![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( prax doesn't flinch at the sting of alcohol, but he flinches a little when amos pulls the first staple out, even though his hand remains open where he's holding it out and his shoulders don't curl forward. he's trying, jaw clenched, to be tough. )
[ If Amos notices how still and tense Prax is holding himself, he doesn't say anything. There's no point, and Prax is doing just fine anyway. Amos moves on the the second staple after dropping the first in Prax's palm, a drop of blood splashing on to Prax's thumb. ]
Looks like it's healing well.
Looks like it's healing well.
( prax is trying. he isn't used to this kind of thing, but he knows if mei were here and their roles reversed, he'd be telling her to be brave and not to be scared. he's trying to take that advice.
he has nothing to be afraid of with amos, anyway, it's just that it hurts a bit. it's just that it's a reminder of loss and pain. )
Yeah? Good. ( he glances down at that drop of blood and away again. ) Thanks, Amos.
he has nothing to be afraid of with amos, anyway, it's just that it hurts a bit. it's just that it's a reminder of loss and pain. )
Yeah? Good. ( he glances down at that drop of blood and away again. ) Thanks, Amos.
Wouldn't want you looking like Frankenstein when you get your little girl back.
[ Another staple pops out as Amos dismisses the gratefulness, shaking his head. Amos swabs the pliers with some more alcohol, going back to Prax's head with care, big hands steady and precise. ]
[ Another staple pops out as Amos dismisses the gratefulness, shaking his head. Amos swabs the pliers with some more alcohol, going back to Prax's head with care, big hands steady and precise. ]
[ Amos stills, pliers holding on to a staple. ]
Damn, that's right.
[ Names - they matter. Maybe the monster not having a name made it even worse. Amos stays like this for a moment, just considering. Prax is a doctor, one that circumstances have been slowly turning into something else. Someone else. Amos just wants to keep him safe, help him with his kid.
Amos's wondering if he's the doctor, here, turning Prax into a monster like he himself is. ]
Well. You'll have a scar, but you'll look like Prax.
Damn, that's right.
[ Names - they matter. Maybe the monster not having a name made it even worse. Amos stays like this for a moment, just considering. Prax is a doctor, one that circumstances have been slowly turning into something else. Someone else. Amos just wants to keep him safe, help him with his kid.
Amos's wondering if he's the doctor, here, turning Prax into a monster like he himself is. ]
Well. You'll have a scar, but you'll look like Prax.
( prax can't guess at what's going on in amos' mind. even if he could — he's admittedly still preoccupied with everything else. with mei, first and foremost. with how much being here will hurt his progress in that regard. they were so close to io before. now he's here. he's preoccupied with that, too. worried about the implications of it.
no, scared.
but amos' presence helps with that. )
That's something, right? ( it's a weak attempt at levity. maybe all of this will only leave scars, but he'll still be himself by the end of it. he can only hope so. )
no, scared.
but amos' presence helps with that. )
That's something, right? ( it's a weak attempt at levity. maybe all of this will only leave scars, but he'll still be himself by the end of it. he can only hope so. )
[ Amos pauses again, but then moves again, pulling another staple and leaning around so that he can look at Prax straight in the eyes.
He's never really thought about it, at least not on any kind of deep level, but he'd have to be blind not to see how handsome Prax is. It's not just that, either, it's not just looks. It's the look in his eyes, the hope he clings to, the love he has for his kid. It makes him glow from the inside out, to Amos, almost blindingly so. ]
It's something, all right.
[ Amos is no good with words. But he tries to show that he means it through his eyes, moving over Prax's face, before he moves back, and gets back to work. ]
He's never really thought about it, at least not on any kind of deep level, but he'd have to be blind not to see how handsome Prax is. It's not just that, either, it's not just looks. It's the look in his eyes, the hope he clings to, the love he has for his kid. It makes him glow from the inside out, to Amos, almost blindingly so. ]
It's something, all right.
[ Amos is no good with words. But he tries to show that he means it through his eyes, moving over Prax's face, before he moves back, and gets back to work. ]
[ Alex had been letting himself go, the last week or so, beard a little longer than usual and hair a little poofier - but that isn't the case now. He's meticulously groomed himself, half out of nerves and half out of stalling while he tried to figure out how to do this. But in the end this was something he had to do, because he couldn't leave things as they were. He wasn't going to be the cause for a rift in his family if he could help it. Especially when he'd finally figured out that he was wrong.
So it was that he found himself outside of Amos' door, one arm still in a sling and the other holding a plate from the mess hall with a weird layered thing that looked vaguely reminiscent of a cake, if cakes came in flesh colours.
He realised when he got there that he didn't have a hand to knock with, and sighed to himself, before carefully reaching out with a magboot and tapping the door with his toe.]
Uh... Amos, you in there?
So it was that he found himself outside of Amos' door, one arm still in a sling and the other holding a plate from the mess hall with a weird layered thing that looked vaguely reminiscent of a cake, if cakes came in flesh colours.
He realised when he got there that he didn't have a hand to knock with, and sighed to himself, before carefully reaching out with a magboot and tapping the door with his toe.]
Uh... Amos, you in there?
( that's not what prax had meant at all. he'd been thinking of staying himself, not of anything regarding his appearance. if he knew that's what's going through amos' mind, he'd — he doesn't know what he'd do. blush, maybe. smile and look down or ignore it out of guilt for, what, flirting while mei is still gone?
he has no idea. he does know that amos is looking at him in a way that makes something inside his stomach clench. amos carries an intensity in him that prax used to find scary. now, it isn't fear sitting inside his chest, though he can't, won't name what it is. )
Thanks. ( he says after a while, repeating himself, meaning both the words and amos helping him. )
he has no idea. he does know that amos is looking at him in a way that makes something inside his stomach clench. amos carries an intensity in him that prax used to find scary. now, it isn't fear sitting inside his chest, though he can't, won't name what it is. )
Thanks. ( he says after a while, repeating himself, meaning both the words and amos helping him. )
[Not long after Bobbie overhears the fight between Amos and Alex, her armor appears on her bed, just like that. After weeks of searching, it feels less like a miracle and more like a trap. When she checks it over, she realizes it's charging by itself, albeit slowly, and that all of the weapons are missing. She has no way to know if it's been tampered with further, so her immediate thought is to text Amos. And hey, maybe she can figure out what the hell was with that argument, too.]
hey, do you have a minute? i need your help.
hey, do you have a minute? i need your help.
[ Amos had also been letting his beard grow, but it was carefully maintained, something he was very conscious of rather than letting it happen. He wasn't sure why he was, apart that he liked it.
He also had been carefully avoiding Alex for a while. Since their fight, and calming down, he'd made a decision - if Alex didn't want him to care, then he wouldn't. He knew they both had said things they didn't truly mean, harsh words meant to hurt as much as bullets could. But now, Amos was living his life, just... without Alex in it.
It didn't feel good. And Amos was trying to find a way to apologize, some way that would make sense, that would let Alex know that Amos had gone too far, even if it came from a good place. He just wasn't there yet. He didn't know how to.
Which is why he's startled and unsettled when Alex knocks on his door. Amos stands from where he'd been checking over some tools at his desk, and pushes the open door button. He doesn't say anything. ]
He also had been carefully avoiding Alex for a while. Since their fight, and calming down, he'd made a decision - if Alex didn't want him to care, then he wouldn't. He knew they both had said things they didn't truly mean, harsh words meant to hurt as much as bullets could. But now, Amos was living his life, just... without Alex in it.
It didn't feel good. And Amos was trying to find a way to apologize, some way that would make sense, that would let Alex know that Amos had gone too far, even if it came from a good place. He just wasn't there yet. He didn't know how to.
Which is why he's startled and unsettled when Alex knocks on his door. Amos stands from where he'd been checking over some tools at his desk, and pushes the open door button. He doesn't say anything. ]
Uh - hey.
[ Solid start there, cowboy. Real damn smooth.
Idjit.
He shifted awkwardly, eyes cast a little down, almost looking at Amos's throat instead of his face. He'd tried about six different ways of doing this, in the mirror, resenting the fact that he couldn't just talk it out with the Roci, despite the fact that she'd have about the same amount of advice as the mirror did. But it all fled his head anyway. He glanced down at the plate in his hands, and then held it out. ]
Tried about thirty six damn times to make lasagna. [ Seriously, he'd spent about five hours down there. ] Whatever the hell this is, it ain't that, but it's - it's the closest I could get it to come to. Basically just... Tastes like soy bean paste in some kind of salty sauce, but it - if you close your eyes, the texture's almost right.
[ Solid start there, cowboy. Real damn smooth.
Idjit.
He shifted awkwardly, eyes cast a little down, almost looking at Amos's throat instead of his face. He'd tried about six different ways of doing this, in the mirror, resenting the fact that he couldn't just talk it out with the Roci, despite the fact that she'd have about the same amount of advice as the mirror did. But it all fled his head anyway. He glanced down at the plate in his hands, and then held it out. ]
Tried about thirty six damn times to make lasagna. [ Seriously, he'd spent about five hours down there. ] Whatever the hell this is, it ain't that, but it's - it's the closest I could get it to come to. Basically just... Tastes like soy bean paste in some kind of salty sauce, but it - if you close your eyes, the texture's almost right.
Edited 2018-06-03 10:39 (UTC)
[ Amos knows an apology when he sees one. And this has all the makings of one. Amos scratches down his throat with a finger, before stepping aside enough to let Alex through. He moves back to sit down at his desk, picking up a wrench. ]
You made it for me?
You made it for me?
Page 4 of 15