text | un: MDay

[shadowsran]

[WARDEN FILTER]

[A quick, impulsive post as another new arrival settles in.]

We get guns?

Has anyone had to use the guns?

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[shadowsran]

Her composure holds through the renewed contact, watery eyes aside. Through the apology, even. It's the final point that breaks her, wished you were here and good person drawing a laugh and a sob from her simultaneously. It's all over already; she's passed and has already begun the process of righting it, but it's difficult to not consider how fresh the wound is.

Not having forgotten that there's an observer, she chooses to double down on the laughter. Hastily wiping her eyes, she nods.

"Yeah. Definitely, please, thank you. Sorry if I'm interrupting—" A vague nod of her head, indicating the bench behind him. There's an intimate lack of real worry, a trust that she isn't. "Pool's great."

[rank1]

"Seriously?" Travis calls again when William turns away. "I'm not gonna be offended if you tell me to fuck off if this comes first! Seems kinda emotional."

[omniavincit]

He stops clinging to her, though there's that hindbrain fear she'll vanish—blip out of sight. Fully faces Travis this time, cracks a crooked smile. What remains of the tears isn't so out of place amid all the sweat. “I'll introduce you later,” he says. His voice has leveled out but the tone's all over the place: laughing relief laden with something heavy. He swallows. “Thanks.”

He does sound grateful.

He steers them toward the pool, its clear, unbroken surface. Toes off his shoes. His socks are predictably sweaty, and he hesitates a moment, standing there on the pool deck. “Have you seen the little bots? There's one...” His hand zigzags above the water, describing the path of the aquatic cleaning bot he'd glimpsed crawling along the bottom of the pool one morning. More streamlined than the others, trailing bubbles.

He sits down on the deck without ceremony, peels off a sock and tosses it away. The second he flings in her direction.

[shadowsran]

"A couple, yeah." But limited to hallways and the mess hall; she follows the movement of his hand and focuses briefly on the pool beyond it, thinking of Portland at the end of the world and imagining this particular bot being shaped like a fish, or an eel.

The flung sock jerks her back to reality. It's with a grin she raises one foot at a time, each boot tugged off in one practiced, fluid motion. Socks are bundled and dropped back into their respective shoe. His is plucked up delicately between two fingers, and as she sits beside him she sends it back his way.

The water is grounding, and she contents herself a moment longer just paddling.

"How's everything been, back home?" She won't name Emily unless he does first, but it's what she's most anxious to hear about. A child wouldn't turn him out, she assumes, but—

Well, it'll be better to hear.

"And here, I guess, but it doesn't sound like anyone's been around long."

[omniavincit]

He scoots toward the pool's edge, plunking his feet in. The water's warmer than he'd like, more sedate—nothing like the cold shock of a creek. He leans down, splashes his face before turning to watch her over his shoulder. Still not taking her presence for granted. Still wanting to reach for her.

“She's good.” He hooks the cuff of the sock over his thumb, smiles as he tries to slingshot it and fails miserably. “She's got all my breach notes.” Except San Francisco, thrust at Norton the night Larry disappeared. Keep them safe, he'd told her. Maybe they'd gone into a homework folder, maybe tucked between the pages of a book. Maybe some other hiding spot, unknown even to him.

He sits back, arms braced behind him. Kicking half-heartedly at the water, his face upturned. “She didn't see the divorce coming. How could she?” His voice slips and his head jerks toward Misty. He stares a moment, gaze lost. “I hated that conversation. Telling her...”

That he couldn't love Juliet the right way. The least of his lies, but it had hurt just the same.

[shadowsran]

The focus doesn't escape her notice, but she feels plenty assured it's no cause for alarm. She's staring at him all the same, still processing that he's there. It should be impossible between his disposition and the likelihood of being picked up by a second ship; she should ask what he's here for, she's dimly aware and suddenly ravenously curious, but it can wait.

Unpleasant as the subject veers, it's good to hear him speak. She hopes her expression isn't too awkward a mix of sympathetic and grateful. Raising an arm, she rests a hand briefly on his shoulder. No squeeze, no movement, just the fleeting weight of the appendage to assure him he doesn't need to put the details to words.

"I can't imagine she's anything but strong."