Amery is not supposed to be on the dropship.
She isn't one of the hundred delinquents being sent down to a radiation-soaked planet. She's just a Zero-G mechanic making some last-minute adjustments to a project nobody will tell her anything about.
I...
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✧】vi. jasper doesn't have game【✧
[ murphy's law ]
AMERY AND MONTY fall into a comfortable rhythm attempting to keep the wristbands alive long enough to contact the Ark. He seems to anticipate her needs even before she voices them, placing a screwdriver or wristband in her outstretched hand before she can even find the parts she needs herself. Amery does her best to return to the favor, keeping close watch on Monty's ever-moving gaze and nudging the pile of metal scraps in his direction when he seems to need them. Each time, he rewards her with his trademark tight-lipped smile, and a small ball of warmth swirls in Amery's chest.
On the Ark, she'd only had Raven, Kyle, and Sinclair after Keaton's arrest. She kept her circle small and her routine consistent, spending every waking moment working to avoid the toxicity of her rapid-fire thoughts.
On the Ground, she's finally gotten Keaton back, but she also has more friends than she'd ever had in the sky. Cash. Monty. Harper. Zoe. Wells. Jasper. Maybe even Octavia, Amery thinks. It's a nice feeling, having all these people around her, even if it's taking some getting used to. She's known for a long time that family isn't defined by blood, but this newfound companionship only strengthens that belief.
They take breaks for their rations— nuts or berries or meat on skewers. Small, but enough. Amery can't help but realize that there's more food to go around as the kids are picked off. She shudders at the thought that so many have already died.
The kids on the Ground are a diverse crowd of talent, but the mechanically inclined seem to be limited to Amery, Monty, and Keaton. The latter bounces between work in the dropship and active duty on the walls as a Gunner alongside Cash and Kip.
"Hey," Amery says as Monty passes her another wristband. "What are we gonna do when we run out of these things?" Monty sighs, abandoning his screwdriver on the metal floor and leaning back on his palms.
"Get high," he says flatly, and Amery barks out a laugh.
"You have a weed farm down here that I don't know about?" Amery's never actually seen Monty under the influence of anything– at least, as far as she knows– but it wouldn't necessarily surprise her.
Monty grins as he tilts his head in her direction. "You wish."
Amery hums in acknowledgement as she spins a wristband between her fingers. It's dead, just like all the others.
"I don't know," Monty says with a sigh. "We really don't have many left. And we have to give the Ark some reason to believe we're still alive, so it's not like we can sacrifice all of them."
Amery groans, burying her head in her hands and letting her curtain of red hair hide her face. "This is hopeless," she announces, and Monty elbows her playfully, the fabric of his maroon jacket making a soft rustling sound as it brushes against her denim.
