tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. tell me we'll never get used to it
No matter what the answer that came to him from Melita's own lips was, it was already obvious the real answer was a simple no. People who were okay didn't scream at the sea, didn't hurl things at it like somehow it would affect the waves at all. Her head shook at the offer of his palm, and for a single moment Nate considered ignoring the refusal, reaching out anyways, just a little bit. It was his nature, to try and offer comfort in what felt like the most complete way. "Just bad dreams." He repeated instead, arm finally falling limp as he did, as he looked her over, brow raising at the trembling, at the way every bit of her clenched to try to stop it. "Alright then."
Clearly, he wasn't convinced by the cover up, but he was willing enough to move along with the subject change, for a moment. Hopefully long enough for Melita to calm down enough for them to circle back around, to bad dreams and trying to punish the ocean for something that couldn't be it's fault. "Well," Nate began in a rumble, casually shifting closer to her, "I can't actually sleep anymore, and I can only lay in a bed so long, no matter how much incentive there is." He didn't say what kind of incentive, letting her imagination run with it a little bit, the insinuation enough to pull a light laugh from between his lips. "I can't drink myself into a stupor, I can't take anything, so I walk. Keep everything moving, keep it distracted." A short shrug with that, a moment of consideration for his last thought, the fact that sometimes, he finds something more distracting than a walk, but he doesn't want the girl to take that personally. Whatever she's working through is more than fodder to keep his mind busy.
In the end though, he is impatient, and of the belief of an eye for an eye, trouble for a trouble, so Nate turns to Melita, trying to give off the air of a confident, someone she can trust when he tactlessly brings up her problems again. 'Y'know, I can't say I ever had a dream so bad I had to throw rocks into the ocean." A question, dressed up as anything but.
Clearly, he wasn't convinced by the cover up, but he was willing enough to move along with the subject change, for a moment. Hopefully long enough for Melita to calm down enough for them to circle back around, to bad dreams and trying to punish the ocean for something that couldn't be it's fault. "Well," Nate began in a rumble, casually shifting closer to her, "I can't actually sleep anymore, and I can only lay in a bed so long, no matter how much incentive there is." He didn't say what kind of incentive, letting her imagination run with it a little bit, the insinuation enough to pull a light laugh from between his lips. "I can't drink myself into a stupor, I can't take anything, so I walk. Keep everything moving, keep it distracted." A short shrug with that, a moment of consideration for his last thought, the fact that sometimes, he finds something more distracting than a walk, but he doesn't want the girl to take that personally. Whatever she's working through is more than fodder to keep his mind busy.
In the end though, he is impatient, and of the belief of an eye for an eye, trouble for a trouble, so Nate turns to Melita, trying to give off the air of a confident, someone she can trust when he tactlessly brings up her problems again. 'Y'know, I can't say I ever had a dream so bad I had to throw rocks into the ocean." A question, dressed up as anything but.
NATE
