[ there. there it is. the fucking string, buried among all the niceties and easy promises. his trailer is getting moved closer to hawkins fuller. it's phrased in such a way that it sounds like a favor, like safety, like they're doing everything in their power to put embry at ease and make sure this never, ever happens again, but he knows better. he knows he's not being asked. to be forced to stay within the sights of the most powerful man on the lot is nothing but a power move, and embry is fucking caught. ]

Sure. [ he slips an easy shrug, because he's savvy enough to know this isn't a battle he can win — but there are still ways to skew this to his advantage. ] I'd feel better being close to this side of things. To you. Everyone knows you run the show.

[ it's an easy enough compliment because it's not too much. it's just factual. he makes a show of letting the tension drain from his shoulders, perching on the edge of hawk's desk, since if it's apparently good enough for hawk's expensive leather shoes, it's good enough for his ass. ]

Zebediah? [ his brow ticks up, his mouth quirking briefly into the shape of a boyish grin — cut short with the way he makes a show of wincing a little at the way it pulls at his bruise. ] I don't think I need a medic. This isn't any worse than your high school bully getting over on you in gym class. But — you think you can do me a favor and get me back in my trailer before they start moving everything around? I left my phone in there and I think the screen's busted. There's also a present for my mother in there I've been meaning to mail out, since you're giving me the day. Some jewelry and personal things.

[ like his stash of ketamine. ]