Natasha can sense some annoyance in him because of how she answers and there's something else; something simmering under the surface. Something defensive, but not on any personal level. Years of being trained to read people helps her come to that. And since she has a pretty good idea of who this has to do with (given the vague description which isn't so vague), Natasha gets to her feet and dusts the sand off her hands.
He walks a good deal away, far enough that if he does raise his voice, regular people still won't quite catch what he says. It's private as they are going to get around here at the moment, and when he stops, he turns to her and asks as levelly as he can, "When was the last time you checked in on your assignment?"
Ah, yes. Exactly who she was expecting this to be about. There was a feeling after she'd hung up with Cain that his ego would spill the beans about how he "dealt" with another one of his temp wardens for being too "nosy".
Natasha loves to play the long game, but his question -- or rather the wording his chooses to use -- forces her to narrow a look his way. "Assignments," she echoes flatly. It's apparent the usage of such a word hits a nerve. A deep one.
Uncrossing her arms, she slides her device out of her pocket and double-taps to wake it up. The screen that it's on is her inmate tracker.
"About ten minutes ago," she answers, respectfully. "Why does a person who refers to temporary inmates as an 'assignment' seem to care about what I do with mine? Who is Cain to you?"
A past "assignment" of his? A friend from his home world? A lover from this one? She wants to hear it from his mouth.
"I just assumed that was a term you might prefer," he returns, "seeing as you obviously didn't seem to care about his well being aside from checking his physical location, and I suppose also seeing that he wasn't listed as dead."
He shifts his weight onto one foot, hip canting to one side as he regards her, arms crossing, "he doesn't have to be anything to me to think that telling him that you wouldn't be ashamed to leave him dead until he was reassigned is inappropriate at the very least, gross negligence at best for an Inmate your only impression of is 'mouthy and difficult'."
"That's not how that conversation went," Natasha's lips twitch. "But since you're coming at me with all sorts of assumptions, and picking out parts of it that had a very clear lead-up to why I said what I said, you'll excuse me for assuming you're here because you feel obligated to defend him. Since he's your co-pilot and all."
Yes, Abel, she scours the network for any and all relevant information she can find.
She looks at his posture; the power he thinks he holds while he stands here making his own accusations against her. For all the confrontation she's been through in her life, this? This wasn't intimidating, so much as she thought it cute.
Natasha doesn't react, merely shrugs.
"How do you deal with the temporary pairings you've had where the inmate wants nothing from you?"
"Even if it was a joke, I still think it's incredibly inappropriate." He knows what he's said on the network, isn't surprised that she'd seen it, but all they can do is make assumptions. They don't know each other. "If it was just my personal obligations bringing me here, I probably wouldn't have given you the benefit of the doubt. We just went through a crisis, did you tell anyone where he was if you weren't going to find him yourself? Or do think it's okay, keeping that information to yourself because he is a bit of an ass?"
And while he doesn't care so much about intimidation, there is a seriousness to him, enough that it's obvious he doesn't find any of this funny, but considerate enough to keep private.
"I only had one temp before I was assigned to Fitz. We had a decent day, and the next day we had a problem, he decided I needed to be warned about how dangerous he was. I still checked in on him regardless of how little he wanted to do with me."
"I think you missed the part where he basically started the conversation saying he didn't want anything from the Admiral or for me and to stay out of his way. I'm not sure what authority camp you went to but I'm not here to force anyone to do anything they don't want to. As a warden, that's not why I'm here."
She looks off for a moment then brings her focus back to Abel.
"Go ahead and tell me my approach to being a warden is flawed and I will point out that your first problem is taking the title of warden too literally."
Natasha glances back to the beach.
"And no, I wasn't planning on leaving him dead if he did die. Don't presume to know what kind of a human being I am without meeting me first."
A pause, and she steps to the side, preparing to leave.
"Keeping an eye on someone doesn't have to be hands on. His safety is your responsibility, and as Cain's friend and navigator, I want to trust that you'll do that to the best of your ability if I can't. Your the one that knows where he is if he can't communicate." He's being civil, though the urge to roll his eyes at her, which he's sure is mutual, is making it difficult.
He considers anything else he could say, and let's most of it slide.
"If it was your friend, I'm sure you'd want better for him too. But what ever, let me know if you need any assistance, I'm... I might not like your approach, but we're all crew, that should mean something." And he will give her a nod, not caring really where she went.
Abel's need to have the last word is proof that he doesn't care about reasons for anything, only that his assumptions are what he believes in. She stands firm on how she has dealt with the situation and the safe distance she's kept with Cain, as per his wishes.
But Abel doesn't listen or he would have heard her state at the beginning of their conversation that she has been keeping on eye on Cain. That willful ignorance won't do him well, as far as Natasha is concerned. He strikes her as someone to keep an eye on, because he only hears and sees what he wants to see.
Still, she heads her own way, giving him the last word because she's tired of talking in circles.
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"Sure, lead the way."
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Natasha loves to play the long game, but his question -- or rather the wording his chooses to use -- forces her to narrow a look his way. "Assignments," she echoes flatly. It's apparent the usage of such a word hits a nerve. A deep one.
Uncrossing her arms, she slides her device out of her pocket and double-taps to wake it up. The screen that it's on is her inmate tracker.
"About ten minutes ago," she answers, respectfully. "Why does a person who refers to temporary inmates as an 'assignment' seem to care about what I do with mine? Who is Cain to you?"
A past "assignment" of his? A friend from his home world? A lover from this one? She wants to hear it from his mouth.
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He shifts his weight onto one foot, hip canting to one side as he regards her, arms crossing, "he doesn't have to be anything to me to think that telling him that you wouldn't be ashamed to leave him dead until he was reassigned is inappropriate at the very least, gross negligence at best for an Inmate your only impression of is 'mouthy and difficult'."
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Yes, Abel, she scours the network for any and all relevant information she can find.
She looks at his posture; the power he thinks he holds while he stands here making his own accusations against her. For all the confrontation she's been through in her life, this? This wasn't intimidating, so much as she thought it cute.
Natasha doesn't react, merely shrugs.
"How do you deal with the temporary pairings you've had where the inmate wants nothing from you?"
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And while he doesn't care so much about intimidation, there is a seriousness to him, enough that it's obvious he doesn't find any of this funny, but considerate enough to keep private.
"I only had one temp before I was assigned to Fitz. We had a decent day, and the next day we had a problem, he decided I needed to be warned about how dangerous he was. I still checked in on him regardless of how little he wanted to do with me."
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"I think you missed the part where he basically started the conversation saying he didn't want anything from the Admiral or for me and to stay out of his way. I'm not sure what authority camp you went to but I'm not here to force anyone to do anything they don't want to. As a warden, that's not why I'm here."
She looks off for a moment then brings her focus back to Abel.
"Go ahead and tell me my approach to being a warden is flawed and I will point out that your first problem is taking the title of warden too literally."
Natasha glances back to the beach.
"And no, I wasn't planning on leaving him dead if he did die. Don't presume to know what kind of a human being I am without meeting me first."
A pause, and she steps to the side, preparing to leave.
"I think we're done here, yeah?"
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He considers anything else he could say, and let's most of it slide.
"If it was your friend, I'm sure you'd want better for him too. But what ever, let me know if you need any assistance, I'm... I might not like your approach, but we're all crew, that should mean something." And he will give her a nod, not caring really where she went.
"Thank you for your time."
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But Abel doesn't listen or he would have heard her state at the beginning of their conversation that she has been keeping on eye on Cain. That willful ignorance won't do him well, as far as Natasha is concerned. He strikes her as someone to keep an eye on, because he only hears and sees what he wants to see.
Still, she heads her own way, giving him the last word because she's tired of talking in circles.