Tell me, why don't you kill me, and put a gun against my head

[gluteus]

Who | Maximus, R, Eponine, Sigma and maybe Wyatt at the very end (Closed!)
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!


Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.

The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.

He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.

He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.

"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.

Comments

[gluteus]

Maximus had no idea what a train was, but he didn't ask, settling back into a lazy comfort with Wyatt's arm draped over his knee.

"Of course I would help," He said carefully. "What is your plan?"

[the_marshal]

His mouth twitched, amused. And pleased, touched, that Max trusted him so readily. As easily as Wyatt did him.

Clearing his throat, he held up his knife, wagged it gently, and then brought the tip down to the open sand beside them, sketching with the blade.

"Here's the herd," he drew circles in the sand, "here's the braves." A line of small X's behind the group of the circles. "The braves come in behind the herd and wait while on the other side, two warriors approach from the front."

Two more x's, on the side of the group. "Those two dress like the buffalo, and they come in slow, careful so as not to scare the herd. They're the jumpers, an' when they're in place, the braves move in, ridin' hard an' making all kinds'a noise, pushin' the herd toward the jumpers."

He dragged lines in the dirt, from the line of X's to the herd of circles.

"The jumpers, they run ahead of the herd, an' the buffalo follow 'em. They lead the herd to the cliff."

A squiggle for the cliff and more lines, pushing toward it.

"Now, when they get there, they jump over, but catch onto a rope they've tied there, saving themselves. The buffalo, they go straight over."

[gluteus]

He listened carefully, eyes trained on the point of Wyatt's knife as he sketched in the sand. It was better, having something to focus on other than his wounds, but as Wyatt elaborated...

Maximus's lips thinned slightly.

He kept himself back from saying exactly what he thought of the plan, though he gave Wyatt's a sharp look.

"I thought you wanted one buffalo. Wouldn't this plan net us dozens?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt exhaled, nodding with his sigh.

"It's likely to be more than we need, but at this point..." He trailed off, looking back up at Max. "It's us or them."

He gestured lightly with the hand hanging over Max's knee to the machete at Max's side. "An' unless we plan on trying to take one down with that...."

[gluteus]

Maximus made a low sound, disapproving.

"No. That would get us trampled." he paused, sighed. "We'll go with your plan, though I don't think it lowers the chance of trampling very significantly."

[the_marshal]

He patted Max's knee, leaning back with a wry smile.

"Don't look so worried, Max. I ain't askin' you to put yer ass on the line."

Even without the injury, Wyatt wouldn't ask, preferring to have Max as far away from possible death as he could manage.

"I'll jump, R'll push, an' you'll be my signal man."

[gluteus]

His knee leaned slightly into the pat as he gave Wyatt a very flat look, which was quickly turning into a hard one.

"If you think I'm going to sit out of the way while I allow you to endanger yourself--"

[the_marshal]

He arched a brow, and tipped his head.

"It was my idea, Max. My risk to take."

His hand slipped from Max's knee and onto his thigh, pulling on the thick knot where his bandage was tied.

"An' I'm not the one with the hole in my leg."

[gluteus]

"You asked for my help," Maximus pointed out, shaking his leg to pull the knot free from Wyatt's fingers.

"Not stand apart, unable to help since I can't run fast enough with this hole in my leg."

[the_marshal]

His fingers hung in the air a moment, still, when Max pulled away, then reached for what little remained of the supplies, tossing them back into the box.

"Pretend yer a general again, an' this is just another strategic, battlefield choice. Yer wounded, I'm not. I might die," the lid clicked closed, "but that's comin' one way or another. ...At least this way it'll be quick."

Better at least, than if some of the others got a hold of him.

(If R got a hold of him.)

[gluteus]

Maximus pierced his lips but didn't argue. (Part of him already sorry that he had, in the first place, watching Wyatt's hands as they cleaned up what was left of the supplies.)

"... Fine. So what do we do to keep you from dying?" He said instead.

[the_marshal]

"We'll have to find someplace suitable, get a rope tied off... Other than that...?"

He trailed off, exhaling a long breath, tossing the box back toward the dwindling pile of supplies with a soft underhanded lob.

He looked back at Max, eyebrows quirked in bemusement. "Pray?"

[gluteus]

Maximus was not very amused. Or at least he was trying not to be, but it was hard to stay stony in the face of Wyatt's humour. Instead, he shook his head and looked up into the heavens.

"Here's hoping they like you."

[the_marshal]

He glanced up as well, following Max's eyes. His mouth worked, pursing thoughtfully, one corner of his lips twitching.

"Well," he said, shifting and turning to slide back against the rock at Max's side. "They've been pretty good to me so far. They've done a fair job with the company-" he glanced sidelong, eyeing Max in profile, gentle curling of his mouth turning into a full smirk, "-attempts on my life not withstanding."

[gluteus]

Maximus couldn't help himself and chuckled.

"And here I thought that's what made the company so good." He turned his head to glance over, hand falling to his thigh to rub at the bandage, little shocks of pain under his skin as he kept accidentally hitting the wound. "Fairly certain the Gods enjoy a little conflict..."

[the_marshal]

He laughed, a rough, low bark, shaking his head.

"It's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye." He slanted him a look, teeth flashing in a handsome smile. "Or gets a scorpion in their bed roll."

[gluteus]

Maximus just smiled, warm despite the ache through his limbs, a breathy chuckle on his tongue.

"Get some rest, Wyatt," He rumbled eventually. "The Leg'll keep me up a few hours yet."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's smile softened, but lost no amount of warmth as he clapped Max's knee again.

"Wake me, if ya need me."

He patted Max lightly - as much perhaps for himself, a reminder before he gave in to sleep that Death hadn't won yet - and climbed to his feet, moving to the back of the little cave, where the roll was stretched out.

Setting his hat aside, he laid down, drifting off to the soft pop of the fire, the gentle ripple of his coat the crevice open, and the faint, increasingly familiar, scent of earth in his nose.

(The subtle scent of Max, left in his wake, every time he used the bag.)

[gluteus]

"I will," Maximus promised him as he leaned back, letting out a breath. He waited silently until he could hear the subtle change in Wyatt's breath as he fell asleep. He turned his head, glancing over at the outline of Wyatt's shoulder, the hat at his side.

Eventually he turned his head to glance outside instead, his fingers aimlessly picking at the bandage, his machete at his side.