// It's not enough that I'm running on empty
I had to go and run out while I had you in the car with me //
I had to go and run out while I had you in the car with me //
Oh, he should have been the one to speak first. Nate can feel the tension in his jaw grow into an ache, everything Hotaru does irking at him. The delicate little way she seats herself, the hands folded neatly in her lap, the distant way she doesn’t look at either of them. He hates it, wants to snap and scream and accuse with everything he has. Wants to say, do things that he’s knows he’ll regret, because he knows it will relieve the throbbing tension in his chest.
But he listens instead. He’d offered the moment, like a fucking moron, he was going to be a big boy and deal with it. And seethe through every word that leaves Hotaru’s lips, Nate’s own mouth twisted in a poorly masked sneer.
It’s only when she comes to Atlas that Nate’s lets anything other than emotion flow through the bond, a whip rack of Bullshit snapping at Sunjata. He’s felt what Jack had, knows there had been nothing like grief plaguing her that night. Knows this is a show, like they can be manipulated with crocodile tears.
Sunjata speaks before he does, giving Nate the chance to reach into his pocket for another cigarette, then again for a match. He strikes it without looking away from Hotaru, lights his smoke slowly, so they can all bask in his magic. “Seems pretty con-fuckin-venient that you thought he might do something right as he was gonna do it.” Nate shoves his words where they fit between Sunjata’s, an endless echo of rage and confusion mirrored between them. “You’re sayin’ he got around you somehow and set fire to the stairs behind your back?”
Pemota bumps her tail against Sunjata’s jaw, a less than gentle reminder to relax as claws press against the table. This is all new still. “This doesn’t feel like something the big guy would come up with on his own though.” Nate’s next complaint drawls out of him, his head tipping towards Sunjata without severing the burning stare levelled towards the hybrid. “He’s a fucking psycho, sure, but not like that.” He tacks his words bat the end of Sunjata’s, connected but not, the ascended not caring if it makes it harder on Hotaru to answer.
“And it seems like you’ve done fine without us.” A hand shoots out to gesture at her, Nate huffing a sound through his nose and sneering. “Remi’s excited about it. And I can’t imagine how Ronin must feel.” Sarcasm drips off his words, sharp enough to cut to bone. Sunjata will feel a deep throb of apology and regret for not having mentioned it before. It had seemed like a mercy then.
But he listens instead. He’d offered the moment, like a fucking moron, he was going to be a big boy and deal with it. And seethe through every word that leaves Hotaru’s lips, Nate’s own mouth twisted in a poorly masked sneer.
It’s only when she comes to Atlas that Nate’s lets anything other than emotion flow through the bond, a whip rack of Bullshit snapping at Sunjata. He’s felt what Jack had, knows there had been nothing like grief plaguing her that night. Knows this is a show, like they can be manipulated with crocodile tears.
Sunjata speaks before he does, giving Nate the chance to reach into his pocket for another cigarette, then again for a match. He strikes it without looking away from Hotaru, lights his smoke slowly, so they can all bask in his magic. “Seems pretty con-fuckin-venient that you thought he might do something right as he was gonna do it.” Nate shoves his words where they fit between Sunjata’s, an endless echo of rage and confusion mirrored between them. “You’re sayin’ he got around you somehow and set fire to the stairs behind your back?”
Pemota bumps her tail against Sunjata’s jaw, a less than gentle reminder to relax as claws press against the table. This is all new still. “This doesn’t feel like something the big guy would come up with on his own though.” Nate’s next complaint drawls out of him, his head tipping towards Sunjata without severing the burning stare levelled towards the hybrid. “He’s a fucking psycho, sure, but not like that.” He tacks his words bat the end of Sunjata’s, connected but not, the ascended not caring if it makes it harder on Hotaru to answer.
“And it seems like you’ve done fine without us.” A hand shoots out to gesture at her, Nate huffing a sound through his nose and sneering. “Remi’s excited about it. And I can’t imagine how Ronin must feel.” Sarcasm drips off his words, sharp enough to cut to bone. Sunjata will feel a deep throb of apology and regret for not having mentioned it before. It had seemed like a mercy then.
NATE
