VESPER
Vesper huffs out a dry sound that comes close enough to agreement to save him from having to say it aloud, because if either of them could read the future, half the damage in their lives would’ve been cleaner or else twice as ugly for having been seen coming, but undoubtably they'd both have preferred to know about it one way or another.
At the mention of that conversation aboard The Ark, one brow lifts. He remembers it well enough such that his first instinct is to reach for a metaphorical calendar and start counting how many days Jack had spent sour over Flora, just to see how the numbers compare, but the thought doesn’t get far before Jack’s words take a different shape than the one Vesper had braced for, such that he goes quiet instead, because Jack is right, damn him, or close enough to it that arguing would only make Vesper look like he’s got less sense than pride. His education in telepathy has been easier by every measure that matters, no matter how ugly parts of it have been, and he hasn’t had to build every wall alone in the dark with nothing but hunger and fear to teach him where the locks should go.
Maybe it isn’t as sink or swim for him, then. Maybe if it goes badly with Colt, it won’t tear through the rest of his life the way Jack and Flora had torn through each other’s. But maybe is a miserable little word, in the end, for how much help it is.
Vesper lifts his whiskey and drains what’s left of it, setting the empty glass near the edge for the server to collect whenever the next round arrives. Leaning forward as if he means to lower his voice, he doesn’t speak aloud at all, his pale eyes cutting back to Jack with more left open in them than he usually permits. I just… I dunno how to tell if it’s worth it. His jaw feathers once as he gives his head a small shake, the thought coming through clearer than he’d like and less polished than he’d manage with his mouth. For as much as this shit’s still on my mind, it’s nothin’ compared to what it’d feel like talkin’ to her again and havin’ it go bad. Sure, maybe it wouldn’t, but I’m not sure the odds are good enough to risk havin’ it feel like that all fresh again.
In short, I'm tired grandpa and this shit hurts.
At the mention of that conversation aboard The Ark, one brow lifts. He remembers it well enough such that his first instinct is to reach for a metaphorical calendar and start counting how many days Jack had spent sour over Flora, just to see how the numbers compare, but the thought doesn’t get far before Jack’s words take a different shape than the one Vesper had braced for, such that he goes quiet instead, because Jack is right, damn him, or close enough to it that arguing would only make Vesper look like he’s got less sense than pride. His education in telepathy has been easier by every measure that matters, no matter how ugly parts of it have been, and he hasn’t had to build every wall alone in the dark with nothing but hunger and fear to teach him where the locks should go.
Maybe it isn’t as sink or swim for him, then. Maybe if it goes badly with Colt, it won’t tear through the rest of his life the way Jack and Flora had torn through each other’s. But maybe is a miserable little word, in the end, for how much help it is.
Vesper lifts his whiskey and drains what’s left of it, setting the empty glass near the edge for the server to collect whenever the next round arrives. Leaning forward as if he means to lower his voice, he doesn’t speak aloud at all, his pale eyes cutting back to Jack with more left open in them than he usually permits. I just… I dunno how to tell if it’s worth it. His jaw feathers once as he gives his head a small shake, the thought coming through clearer than he’d like and less polished than he’d manage with his mouth. For as much as this shit’s still on my mind, it’s nothin’ compared to what it’d feel like talkin’ to her again and havin’ it go bad. Sure, maybe it wouldn’t, but I’m not sure the odds are good enough to risk havin’ it feel like that all fresh again.
In short, I'm tired grandpa and this shit hurts.
And it's all my fault that I'm still the one you want
So what are you after? Some kind of disaster?
So what are you after? Some kind of disaster?
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
