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Getting to the fishing vessel isn’t the most pleasant journey Stubbs has ever been on- each wave kicks up the small boat and makes his shoulder hurt like a bitch. Bernard had taken control of steering the small motor without question, staring at Stubbs steadily when he tried to grab it himself. A particularly hard bump as they started to move with a little more speed had him reaching up to steady his arm with a wince, and Bernard’s patient look felt a little more smug than it should’ve, the asshole.
So he’d relented, and had sat back on the little bench and let himself take a breather; watch behind them as the shoreline got farther away.
Now it strikes him suddenly as he’s watching that he’s never been out of the park before this. Never had a reason to even want to, though he’s pretty sure that’s just his programming- written that way along with every other facet of his personality and looks. “Do not ever wonder why you’re stuck here like a mouse in a fucking maze.” Picked out like choosing blue over red for a new car. Black leather over tan upholstery.
Stubbs wonders what else there is to customize in his code. Well, ”wonders” is the wrong fucking word for it. He knows what can be customized in the code; he’s seen all of the iterations of the park hosts throughout the years; watched the techs poke and prod and adjust here and rewire there. Watched Bernard sit in front of them and discuss their pasts with them over and over and over until he was satisfied with their emotional response.
Stubbs can’t remember who it was that did his own customization and testing. He’s sure it must have been Ford given that his host status was probably considered confidential.
Or maybe it had been Bernard after all, with Ford wiping him after. He seemed a little too comfortable telling Stubbs to “freeze all motor functions,” and popping a new fucking mission statement into his head. Makes it all the more likely that he’d done it at least once before.
The immediate image of sitting in one of those glass rooms, completely naked with a bespectacled and buttoned up Bernard walking around him and assessing him causes him to squirm suddenly, ridiculously, in his seat. He stares harder at the receding view of the land than is needed when he senses a curious look being sent his way.
Enough introspection, he decides. This is why he figured the best course of action would be just to aim a bit better and end this crazy fucking situation once and for all. For him, at least.
*
That option looks more attractive each second, as he ends up staggering a bit getting into the other boat. He rests too much of his weight on his bad arm for balance while stepping over the side of the dinghy and it gives out on him. He sees a flash of a painful fall and a mouthful of seawater in his future until a firm grip grabs the back of his jacket and holds on as he regains his balance.
The hand is a steadying presence at the small of his back until both of his feet are firmly on the deck of the larger boat, but it slides off as Bernard jumps over and joins him.
A thin man approaches from the covered area, and Stubbs knows that must be the captain that got Bernard out here in the first place, but he’s still stepping up between them before the man can get too close; drawing himself up to his full height and resting a warning hand over his pistol. The man pulls up short with wide, scared eyes, and it’s a tense few seconds of stillness until Bernard steps around him and lightly places his hand atop Stubbs’ over the gun,
“It’s alright, Stubbs, he’s not a threat,” and goddamn his new fucking programing, because he can feel the tension in his body immediately cease, and he knows Bernard can feel it too. He opts for parade rest as he gives the doctor an unimpressed look to cover his slight embarrassment,
“Gee, sorry about that, don’t know what came over me. No idea why I got so protective,”
Bernard just smirks at him and pats his hand in a way that’s more than a little mocking before moving on to speak with the captain. Another crewmember is tying the small boat to the larger one, and they’re ready to take off.
As he drops down roughly onto the bench under the canopy, Stubbs wonders if “Protect Bernard Lowe at all costs” means he can’t kick his ass. He hopes not.