♠ | 025 | Voice

[lastrat]

[No video, this time, because he's still fucking angry. He can control the edge in his voice just barely - he can't control the glower. And he has yet to clean up his shattered Item, the second time he's broken it against a wall of his flat.

When he clicks on the audio, he sounds angry, but you might believe that he's managing it just fine. Might.]

Ellie's vanished.

[And that's all. He's not one for elaboration.]

[Private to Natasha]

Busy?

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[lastrat]

[It's so much easier, saying nothing, and without Cassel forcing the conversation, he lets it slip through his fingers, discomfort fading away. But he keeps his hand on Cassel's head, only moves enough to sip at his drink, and his thoughts wander.

He is tired, but not in the bone-aching way Cassel is. He is tired of being here. He is tired of being useless. He is tired of being forced to confront things about himself that he left dead and buried for reasons, good reasons. Before coming here, he hadn't thought about his parents in decades. Before coming here, he didn't allow himself to entertain what if scenarios. Now they intrude on his thoughts, worm there way into his mind like insidious tendrils of everything he has forbidden himself.

He wonders what it will be like when he leaves. He wonders if he will stay long enough to fulfill a deal, or if he will give up and run. He wonders if he will remember it all, or if some other reason for Vesper's presence will be left in his mind.

He wonders if Cassel would come live with them, if he asked. He wonders if Vesper would be okay with that. He wonders if he would.

His stomach twists in a way that is not very different from nausea, but he doesn't feel sick. He feels as if he could tremble apart into nothing, but he doesn't shake. He sits with Cassel's head on his knee, and has no idea how to merge the life he had with the life he now has.

He almost doesn't notice as Cassel drifts off.]