So immersed in the unrelenting torment of proximity without satisfaction, of his smaller betrayals by ceding to steadily, if incrementally augmenting cooperation (Carta, Ein--), in holding himself together through it and reining himself in, into a whole and not the stitching. So concentrated on that, McGillis's speed and back he lags in processing until startled by that glance.
Moreso by the criticism, and the thrust of it does thrust, severing him more neatly than should have been possible from the storm. Gaelio blinks, steps slowed with the second lag in connecting the audacity of it with its phrasing, the resigned inflection.
Some legitimacy in it. Here especially, isolated and close to McGillis, he seems incapable of stoppering the acid, spitting blistering censure. As though his silence of two years had collected reservoirs of his once typical, flowing chatter, but gone rotten, infected by betrayal and doubt. Now to burst and spew. Yet, he cannot allow McGillis that legitimacy. He has the right. He ought to take hold of him and shout it, and drive it into him.
It ought to surge and bristle through him, this ceaseless fury, and it has been unceasing, does not cease. Yet, cut a moment from it by that look, word, jolt, he bobs detached, and what first pulls across his face does bear teeth, does crook mouth, but might more closely resemble -- no.
As he fumbles to retie the string, he moves with incited alacrity, close to a jog to reach McGillis's side, though as far apart. Even with his delay, it is a quick thing. His legs are longer, only just. Fury boils, but lidded now, and he glances sidelong, a similar gesture, if much different emotion in the hard cast of his eyes. ]
By all means.
[ Dry, tongue scraping like sandpaper. ]
Before you go, advice. If you find it difficult to hear complaints, then you have two options.
[ Demonstrative, he raises his hand, lowering first thumb, then index finger as he counts off. ]
First: do not kill your ally, then expect to renew that accord. Two: kill him properly.
[ Wait. There dips the ring finger. If McGillis will not hear his words, regardless, then for the duration of truce... ]
no subject
So immersed in the unrelenting torment of proximity without satisfaction, of his smaller betrayals by ceding to steadily, if incrementally augmenting cooperation (Carta, Ein--), in holding himself together through it and reining himself in, into a whole and not the stitching. So concentrated on that, McGillis's speed and back he lags in processing until startled by that glance.
Moreso by the criticism, and the thrust of it does thrust, severing him more neatly than should have been possible from the storm. Gaelio blinks, steps slowed with the second lag in connecting the audacity of it with its phrasing, the resigned inflection.
Some legitimacy in it. Here especially, isolated and close to McGillis, he seems incapable of stoppering the acid, spitting blistering censure. As though his silence of two years had collected reservoirs of his once typical, flowing chatter, but gone rotten, infected by betrayal and doubt. Now to burst and spew. Yet, he cannot allow McGillis that legitimacy. He has the right. He ought to take hold of him and shout it, and drive it into him.
It ought to surge and bristle through him, this ceaseless fury, and it has been unceasing, does not cease. Yet, cut a moment from it by that look, word, jolt, he bobs detached, and what first pulls across his face does bear teeth, does crook mouth, but might more closely resemble -- no.
As he fumbles to retie the string, he moves with incited alacrity, close to a jog to reach McGillis's side, though as far apart. Even with his delay, it is a quick thing. His legs are longer, only just. Fury boils, but lidded now, and he glances sidelong, a similar gesture, if much different emotion in the hard cast of his eyes. ]
By all means.
[ Dry, tongue scraping like sandpaper. ]
Before you go, advice. If you find it difficult to hear complaints, then you have two options.
[ Demonstrative, he raises his hand, lowering first thumb, then index finger as he counts off. ]
First: do not kill your ally, then expect to renew that accord. Two: kill him properly.
[ Wait. There dips the ring finger. If McGillis will not hear his words, regardless, then for the duration of truce... ]
No, three. Earplugs. Try the dirt.