i don't know where home is, but i suppose it's anywhere i go that's any good at all
Nate is well used to talking in circles with the inebriated, to dropping and picking up topics like a game, and, dark as it might be, murdering Melita's father is one that will have to be circled back to, if only because the statement comes before a fucking story about a tank, and like hell is he going to interrupt that for a little murder. Even his own story isn't good enough to do anything more than peter off in the face of it.
There's no better way to highlight the differences between them, between where they came from, than the strangely casual way Sunjata explains the tank, as a patrol vehicle. And Nate has to stop him, just for a moment, just so he can very quickly say, "I've never seen a tank in real life before. Everyone had cars, police included." He falls quiet quickly though, rumbling a content sound as fingers drummed across his chest, as Sunjata recounted a story that seemed absolutely crazy. The plot of a movie, all wrapped into one story, one day of the other mans life. One day. But Nate laughs along, shifting his head so he can offer over more of his smile, moving his hand up to trace along a sharp cheek, a rough jaw. "I can't believe you stole a tank, and didn't even get to use it." There's a dramatic sigh, a single finger tapping the other man's jaw just once, in faux admonishment. He should be more concerned, should maybe be a little less blase, but it was the past, and clearly Sunjata had made it through in one piece.
"Are you trouble?" Nate hums, utterly unable to help himself, to stop the slow smirk that crosses his face. "I thought you were Sunny." A kiss is pressed against Sunjata's head as he settles, Nate keeping close, not pulling his head, his lips away while he listens. "Sounds like she must have knocked you on your ass more than once." There's a shift back towards that darkness, towards a seriousness that has his arms tightening, while he listens, without interrupting now. While there is something close to jealousy, the feeling that he couldn't possible live up to what Lusea had left behind, it was swallowed, almost immediately, by relief, or something close to it. There wasn't a hole to fill, just a change, a shift. "I'm glad you had her."
And look, here's where they circle back, the note about Melita's father coming back up, wrapping up the question he'd had nicely. Well, not nicely. "It's too bad you didn't get to do it." He offers, taking a step back without thinking, because if he paused to think, the words wouldn't come. "When I worked with my, uh... my dad, one of my jobs was cleaning up after... things like that. Snitches, and all." It feels strange to admit, strange to shift the focus back onto him, but he'd said he was going to make an effort to share more. Maybe he could justify it as a kindness, a distraction from what happened after they had been captured.
There's no better way to highlight the differences between them, between where they came from, than the strangely casual way Sunjata explains the tank, as a patrol vehicle. And Nate has to stop him, just for a moment, just so he can very quickly say, "I've never seen a tank in real life before. Everyone had cars, police included." He falls quiet quickly though, rumbling a content sound as fingers drummed across his chest, as Sunjata recounted a story that seemed absolutely crazy. The plot of a movie, all wrapped into one story, one day of the other mans life. One day. But Nate laughs along, shifting his head so he can offer over more of his smile, moving his hand up to trace along a sharp cheek, a rough jaw. "I can't believe you stole a tank, and didn't even get to use it." There's a dramatic sigh, a single finger tapping the other man's jaw just once, in faux admonishment. He should be more concerned, should maybe be a little less blase, but it was the past, and clearly Sunjata had made it through in one piece.
"Are you trouble?" Nate hums, utterly unable to help himself, to stop the slow smirk that crosses his face. "I thought you were Sunny." A kiss is pressed against Sunjata's head as he settles, Nate keeping close, not pulling his head, his lips away while he listens. "Sounds like she must have knocked you on your ass more than once." There's a shift back towards that darkness, towards a seriousness that has his arms tightening, while he listens, without interrupting now. While there is something close to jealousy, the feeling that he couldn't possible live up to what Lusea had left behind, it was swallowed, almost immediately, by relief, or something close to it. There wasn't a hole to fill, just a change, a shift. "I'm glad you had her."
And look, here's where they circle back, the note about Melita's father coming back up, wrapping up the question he'd had nicely. Well, not nicely. "It's too bad you didn't get to do it." He offers, taking a step back without thinking, because if he paused to think, the words wouldn't come. "When I worked with my, uh... my dad, one of my jobs was cleaning up after... things like that. Snitches, and all." It feels strange to admit, strange to shift the focus back onto him, but he'd said he was going to make an effort to share more. Maybe he could justify it as a kindness, a distraction from what happened after they had been captured.
NATE
