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"Uh. I ain’t sure about this, Miss Pauling. With the new team. I dunno what I’m supposed to do about it."
She’d been waiting for this. She’d already dealt with the other mercs, expressing their concerns. They ran the gamut—they were being replaced, they weren’t going to be able to fight the same way they always had. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t any place for women. It was unamerican. It wasn’t chivalrous. She’d told them all off. This was the way things were going, and they could kick and scream the whole way, or they could shut up and she’d try to make sure they weren’t too badly outclassed during the inevitably difficult adjustment period.
Scout had his hat in his hands, and he looked anxious. He was cute when he bit his lip and she tried not to look too cold when she peered at him down her nose, over the top of her glasses. “No? And why not?” She braced herself, sharpened her tongue behind her teeth for the inevitably stupid answer about not being able to concentrate with nine gorgeous ladies on the field, how Miss Pauling was bad enough on her own, all that irritating bullshit. She backtracked, mentally. He wasn’t cute. He was dumb.
"Uh. Well. Uh, an’ don’t tell the team? Please? I ain’t proud about this." He’d twisted his cap into a ball and she was still reminding herself that he was dumb.
Frosty, now. “Go on.”
He looked over his shoulder, like he was worried someone was gonna hear. And when he spoke it was low, and quick and urgent. “Their, um. Uh, their Scout. Um. She’s faster’n me.” He grimaced. “Spy got copies of their resumes an’ he handed ‘em around an’ she’s got some times for some stuff, an I ran a couple of ‘em…Engie timed it all for me, an’ he did the math. I made him double check, an’ he just about hit me. But. Yeah, uh, her times’re faster. Like, a lot faster. I ain’t sure she’s got me beat for distance, so there’s that, at least, but she is a hell of a lot faster, Miss Pauling. I dunno what to do about that.”
She blinked at him, arched an eyebrow. He’d babbled a little bit. He really was nervous and he continued, possibly more anxious than before.
"I, um, I think she trains at it? I think she don’t just do it for work, I think she really is serious, an’, um. I ain’t. I just always did it an’ I never had t’worry ‘cuz I was always faster’n everybody else without tryin’. I don’t wanna get fired, Miss Pauling. S’just, I never had…like, I was kinda shit in school an’ I never did track or anythin’, ‘cuz that all was dumb an’ anyway no one took me seriously when I said I could outrun those fucks. Bastards, I mean. Sorry."
"What’s your point?" She paused, and then a bit less severely. "I told Tavish, no one’s getting fired. It’s just another team, Scout, No one’s being replaced.”
"Oh! Okay. Okay, well, that’s good. I’m the best RED’s got, that’s for sure, Miss Pauling. But, uh. Is there any way I could…um, is there like, a trainer or something, for running? I oughta try and get faster, if I got real competition now. I dunno how to work at it, I ain’t sure where to start."
He was lucky he was so cute. And that he was the right kind of dumb, sometimes. “Well. I’m not sure what her regimen is like, but I could introduce to their new Scout.” She smiled. “I’m sure she could give you some tips. I’ve met her, I think you’d like her.”
"…really? She nice? Probably she did, like, racing in school an’ shit. Stuff. I don’t wanna, if she’s gonna be mean about it, Miss Pauling."
"She’s nice. I like her." She smiled. Maybe he wasn’t that dumb. "Am I going to need to worry about new competition? All sorts of other ladies on the field, you’re just not going to have any time for me anymore.”
He grinned, then paused. Narrowed his eyes, disapprovingly. “Hey. Miss Pauling. That is just real sexist, Miss Pauling. Shame on you.”
She couldn’t tell if he was joking. She apologized, anyway, to be on the safe side.