It might at some odd cross-roads with oddness. His whole life. When he knows what he was thinking a handful of minutes ago, ten minutes ago, but standing there, looking at her, while Danny is at the edge of his vision, the only thought is rather economical. That this moment, right here, this one, if he were to put his finger on it. Is.
It's uncertain, maybe even obviously awkward when Danny heads for the fridge and Cath looks after him, when the two of the most important people still in his life are eying, or avoiding eyeing, each other in a brand new way than any other day they had.
But it is not three days ago. It's not that moment when the door open, or the whole half hour following it. It's not a week ago, when the likelihood of crashing in the ground, nose down on purpose, didn't even allow him to think about being dead, so much as the logical overwhelming likelihood of dying in the attempt. It's not actual torture, the real slashing of his skin, true threat to his life.
Things stack up oddly, and disjointed. When he's wondering how bad it could actually be. Cath isn't the kind to make a scene, their training handled that in spades, and Danny was, but not after he'd already made one so large he wasn't pleased to be dragging himself back inside Steve's house. It's more like an odd stand-off.
Cath reserved, not quite to hesitating and then, definitely trying, tossing out a really bright smile. Even if Danny looses it in his beer cap. But there are still words, which could be worse right? Or well. They've seen worse. It mumbles and runs away very suddenly, gets shouted questions and more rushing. So, it's not too surprising, even if he does choose a counter to lean on, and toss in on Cath's words.
"And if she's in one of the moods where it doesn't take a crowbar to remove her from the ship."
Yeah, he might be in deep. He might have other things coming to him. But that didn't make it any less true, either.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-07 03:53 am (UTC)It's uncertain, maybe even obviously awkward when Danny heads for the fridge and Cath looks after him, when the two of the most important people still in his life are eying, or avoiding eyeing, each other in a brand new way than any other day they had.
But it is not three days ago. It's not that moment when the door open, or the whole half hour following it. It's not a week ago, when the likelihood of crashing in the ground, nose down on purpose, didn't even allow him to think about being dead, so much as the logical overwhelming likelihood of dying in the attempt. It's not actual torture, the real slashing of his skin, true threat to his life.
Things stack up oddly, and disjointed. When he's wondering how bad it could actually be. Cath isn't the kind to make a scene, their training handled that in spades, and Danny was, but not after he'd already made one so large he wasn't pleased to be dragging himself back inside Steve's house. It's more like an odd stand-off.
Cath reserved, not quite to hesitating and then, definitely trying, tossing out a really bright smile. Even if Danny looses it in his beer cap. But there are still words, which could be worse right? Or well. They've seen worse. It mumbles and runs away very suddenly, gets shouted questions and more rushing. So, it's not too surprising, even if he does choose a counter to lean on, and toss in on Cath's words.
"And if she's in one of the moods where it doesn't take a crowbar to remove her from the ship."
Yeah, he might be in deep. He might have other things coming to him. But that didn't make it any less true, either.