[ Chuck nods at the gloves and Mako holds them out into the space between the both of them. Anyone else and they would be a peace offering, a kind of token, some sort of acknowledgment of the past week and what has happened between them. But for Chuck and Mako — people who have long since stopped extending those sorts of gestures to one another and to the world as a whole — it's simply this: a passing between hands. An object belonging to one becoming an object belonging to another. No further meaning beyond simple practicality.
(Chuck needs gloves. Mako has them. Deal done.)
Her gaze lingers on Chuck's face for a moment longer, eyes skirting the shape of his mouth and the hood of his brow. There would be meaning in that look too if she just allowed it, but she doesn't, just accounts for what is there and what isn't like marking off boxes on a laundry list. ]
How long has it been? [ Since he last slept; since he last ate; since he last spoke to his father or to Raleigh. ]
( v i : d 3 ) action
(Chuck needs gloves. Mako has them. Deal done.)
Her gaze lingers on Chuck's face for a moment longer, eyes skirting the shape of his mouth and the hood of his brow. There would be meaning in that look too if she just allowed it, but she doesn't, just accounts for what is there and what isn't like marking off boxes on a laundry list. ]
How long has it been? [ Since he last slept; since he last ate; since he last spoke to his father or to Raleigh. ]