I will not be great, but I'm grateful to get through
Ever nods again, quietly, the uncertainty sitting heavy in his chest without quite tipping into panic. The possibility of Stormbreak tearing itself apart is something that's too big for his mind to wrap itself around, the edges too illdefined, and so, for someone prone to losing himself in the details, the aviator finds it shockingly easy to let this particular problem go.
When they reach the bench and Mateo announces that he’s all ears, Ever gives him a look, brief but pointed, the ghost of something almost amused flickering across his expression. It’s the kind of phrase that once would have tripped him up immediately, sparked a correction he couldn’t stop himself from making, and even now there’s a flicker of relief at the quick clarification that follows. He settles onto the bench carefully, shoulders drawn in, hands still tucked into his pockets as his fingers worry the familiar piece of wood.
He takes a breath, deep and deliberate, just as he’d practised in his head, lining the words up in the right order before letting them out. "Because Isla is an Ancient," Ever begins, voice even and measured, "sometimes medical things don’t work on her the way they’re supposed to." He pauses, only long enough to make sure Mateo is still with him, then continues, tone still practical, almost clinical. "We didn’t intend for it, but she’s pregnant." Another small breath. "We’re going to have the baby," he adds, the words steady despite the weight of them. "And we’re happy about it." Only then does Ever turn his head to look properly at Mateo, eyebrows lifting just slightly as he waits, attentive and open, for his friend’s reaction.
When they reach the bench and Mateo announces that he’s all ears, Ever gives him a look, brief but pointed, the ghost of something almost amused flickering across his expression. It’s the kind of phrase that once would have tripped him up immediately, sparked a correction he couldn’t stop himself from making, and even now there’s a flicker of relief at the quick clarification that follows. He settles onto the bench carefully, shoulders drawn in, hands still tucked into his pockets as his fingers worry the familiar piece of wood.
He takes a breath, deep and deliberate, just as he’d practised in his head, lining the words up in the right order before letting them out. "Because Isla is an Ancient," Ever begins, voice even and measured, "sometimes medical things don’t work on her the way they’re supposed to." He pauses, only long enough to make sure Mateo is still with him, then continues, tone still practical, almost clinical. "We didn’t intend for it, but she’s pregnant." Another small breath. "We’re going to have the baby," he adds, the words steady despite the weight of them. "And we’re happy about it." Only then does Ever turn his head to look properly at Mateo, eyebrows lifting just slightly as he waits, attentive and open, for his friend’s reaction.
