[Yep. So clearly crazy. He dragged his eyes from the tent back to her, watching for a minute. Between them, could see each huffing breath he had fogging up in front of his face; they were fast, angry. If Grif were here--
But he wasn't. At least not in this immediate area. None of them were, and Wash was somewhere else, and Carolina wanted him to trust the Meta like everything was fine and nothing happened. Like shit was normal. Like it was okay.]
I trusted Church with my life, and he's dead. [Which one. Ha. Fuck.] And I'll give you one guess on whose fault that shit is.
[Well, it was combination, but--
And he couldn't help but look a little hurt, a little betrayed, a little alone in a sea of Shit That Didn't Make Sense. Fuck, he wished Epsilon was here. Hell, he wished Caboose was here, just something familiar because he wanted her to be it. He wanted her to be Home, but she didn't even know about the Staff, didn't know about the Mantises. She didn't know what he knew.]
Whatever. What-the-fuck-ever. [He couldn't. He couldn't fucking deal with having to accept the Meta. He couldn't deal with Chorus 2.0, couldn't deal with Churches multiple deaths laying out before him, the first one because of the Meta, the second to function his stupid armor. He couldn't.]
Try not to put a gun to the back of my head when I walk away this time, okay? [It was a low blow, snarky, bitchy, mean, but he couldn't help it; finally knowing what the face looked like under that helmet did it to him. Everything did it to him, and he just needed to go somewhere. Anywhere. Go breathe and try to find a way out of this shithole or find someone who could help him. Because there had to be someone who could, dammit. At least one person, and he turned to march off and find them.]
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But he wasn't. At least not in this immediate area. None of them were, and Wash was somewhere else, and Carolina wanted him to trust the Meta like everything was fine and nothing happened. Like shit was normal. Like it was okay.]
I trusted Church with my life, and he's dead. [Which one. Ha. Fuck.] And I'll give you one guess on whose fault that shit is.
[Well, it was combination, but--
And he couldn't help but look a little hurt, a little betrayed, a little alone in a sea of Shit That Didn't Make Sense. Fuck, he wished Epsilon was here. Hell, he wished Caboose was here, just something familiar because he wanted her to be it. He wanted her to be Home, but she didn't even know about the Staff, didn't know about the Mantises. She didn't know what he knew.]
Whatever. What-the-fuck-ever. [He couldn't. He couldn't fucking deal with having to accept the Meta. He couldn't deal with Chorus 2.0, couldn't deal with Churches multiple deaths laying out before him, the first one because of the Meta, the second to function his stupid armor. He couldn't.]
Try not to put a gun to the back of my head when I walk away this time, okay? [It was a low blow, snarky, bitchy, mean, but he couldn't help it; finally knowing what the face looked like under that helmet did it to him. Everything did it to him, and he just needed to go somewhere. Anywhere. Go breathe and try to find a way out of this shithole or find someone who could help him. Because there had to be someone who could, dammit. At least one person, and he turned to march off and find them.]