did you miss me enough to drink, or did you drink enough to miss me?
A sharp, angry shrug is the only answer the baker receives, at first. ”Sam felt inadequate before me, who else invites a fucking stranger to live with them? And it hasn’t stopped him from moving on, has it?” Nate only barely manages to keep from his eyes, ”It has nothing to do with balls. I didn’t make any mistakes I need to carry, either. Making myself happy is a mistake now?” Why should he deny himself just to spare someone else? He’d lived that life before, and he’d promised himself it would be different here.
”Oh, I suppose you must question your goddess constantly, huh?” A hand rises to curl around Pemota, protecting her from the onslaught of slander that spewed from the woman. ”She’s perfectly happy here, with me.” For once, Pemota is eager for his touch, the both of them united against one thing, defending the Voice however loosely. It helps to feed a little more into his fire, let’s him settle more comfortably away from his doubts and guilt.
”You sit there and you expect me to be ashamed of what I’ve done, because you don’t approve of it.” Nate rises up to his full height, shoulders squared in the face of her fire, indignation and spite holding him up like a steel rod. ”I’m not the only person to have ever hurt someone else, and I won’t be the last. I know that.” Even in the face of fire, he doesn’t back down, though he is prepared to run, to move if she does. He is dragging this down into the more, throwing everything he has, because this is not something he’s going to get the chance to do again.
Perhaps it’s the partial shift, or perhaps it’s just everything else finally clicking together, a dozen scattered descriptions finally tying together into a spotty recognition, but something cruel pops into Nate’s head, into his throat. ”Weren’t you one of the ones on that mission in Halo? The one with the dragon?” A low snap of laughter leaves him, his head shaking. ”Maybe I hurt some people’s feelings, but I never got anyone killed.”
”Oh, I suppose you must question your goddess constantly, huh?” A hand rises to curl around Pemota, protecting her from the onslaught of slander that spewed from the woman. ”She’s perfectly happy here, with me.” For once, Pemota is eager for his touch, the both of them united against one thing, defending the Voice however loosely. It helps to feed a little more into his fire, let’s him settle more comfortably away from his doubts and guilt.
”You sit there and you expect me to be ashamed of what I’ve done, because you don’t approve of it.” Nate rises up to his full height, shoulders squared in the face of her fire, indignation and spite holding him up like a steel rod. ”I’m not the only person to have ever hurt someone else, and I won’t be the last. I know that.” Even in the face of fire, he doesn’t back down, though he is prepared to run, to move if she does. He is dragging this down into the more, throwing everything he has, because this is not something he’s going to get the chance to do again.
Perhaps it’s the partial shift, or perhaps it’s just everything else finally clicking together, a dozen scattered descriptions finally tying together into a spotty recognition, but something cruel pops into Nate’s head, into his throat. ”Weren’t you one of the ones on that mission in Halo? The one with the dragon?” A low snap of laughter leaves him, his head shaking. ”Maybe I hurt some people’s feelings, but I never got anyone killed.”
NATE
