[ rain dampens scent, but jayce can't exactly say good things about the wetness itself. it limits his mobility doesn't make gathering wood for coal an easier task; wet logs meant difficulty catching. that meant more delays. even storing them within the convoy itself wouldn't save it from the dew sitting in the air. over all, it's a time.
eventually, the parts are found. the generator is repaired, and the shields are back up. they could rest, and jayce feels like he could use one. it sounds like an occasion to bring out the glass bottles of whiskey he'd found at the gas station. two of them; the first, meant to be shared with viktor alone, hoping to tast the theory that he could still somehow get hiw partner to drink, and see him drunk for a night if he were lucky enough. the second glass— he didn't know. turns out, it would serve as a peace offering, whenn the time was right.
same with john, jayce couldn't allow himself to walk the fine thread of grudges within a tightly nit convoy. they all needed each other. they needed a team, with working cogs, not irritable monsters at each others throats. they have enough of those around without lifting their hands to add to the bunch.
a familiar clo-closh of a limp and hooves in sodden grass approaches serph's truck; before long it's the antlers that show. earlier than that, perhaps his strange odor of radioactive rot wafts along with the humid crispness of earth. when jayce comes in range of the two, he tries not to pause; he was expecting heat, there. just had to push through it, the neck of the bottle in one grip, a long, sturdy stick in his other as a temporary cane stand-in. ]
Did it catch quick enough?
[ the fire, he means. just because he doesn't mean it doesn't mean he doesn't welcome warmth. he has some bad memories of the ravine, struggling to get a fire to burn in dampness still makes his skin prick. ]
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eventually, the parts are found. the generator is repaired, and the shields are back up. they could rest, and jayce feels like he could use one. it sounds like an occasion to bring out the glass bottles of whiskey he'd found at the gas station. two of them; the first, meant to be shared with viktor alone, hoping to tast the theory that he could still somehow get hiw partner to drink, and see him drunk for a night if he were lucky enough. the second glass— he didn't know. turns out, it would serve as a peace offering, whenn the time was right.
same with john, jayce couldn't allow himself to walk the fine thread of grudges within a tightly nit convoy. they all needed each other. they needed a team, with working cogs, not irritable monsters at each others throats. they have enough of those around without lifting their hands to add to the bunch.
a familiar clo-closh of a limp and hooves in sodden grass approaches serph's truck; before long it's the antlers that show. earlier than that, perhaps his strange odor of radioactive rot wafts along with the humid crispness of earth. when jayce comes in range of the two, he tries not to pause; he was expecting heat, there. just had to push through it, the neck of the bottle in one grip, a long, sturdy stick in his other as a temporary cane stand-in. ]
Did it catch quick enough?
[ the fire, he means. just because he doesn't mean it doesn't mean he doesn't welcome warmth. he has some bad memories of the ravine, struggling to get a fire to burn in dampness still makes his skin prick. ]