He walks to the lip of the canyon and peers down. Imagines the fall—the momentary weightlessness, the pain. His body dashed on the rock floor. He asks himself if it would be worth it, scrapes the bottom of his intentions and comes up with: it has to be.
Wade steps onto the bridge, arms out for balance. He doesn't correct them—he doesn't have the breath to spare, and his mouth's gone dry besides. His tread is slow but even, his breathing gradually slipping into time with it.
He stops—a mistake, maybe, his balance already more precarious. Wipes sweat from his forehead. “I'd planned on taking it slow,” he says dryly, “but—” A gesture their way, carefully contained—as though motioning them through a door. Clearly they have other ideas.
He wobbles to a start again, gradually rediscovering his footing. “Tell me”—a huff, several more steps—“what's the worst thing you've done? In your—in your estimation.”
“I don't think”—he carries on picking his way over the bridge, Double Trouble a green blur in the corner of his eye—“that has to be the case. Unless you want it to.”
He holds up again, squinting to the end of the bridge. “Are we gonna wind up in the same spot?”
"Were you planning on being somewhere else? And I think it's the Admiral's
decision, who ends up with the task of shaping me into a productive member
of society."
“Sure,” he allows—letting that phrasing glide on by for the moment. “Doesn't mean he gets a say in our particular dynamic.”
They're still gonna know each other once the month's out, and it is, in some ways, a small boat.
Wade sets his hands on his hips. An attempt to ease his breathing. “You don't want to answer the question, that's fine. Go ahead and assume I asked why not.”
“I already hauled myself up this rock on your behalf.” Wade doesn't sound especially put out. Or put off. He does look to the end of the bridge, gauging how much more there is to go.
“But all right. Provided there is water in our collective future, because speech is about to elude me entirely.”
"Down this way, darling," Trouble says lightly, walking towards a sign in a
language that Wade would have no way to understand and Trouble could only
really guess at.
Still, the illustrations of bottles and plates speak for themselves.
He trails after, mindful of the tail and taking note of the sign. Touching his fingertips to the wall until the swaying sensation of the bridge dissipates. He doesn't talk—doesn't see much need for it, and he wasn't lying about his tongue all but shriveling up.
Double Trouble steps into the kind of saloon where the arrival of a
stranger would probably cause all conversation to dry up and the pianist to
stop dead mid-chord, if only there was a piano in here.
There isn't. But there's water, and they very kindly pour two large mugs.
His first swallow's deep—his eyes close, briefly, and he wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. “Thank you.” Wade finds a wall to lean against, the rock cool at his back. Runs a hand through his hair, rendering it neither more nor less presentable, just messy in several new directions.
“I don't know if you're looking for the unabridged version, here, but the short of it is—I betrayed the trust of somebody dear to me,” he says, slow and measured. His eyes are on Double Trouble—fixed there. “I sold her out. Right after that I came here.”
He looks suddenly tired, as though the intervening time—days and nights on the barge, the long walk to his car after watching Angela gulp down the pills, the moments of unearned relief—has just crashed over him.
He keeps on thinking of Angela, Angela who'd been so much closer to Crawford—in and out of his house, cozy evenings with the family. And then him. He doesn't have to imagine the feeling, is the hell of it. He's lived with it most of his life.
“Well,” he says. His voice is rough, feels rough in his throat too. “That's me. You're up.”
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Date: 2020-03-09 08:15 pm (UTC)Wade steps onto the bridge, arms out for balance. He doesn't correct them—he doesn't have the breath to spare, and his mouth's gone dry besides. His tread is slow but even, his breathing gradually slipping into time with it.
His gaze doesn't dip into the canyon again.
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Date: 2020-03-09 08:49 pm (UTC)Trouble, by contrast, is positively waltzing across the bridge.
"So what did you ask me out to discuss, darling?"
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Date: 2020-03-15 08:56 pm (UTC)He wobbles to a start again, gradually rediscovering his footing. “Tell me”—a huff, several more steps—“what's the worst thing you've done? In your—in your estimation.”
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Date: 2020-03-15 09:02 pm (UTC)Trouble skips off the bridge and onto the rocky ledge forming a pathway.
"Given the - transitive nature of our relationship, darling, why the curiosity?"
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Date: 2020-03-20 08:10 pm (UTC)He holds up again, squinting to the end of the bridge. “Are we gonna wind up in the same spot?”
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Date: 2020-03-20 09:23 pm (UTC)"Were you planning on being somewhere else? And I think it's the Admiral's decision, who ends up with the task of shaping me into a productive member of society."
no subject
Date: 2020-03-28 02:55 pm (UTC)They're still gonna know each other once the month's out, and it is, in some ways, a small boat.
Wade sets his hands on his hips. An attempt to ease his breathing. “You don't want to answer the question, that's fine. Go ahead and assume I asked why not.”
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Date: 2020-03-28 03:08 pm (UTC)They roll their eyes.
"Maybe you'd care to clarify your question, then, because I do not know which 'same spot' you're referring to."
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Date: 2020-03-28 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-03-28 04:04 pm (UTC)"Oh, you're still hung up on that," they sigh, like they asked hours rather than minutes ago.
"Why don't we make a deal, darling? You want to know the worst thing I've ever done? You first. Set me a good example."
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Date: 2020-04-06 05:21 pm (UTC)“But all right. Provided there is water in our collective future, because speech is about to elude me entirely.”
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Date: 2020-04-06 09:18 pm (UTC)"Down this way, darling," Trouble says lightly, walking towards a sign in a language that Wade would have no way to understand and Trouble could only really guess at.
Still, the illustrations of bottles and plates speak for themselves.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-07 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-07 11:08 pm (UTC)Double Trouble steps into the kind of saloon where the arrival of a stranger would probably cause all conversation to dry up and the pianist to stop dead mid-chord, if only there was a piano in here.
There isn't. But there's water, and they very kindly pour two large mugs.
"Here, darling."
Mammals. So inefficient.
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Date: 2020-04-12 06:10 pm (UTC)“I don't know if you're looking for the unabridged version, here, but the short of it is—I betrayed the trust of somebody dear to me,” he says, slow and measured. His eyes are on Double Trouble—fixed there. “I sold her out. Right after that I came here.”
no subject
Date: 2020-04-12 06:16 pm (UTC)"Oh."
Trouble blinks slowly, otherwise unmoving. And unmoved.
"Is that all?"
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Date: 2020-04-12 06:46 pm (UTC)“Nobody ever did that to you?”
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Date: 2020-04-12 06:48 pm (UTC)They take a long slow sip from their water.
"Of course not, darling."
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Date: 2020-04-12 06:51 pm (UTC)He can guess.
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Date: 2020-04-12 06:53 pm (UTC)"I choose reliable friends," they tell him, crisply. "That's why."
Hahaha. Friends.
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Date: 2020-04-12 07:21 pm (UTC)“Well,” he says. His voice is rough, feels rough in his throat too. “That's me. You're up.”
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Date: 2020-04-12 07:29 pm (UTC)"If you must. I killed someone."
The shrug is verbal rather than physical.
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Date: 2020-04-12 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-04-12 07:41 pm (UTC)This shrug is physical, shoulders lifted, palms up.
"I don't know. I needed to get out of an enemy base, and they happened to be in my way."
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Date: 2020-04-12 09:02 pm (UTC)“What made it the worst?”
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