- NATE -
There are things that we put in our bodies
We know what we're doing and we aren't sorry
We know what we're doing and we aren't sorry
The meagre invitation is all Nate needs to flop in the sand, legs stretching out before him, a single hand thrown out behind him to lean against. Now that it’s been invited, he has absolutely no idea what to say, where to start. ”I’m not gonna pretend to know what you’re going through.” Is what he decides on eventually, before falling quiet again, trying to offer some kind of comfort in a different way.
Nate’s hand freezes as the other man jerks away, surprise widening his one eye, lifting his brows in a question that’s answered before it can be voiced. ”And I thought I was good at reading people.” The words are mumbled under his breath, a joke more for him than it is for Remi. His hand stays lifted between them a moment longer, the ascended considering, then dropping his hand on the Lullaby’s shoulder anyway. He’s calm, despite the deep currents of emotion running through him, the buzz of discomfort and rapidly aborted grief and sentiment.
There’s a ripple of something else through Nate as the Firebrands name comes up, some deep stirring of rage, of grief, of pain, but it’s swallowed down expertly, replaced with a cool, distant thrum of irritation. Prickly still, but nothing to drown in. ”I wonder what made him change his mind.” A humourless laugh leaves the doctor, his head shaking, hair that had been somewhat neat falling wild again. ”Wasn’t me and Sunny, that’s for sure.”
Nate’s hand freezes as the other man jerks away, surprise widening his one eye, lifting his brows in a question that’s answered before it can be voiced. ”And I thought I was good at reading people.” The words are mumbled under his breath, a joke more for him than it is for Remi. His hand stays lifted between them a moment longer, the ascended considering, then dropping his hand on the Lullaby’s shoulder anyway. He’s calm, despite the deep currents of emotion running through him, the buzz of discomfort and rapidly aborted grief and sentiment.
There’s a ripple of something else through Nate as the Firebrands name comes up, some deep stirring of rage, of grief, of pain, but it’s swallowed down expertly, replaced with a cool, distant thrum of irritation. Prickly still, but nothing to drown in. ”I wonder what made him change his mind.” A humourless laugh leaves the doctor, his head shaking, hair that had been somewhat neat falling wild again. ”Wasn’t me and Sunny, that’s for sure.”
Honestly, I don't know how to react
You think hurting yourself doesn't hurt anybody else
You think hurting yourself doesn't hurt anybody else
