09-02-2008, 02:42 AM
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_____“Yeah, you could have,” he said, not really going to lie about that. She could have screwed him up pretty bad, no doubt about it. “But you didn't,” and that was the thing that mattered most. She had come around to her senses either because he had stalled her long enough or the thing that was making her sick from the inside-out had retreated its attack. For now, maybe for a few minutes, maybe forever, who knew. Though he was surprised to see her hand over the knife's sheath, his expression didn't reflect it.
_____Slipping the knife into the sheath, he let out a sigh and shifted his weight uneasily between his feet, the new found tension in his body didn't want to let up for anything. It was a mixture of things, worry for starters, the pessimism-realism that seemed to flood most of his thoughts, and perhaps even a little fear. No, not just a little, he had a definite fear that was beginning to take root. “You're not going crazy,” he said after a pause, listening carefully to way the she was bottling things up breath by breath. “You were already a little crazy to begin with; we all are,” and he let out a bark of a laugh that sounded far more genuine than he was. They were all a little crazy, they had gone crazy a lot time ago.
_____“C’mon, let's go back to the camp site. I can't really throw you in the shack or the shed because there's no room, so I guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you another way.” Too many years of going through the motions of bad things had gave him a knack for sounding like everything was okay. But if keeping an eye on her got him sick in the long run and he turned out to be some sort of monster that he didn't know about, well, then it was going to happen. Laurel weighed his chances in a couple of steps as he slung an arm around Nikita to herd in towards home; he figured out the percentages in his own little ways. They said he was probably already on its own slippery slope of dissent.
_____“Yeah, you could have,” he said, not really going to lie about that. She could have screwed him up pretty bad, no doubt about it. “But you didn't,” and that was the thing that mattered most. She had come around to her senses either because he had stalled her long enough or the thing that was making her sick from the inside-out had retreated its attack. For now, maybe for a few minutes, maybe forever, who knew. Though he was surprised to see her hand over the knife's sheath, his expression didn't reflect it.
_____Slipping the knife into the sheath, he let out a sigh and shifted his weight uneasily between his feet, the new found tension in his body didn't want to let up for anything. It was a mixture of things, worry for starters, the pessimism-realism that seemed to flood most of his thoughts, and perhaps even a little fear. No, not just a little, he had a definite fear that was beginning to take root. “You're not going crazy,” he said after a pause, listening carefully to way the she was bottling things up breath by breath. “You were already a little crazy to begin with; we all are,” and he let out a bark of a laugh that sounded far more genuine than he was. They were all a little crazy, they had gone crazy a lot time ago.
_____“C’mon, let's go back to the camp site. I can't really throw you in the shack or the shed because there's no room, so I guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you another way.” Too many years of going through the motions of bad things had gave him a knack for sounding like everything was okay. But if keeping an eye on her got him sick in the long run and he turned out to be some sort of monster that he didn't know about, well, then it was going to happen. Laurel weighed his chances in a couple of steps as he slung an arm around Nikita to herd in towards home; he figured out the percentages in his own little ways. They said he was probably already on its own slippery slope of dissent.