[ Five months... God, it doesn't quite look like years anymore, but in defense of the both of them, it doesn't look like five months either. She may have barely known this old face less than a day, but there's something that resonates in the sort of fragileness they've seen in one another. In that half a day, and in that summer twenty-seven years behind it. The rain is cooling on their red-rimmed eyes, but there'd be no hiding them, let alone judging them. ]
[ She isn't an idiot, try as the world might to make her seem it. Maybe the brochures were cute, in some after school nerd kind of way, maybe the promise of free lodging to get back on one's feet is more than she'd ever expected to get back home, even if they had made it out of everything alive. But no two royal cities sell themselves that hard when there's no beef between them, she could feel it in the air. Richie might be the most unreliable narrator when there's a story to tell (and God in heaven, if he didn't have a story or two by now he'd be lying), but here there's none of his usual bluster here, none of the sort he usually spends in spades on blowing everything out of proportion. ]
[ Whatever's happened here in those five months, it's shaken him to his core so bad he's too messed up to laugh about it. Curses and monsters and magic wands, she'd gotten enough of that up there in space too, and she can't help shuddering when he turns to snatch up his coat. But honestly, it's half a shudder of laughter she's still got kicking around for the both of them. Scraped off the cold bottom of the barrel. ]
I spent the past three days hunting for you round a space station full of freakshows like Sigourney goddamn Weaver, you don't have to waste your breath on regular.
[ Down here, though... Things aren't regular in a whole new way. And even through the chucks, it's noted. She spends that time scraping her sodden hair off her face, off her back and over a shoulder and continuing to tame it down even as his hand finds her other again to lead her along. She takes it firmly, glancing up toward the road before back down into their forested little ditch. There's some brush to push through, but at least the earth is held together by grassroots off the beaten path. ]
Let's hike, the main drag is like quicksand up there. I almost lost my shoes. [ And besides, maybe it'd be a little nostalgic. Eager as she is to be out of the rain at this point, that doesn't mean she's going to stop, ] There's something I have to ask you too.
[ Or, maybe, it does mean she's going to stop, at least verbally as her eyes find her feet to traverse through the undergrowth. She doesn't even know how to go on, how you're even supposed to talk about any of this without getting checked in somewhere. But he's been here five months longer than she has. If either of them are going to think she isn't crazy, it'll be him. She takes a breath before looking up again. There's a million somethings she has to ask him, but first and foremost, ] I saw the others. When I woke up, when I was looking for you. They weren't...
[ Fuck, they weren't regular either. Sleeping, sure, Bill and Ben, they seemed alright on the surface, but just conjuring up the mental image of how ghastly Mike and Eddie looked beneath that glass has heat springing to her eyes and throat again, and her hand clamps a moment around his fingers. ]
That wasn't all part of the crossfire, was it? Or part of the Storm? They look like hell, Richie.
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[ She isn't an idiot, try as the world might to make her seem it. Maybe the brochures were cute, in some after school nerd kind of way, maybe the promise of free lodging to get back on one's feet is more than she'd ever expected to get back home, even if they had made it out of everything alive. But no two royal cities sell themselves that hard when there's no beef between them, she could feel it in the air. Richie might be the most unreliable narrator when there's a story to tell (and God in heaven, if he didn't have a story or two by now he'd be lying), but here there's none of his usual bluster here, none of the sort he usually spends in spades on blowing everything out of proportion. ]
[ Whatever's happened here in those five months, it's shaken him to his core so bad he's too messed up to laugh about it. Curses and monsters and magic wands, she'd gotten enough of that up there in space too, and she can't help shuddering when he turns to snatch up his coat. But honestly, it's half a shudder of laughter she's still got kicking around for the both of them. Scraped off the cold bottom of the barrel. ]
I spent the past three days hunting for you round a space station full of freakshows like Sigourney goddamn Weaver, you don't have to waste your breath on regular.
[ Down here, though... Things aren't regular in a whole new way. And even through the chucks, it's noted. She spends that time scraping her sodden hair off her face, off her back and over a shoulder and continuing to tame it down even as his hand finds her other again to lead her along. She takes it firmly, glancing up toward the road before back down into their forested little ditch. There's some brush to push through, but at least the earth is held together by grassroots off the beaten path. ]
Let's hike, the main drag is like quicksand up there. I almost lost my shoes. [ And besides, maybe it'd be a little nostalgic. Eager as she is to be out of the rain at this point, that doesn't mean she's going to stop, ] There's something I have to ask you too.
[ Or, maybe, it does mean she's going to stop, at least verbally as her eyes find her feet to traverse through the undergrowth. She doesn't even know how to go on, how you're even supposed to talk about any of this without getting checked in somewhere. But he's been here five months longer than she has. If either of them are going to think she isn't crazy, it'll be him. She takes a breath before looking up again. There's a million somethings she has to ask him, but first and foremost, ] I saw the others. When I woke up, when I was looking for you. They weren't...
[ Fuck, they weren't regular either. Sleeping, sure, Bill and Ben, they seemed alright on the surface, but just conjuring up the mental image of how ghastly Mike and Eddie looked beneath that glass has heat springing to her eyes and throat again, and her hand clamps a moment around his fingers. ]
That wasn't all part of the crossfire, was it? Or part of the Storm? They look like hell, Richie.