bartholomew
He hates that Sunjata can so easily reach past the bristles, the hurt, the grief. He'd learned how to do it with Nate, and clearly the same tactics work on Bart. Or maybe he is just...tired. It has been two years of solitude, half of it spent in a drunken fugue of mourning. Bart had moved past Nate's death once before, doing it again had been harder but not impossible. But now he's back, and with Sunjata's hand on his shoulder and forehead against his own, Bart realizes how raw and alone he feels with all the fuel of anger and blame drained out of him.
"Was thinkin' of reopenin' the Wren Clinic," he admits in gruff, quiet undertone as he closes his eyes and leans into Sunjata, one hand rising to lay on the man's shoulder in parallel. "Focus on the Ancients first. 'stablish a healing network." It's a vague plan at best, but the only one he has right now - and it sounds like Sunjata has been blindly stumbling forward in much the same way, lacking purpose and direction. As the man adjusts to bring his arm around Bart's shoulder, the last Wren leans into the Flood's body and wonders when the last time he was touched was.
"Hell, you know I'd scare all the clients away at the brothel. Nate was always -" his throat clicks with grief that swells and chokes the words momentarily, but he soldiers on, refusing to let his twin's name and memory die because of his own cowardly tongue. "- always the more charming of us. And I'm too spindly to be a bouncer." The objections are valid, but it's instinctive to shy away and deflect, try to give space that...well, that Sunjata doesn't need anymore. And neither does Bart.
"But if ya show me where it is maybe I can visit? I need a city to open the clinic in so not thinkin' of leavin' the Grounds yet." He hasn't heard of where the brothel is but it certainly isn't in the Grounds or he would have wandered across it already.
"Was thinkin' of reopenin' the Wren Clinic," he admits in gruff, quiet undertone as he closes his eyes and leans into Sunjata, one hand rising to lay on the man's shoulder in parallel. "Focus on the Ancients first. 'stablish a healing network." It's a vague plan at best, but the only one he has right now - and it sounds like Sunjata has been blindly stumbling forward in much the same way, lacking purpose and direction. As the man adjusts to bring his arm around Bart's shoulder, the last Wren leans into the Flood's body and wonders when the last time he was touched was.
"Hell, you know I'd scare all the clients away at the brothel. Nate was always -" his throat clicks with grief that swells and chokes the words momentarily, but he soldiers on, refusing to let his twin's name and memory die because of his own cowardly tongue. "- always the more charming of us. And I'm too spindly to be a bouncer." The objections are valid, but it's instinctive to shy away and deflect, try to give space that...well, that Sunjata doesn't need anymore. And neither does Bart.
"But if ya show me where it is maybe I can visit? I need a city to open the clinic in so not thinkin' of leavin' the Grounds yet." He hasn't heard of where the brothel is but it certainly isn't in the Grounds or he would have wandered across it already.
Wake up, or you'll wake up six feet down
nobody's got your back in this town
nobody's got your back in this town
