[ It had been an invitation, one phrased casually enough that it would have been easy to ignore or turn down. He can't help but feel relieved that she does neither, even if he's still anxious about it.
That second worth of relief in her expression is enough to make him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. But he doesn't mention it. ]
Amos and that one kid managed to get one of them workin' well enough to almost make real food. I even got somethin' close to lasagna, earlier.
Hell, we could try and see if it'll make an omelette.
[ He had no idea if it was morning either, but then, on the station, there wasn't really any way to tell anyway, other than the clocks. Which he didn't bother to check, as he groaned and pulled himself up off the wall. He still felt a little dizzy, mostly out of drowziness, but otherwise okay. ]
You feel alright? Get some decent sleep, at least?
[ He keeps more distance between them than he used to - over aware of how close he is, at any given time, and doesn't quite get within arm's reach. He also slips his hands into his pockets as he walks. ]
The music's done, so hell, I'd be dancin' if I didn't still feel like I could sleep another week and a half.
[It's not much of a response, but she's too focused on how much distance he's keeping between them. It's significant, and it just serves to make her feel more miserable. She doesn't bother to try to close the gap—it's clear he's doing it because he's not comfortable with anything else, so she just focuses on the hallway in front of them. She can't quite bring herself to look at him, because just looking at him, knowing there's a new wall between them, makes her heart twist.]
[ He's trying to be respectful, he thinks, trying to keep it less awkward. Because he doesn't know what he'd do if his hand accidentally brushed hers and she looked the way she had after they'd kissed. He wasn't sure he could deal with it. He knew they needed to talk about it, but - he'd never been good at that. Ever. Every time he thought about bringing it up he just slid straight into avoidance mode. It took everything he had just to try to keep up general appearances rather than run half way across the system.
He'd always been better at running, than facing it.
So he's counting it as a win, that he can speak casually and keep walking down the hall.
That being said, the silence that descended was awkward as hell, and it set a misery easily into his bones, though he tried not to let it leak into his expression. (He failed.) He cleared his throat, again. ]
... At least I feel like I can think again.
[ That was close to the discussion, right? That was almost not completely avoiding it? Maybe? ]
[It's sort of close, though she's not entirely sure how to take it. Her mouth twists, and she forces herself to glance over at him. Jesus, this sucks.]
It's a hell of a lot easier when there's not shitty Earther music blasting at us.
[ There's another awkward pause, and he doesn't meet her gaze when she looks at him, his brows furrowed and his eyes locked on where they're going. ]
Though that's ain't - all of it, I guess? Spent the whole damn time feelin' like a live wire, if you know what I mean. Now I feel like I can breathe again.
[ He shifted his weight a little awkwardly, almost pulling his hands out of his pockets and then remembering why they were there in the first place and sliding them back in. ]
[Bobbie keeps watching him, her frown deepening, and when he nearly frees his hands and then shoves them back in his pockets, she lets out a frustrated breath, but her voice sounds more hurt than angry.]
[ Ouch. He almost winced, at that, but he came to a halt, pulling in breath and then letting it out again, his expression a little miserable.
He was trying so hard not to ruin things, and yet here he was. Definitely ruining things. ]
Yeah.
[ His voice was quiet. 'We need to talk' had never, in his experience, ever led to anything good. So he was already folding in on himself and prepping for disaster. ]
[Bobbie stops too, hating the look on his face. For a second, she hesitates, then offers him her hand. She doesn't know what she'll do if he refuses it.]
[ It's an olive branch, and there's a quick flash of complete and utter gratitude on his face before he manages to school his expression back to something neutral.
He reached out and carefully took her hand, giving it a small squeeze. ]
Probably a better idea than the mess hall, [ He agreed weakly. ]
[She squeezes back a little more tightly, completely and utterly relieved, and heads back to the room. They haven't gotten far, so it doesn't take long, and as soon as they're inside she hits the panel to lock the door. This is going to be hard enough without someone wandering in.]
[ He still had her hand in his, but he could feel the anxiety building again.
It was nothing like before, though. Nothing like the all-consuming feeling that he could barely think through. That he kept acting on even when he knew better.
No, instead, he just feels it laced gently into a low-level ambient misery. ]
... Yeah.
[ He leaves it there for a few seconds, as the most helpful reply in the world. Then he sort of lets out a breath. ]
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[ There was a slight pause, there, a grimace spreading across his face. ]
... Nah, it really don't, can't use that metaphor anymore.
I am pretty damn hungry, though.
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Want to go see what kind of crap the replicators are spitting out?
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That second worth of relief in her expression is enough to make him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. But he doesn't mention it. ]
Amos and that one kid managed to get one of them workin' well enough to almost make real food. I even got somethin' close to lasagna, earlier.
[
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[Actually, she's not even sure if it's morning.]
Alright, show me.
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[ He had no idea if it was morning either, but then, on the station, there wasn't really any way to tell anyway, other than the clocks. Which he didn't bother to check, as he groaned and pulled himself up off the wall. He still felt a little dizzy, mostly out of drowziness, but otherwise okay. ]
You feel alright? Get some decent sleep, at least?
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[Which isn't saying much, but whatever.]
What about you? Are you... doing okay?
[She doesn't really just mean physically.]
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The music's done, so hell, I'd be dancin' if I didn't still feel like I could sleep another week and a half.
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[It's not much of a response, but she's too focused on how much distance he's keeping between them. It's significant, and it just serves to make her feel more miserable. She doesn't bother to try to close the gap—it's clear he's doing it because he's not comfortable with anything else, so she just focuses on the hallway in front of them. She can't quite bring herself to look at him, because just looking at him, knowing there's a new wall between them, makes her heart twist.]
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He'd always been better at running, than facing it.
So he's counting it as a win, that he can speak casually and keep walking down the hall.
That being said, the silence that descended was awkward as hell, and it set a misery easily into his bones, though he tried not to let it leak into his expression. (He failed.) He cleared his throat, again. ]
... At least I feel like I can think again.
[ That was close to the discussion, right? That was almost not completely avoiding it? Maybe? ]
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It's a hell of a lot easier when there's not shitty Earther music blasting at us.
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[ There's another awkward pause, and he doesn't meet her gaze when she looks at him, his brows furrowed and his eyes locked on where they're going. ]
Though that's ain't - all of it, I guess? Spent the whole damn time feelin' like a live wire, if you know what I mean. Now I feel like I can breathe again.
[ He shifted his weight a little awkwardly, almost pulling his hands out of his pockets and then remembering why they were there in the first place and sliding them back in. ]
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Alex. I'm not going to infect you.
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That ain't-- [ He starts, but he cuts off a little miserably. Yeah. It kind of was what he was doing. ]
... Sorry, Gunny. I'm just tryin' to - hell, I don't know. Tryin' not to make it worse.
[ Which meant he was definitely making it worse. ]
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[Blunt, maybe, but it's true.]
I think we need to talk.
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He was trying so hard not to ruin things, and yet here he was. Definitely ruining things. ]
Yeah.
[ His voice was quiet. 'We need to talk' had never, in his experience, ever led to anything good. So he was already folding in on himself and prepping for disaster. ]
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Back in the room, maybe.
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He reached out and carefully took her hand, giving it a small squeeze. ]
Probably a better idea than the mess hall, [ He agreed weakly. ]
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You said you can think straight now.
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It was nothing like before, though. Nothing like the all-consuming feeling that he could barely think through. That he kept acting on even when he knew better.
No, instead, he just feels it laced gently into a low-level ambient misery. ]
... Yeah.
[ He leaves it there for a few seconds, as the most helpful reply in the world. Then he sort of lets out a breath. ]
What about you?
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[She lets out a breath, turning around her letting her back hit the wall, though she keeps ahold of his hand.]
Do you want to start, or should I?
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... Think you've got more questions than I do. So you can start.
[ He only really had one question, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to ask it. ]
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I think we should start with Talissa.
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... It wasn't about her. [ He realised how that sounded, and grimaced. ]
I mean I - I ain't - I ain't lookin' for her.
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What do you mean?
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Feeling like an asshole.
His eyes drop to his feet. ]
I ain't good at this, Gunny. I never have been. [ He let out a breath. Come the hell on, Kamal. ]
But it ain't - Honestly I didn't even think about her. Once. Not until you mentioned her. And I know that makes me sound like a goddamn asshole.
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