[The brief moment is palpable. Like a mire settling on top their discussion-- the strange lack that comes from having only the two of them here, and the gaping void he can't bring himself to think about that there must be bsck in Iwatodai. It's the sort of thought that, if he acknowledges it, will make his chest tighten and ache, rising up all the 'what if-'s that he'd already denied time and time again. The sort of itching discomfort that makes him wish he could just leave-- run until he can't breathe until he can't be found until he doesn't have to deal with the absolute mess he's created and continues to create--
But they're both extremely practiced at schooling their expressions and keeping things to themselves. So the silence for a moment just sits between them, unremarked upon. And perhaps that respect for one another's avoidance is part of the problem.
He finally pulls his hands out to shake them dry, rubbing fingertips on his pants. There's too much there and none of it can be fixed. So why dredge it all up?]
Yeah, I saw some lines out back. Probably for whoever in the area to share.
[Just normal conversations, just motions getting through the day. It's not a problem until someone makes it one.]
no subject
But they're both extremely practiced at schooling their expressions and keeping things to themselves. So the silence for a moment just sits between them, unremarked upon. And perhaps that respect for one another's avoidance is part of the problem.
He finally pulls his hands out to shake them dry, rubbing fingertips on his pants. There's too much there and none of it can be fixed. So why dredge it all up?]
Yeah, I saw some lines out back. Probably for whoever in the area to share.
[Just normal conversations, just motions getting through the day. It's not a problem until someone makes it one.]
See, you'll be a pro in no time.