evocation | ⚡ ML INBOX

[And Kyna's feeling all the same things—grief and guilt and hurt, a sort of lingering fear that she hasn't been able to shake since she woke up. The difference is, she's also relieved, and she laces their fingers together, squeezing tight. Even something about the roughness of his hands is a reminder that they're them again, no strange other life, and it's deeply comforting in a way she wouldn't be able to put into words.

Despite her struggles with the empathy bond, she missed it, too. She missed the easy connection, the way it saves her from trying and failing to put her feelings into words. So part of this is for her, yes, but she thinks he needs it, too. Maybe knowing that she's feeling all the same things, that she's not judging or pitying him, will help.]

It's okay. You don't have to show me anything. This is all I wanted.

[Actually asking him to share memories with her from the Aerie when it's all so fresh just feels... invasive.]

[ So they sit there--in the stupid blue glow of their chests, under plants that spent the last couple of weeks threatening to take over the building--and Sam...he doesn't wonder what she feels, exactly, because he knows, but he wonders what she's thinking. What it's like inside her head, not just her heart, especially when they aren't touching.

He pulls her a little closer, his arm still around her, and looks up at the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. There's something in this he could get used to, even if the idea of it still raises his hackles. Just touching her, the best parts of last call with a pretty girl without having to start from scratch with the next one. Just none of the sex in between.

(Don't think about that. Not when Kyna can feel whatever longing and lust goes along with imagining getting a hand under her shirt, seeing her back arch--Jesus fucking Christ, Sam, think about famine or kicked puppies or something.)

He swallows. ]

How long d'you think before everyone else catches up to us? If they catch up to us. Maybe the city'll just be a wasteland until everyone over there kicks the bucket.

[Of course she feels it, whether he's thinking about famine or not. It's easy to brush off as just lust—he wants to sleep with her, and that's it. Any other possibility is too big, too scary to consider, so she just... doesn't. She likes this, feeling like she can open up to him, feeling like he's starting to trust her enough to do the same, and the idea of ruining it is terrifying.

So, she leans into him, running her thumb absently over his knuckles, and doesn't think about it. That's safer.]

Um... I don't know. I hope they come back soon.

[And she hopes they don't all have to die.]

Is Nate back?

[ She doesn't say anything about what comes through his hands, and he's grateful (and still trying to remember all the horrible ways pirates tortured captured crews, just in case).

The question's one neither of them can answer, more a silent request for a subject change than anything else, and Kyna's good about it. She tries, anyway. ]

Yeah. We, uh-- [ Talking about his own death doesn't really hit him--he's trying not to think about it as anything but a theoretical, something that kind of happened, kind of didn't--but knowing Nathan was right there with him? That's harder, a little pulse of unhappiness. He starts again, after a second or two. ] He's here.

[It's an odd hesitation, and she squeezes his hand impulsively.]

Is he okay?

[ It takes him too long to answer--just a second or two hanging past what's normal. Then a little sigh, and ]

Probably not. He, uh--you know about Ian?

Uh... What about Ian?

[There's a lot about Ian.]

Uh--

[ Does she really...not know..... ]

He's back here, too, right? He's the one that told me you were.

[ Quieter: ]

Nathan, he, uh. He was there for it.

Oh. Oh.

[There's a little rush of shock there, but it doesn't surprise her that she didn't know, necessarily. They hadn't talked about Nate or Sam—the other Sam. Too focused on each other, maybe, or avoiding the awkwardness of it.]

Uh... Is he okay?

[ Sam shrugs. Probably not? They haven't...really talked about it. Not since it happened, and Sam held him like a child, sitting in the rubble of a world that wasn't supposed to exist. ]

He will be. Eventually.

Yeah.

[She imagines that's going to be the answer for a lot of this.]

And I guess a lot of us ended up with relationships that don't... you know. Translate.

[ Oh, hey, room to talk about something else. He'll take it. ]

You mean you ain't planning a wedding any time soon.

[She bursts out laughing, shifting awkwardly.]

God, no. I mean, me and Sam are friends, but...

[ Something else to talk about, good. He'll tease her and pretend he doesn't feel any kind of relief about that, and it'll be fine. Normal. Everything's fine. ]

Damn. Had a speech planned and everything.

Really? You weren't gonna be that guy that shows up and objects?

Nah, I--

[ didn't feel like this. A little blip of something he wouldn't want to call anxiety (but which maybe is), and he shrugs like nothing's ever been wrong in his life. ]

I wanna keep getting discounts at the bar here, right?

[She scoffs.]

Oh, is that all I am to you? A beer discount?

I dunno - what d'you think?

[She grins, giving his hand a little tug.]

I dunno. Are you saying I'm not?

Maybe. [ He lets his hand be tugged. There's amusement coming through it, a warmth that doesn't really balance out everything else--but it's there, at least. ] Sometime I get whiskey outta the deal.

Ooh, whiskey. That's the nicest thing you can say?

Oh, you're fishing for compliments, is that it?

Yep.

[She beams at him.]

Compliment me.

Hm. You're the...hold on. Do I get one, too?

Yeah, duh. What am I, an asshole?

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