wear the moon like a halo

Her huff has him attempting to bite down on the sharpness of his tongue, working his jaw in a slow grind as he continues to put the boards up. “[say]Sorry.[/say]” It’s a quiet offering, though he doesn’t look at her. He’s just tired. The mention of the change in seasons, however, has him nodding, searching for any other bit of conversation to latch onto. “[say]Allergies, I imagine.[/say]” It’s a quiet suggestion, a roll of his shoulder as he hammers yet another board into place. “[say]I get them around Leafchange.[/say]” Something about the air here made it somewhat difficult to manage in the darker, cloudy skies.

But she departs anyway, checking in on the clinic and getting what she needs, and by the time she’s finished, he’s managed to get the next window done. Only a few more to go, he thinks, as well as the sandbags waiting to be filled. But she arrives, setting the basket down as she hesitates and offers her help, and honestly? It would make it go faster, might be a good distraction from the inevitable that he has to come to terms with, the fact that he’s about to be a father and it’s nearly destroyed his marriage.

But they’re working on it, and the more he thinks on it the more he thinks that he doesn’t deserve the offer that Nate’s given out to help try.

So he swallows hard, casting his tired glance back to her before he nods. “[say]You can hold the bag of nails if you want. Keeps me from accidentally fucking up my mouth more than it already is.[/say]” He waves a hand to his ruined cheek as if for emphasis. But he reaches down to grab the bag of nails and hands it to her, before he moves to the next board. “[say]Did you get what you needed?[/say]”