[ A special boy with a sick room to crash in, so is he complaining? Absolutely not. Reno, for his part, never dared do anyone with Geostigma the disservice of pitying them, at least not where they could see it. But that's also just him—sympathy and give the guy a breaks are tall orders. If you can walk, you can work. If you can breathe, you can still get shit done. Just... never mind the sleepless nights he spent fucking tortured wondering if everything he touches really does die or not. Kicking himself for not being able to do more—
That nudge to Roche's side finally comes, less a jab with his elbow and more of a light brush, as they make their way to the inn. His eyebrow twitches, but it isn't any wonder that Roche can smell the fatigue on him, found it tucked away in the various secret-keeping places in his face. They've known each other long enough by now to be able to read each other to filth, for better or worse. ]
It wasn't a Reeve job, but yeah, it's rocky out there. That's not really the problem, though; it's me. I'm the problem. Can't push sixteen hours behind the wheel like I used to. Shit's even worse on a hog. Not looking forward to the next time I gotta eat, bit my tongue so many damn times to stay alert it fuckin' feels like I gargled bleach.
[ That fireplace and bay window has him clinging onto life, though. This is why dying ain't worth it, man—because then you'd miss out on that. ]
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[ A special boy with a sick room to crash in, so is he complaining? Absolutely not. Reno, for his part, never dared do anyone with Geostigma the disservice of pitying them, at least not where they could see it. But that's also just him—sympathy and give the guy a breaks are tall orders. If you can walk, you can work. If you can breathe, you can still get shit done. Just... never mind the sleepless nights he spent fucking tortured wondering if everything he touches really does die or not. Kicking himself for not being able to do more—
That nudge to Roche's side finally comes, less a jab with his elbow and more of a light brush, as they make their way to the inn. His eyebrow twitches, but it isn't any wonder that Roche can smell the fatigue on him, found it tucked away in the various secret-keeping places in his face. They've known each other long enough by now to be able to read each other to filth, for better or worse. ]
It wasn't a Reeve job, but yeah, it's rocky out there. That's not really the problem, though; it's me. I'm the problem. Can't push sixteen hours behind the wheel like I used to. Shit's even worse on a hog. Not looking forward to the next time I gotta eat, bit my tongue so many damn times to stay alert it fuckin' feels like I gargled bleach.
[ That fireplace and bay window has him clinging onto life, though. This is why dying ain't worth it, man—because then you'd miss out on that. ]