[Hank sounds distracted - but what he's distracted by is Cayde himself. He bites at the inside of his cheek, watching him. As the- the other place, the blizzard, gets further and further away the easier is to remember how out of it Cayde'd been, how worried Hank'd been about him, easier to remember Cayde curling up and the way he sounded when he'd said, 'cept everyone's got to die and easier to think, now that he's got time, about how worrying that is, too, on more than one level.
But asking anything about it, asking 'Are you okay,' maybe, or 'So, do you normally have the urge to murder everyone you see,' or 'What the fuck happened to you, jesus' - not that he'd actually ask that last one, but a part of him wants to, even when he knows for a certified fact he doesn't really want to hear the detailed answer - well, asking after Cayde in any way just feels weird now, hypocritical, and Hank's spent the little walk here mostly just starting to feel like an asshole.]
So, uh-
[Hank leans in, wanting to bump Cayde's shoulder with a repentant, shameful little feeling, with hope, with concern carefully nudging its way through all the other emotions as Hank takes another look at Cayde's face.]
Is this where you live? It's got some, uh- [He glances at the probably-not-an-actual-ghost over there doing those squats.] -interesting characters in it, huh.
no subject
[Hank sounds distracted - but what he's distracted by is Cayde himself. He bites at the inside of his cheek, watching him. As the- the other place, the blizzard, gets further and further away the easier is to remember how out of it Cayde'd been, how worried Hank'd been about him, easier to remember Cayde curling up and the way he sounded when he'd said, 'cept everyone's got to die and easier to think, now that he's got time, about how worrying that is, too, on more than one level.
But asking anything about it, asking 'Are you okay,' maybe, or 'So, do you normally have the urge to murder everyone you see,' or 'What the fuck happened to you, jesus' - not that he'd actually ask that last one, but a part of him wants to, even when he knows for a certified fact he doesn't really want to hear the detailed answer - well, asking after Cayde in any way just feels weird now, hypocritical, and Hank's spent the little walk here mostly just starting to feel like an asshole.]
So, uh-
[Hank leans in, wanting to bump Cayde's shoulder with a repentant, shameful little feeling, with hope, with concern carefully nudging its way through all the other emotions as Hank takes another look at Cayde's face.]
Is this where you live? It's got some, uh- [He glances at the probably-not-an-actual-ghost over there doing those squats.] -interesting characters in it, huh.