[ She'd assumed that conversation was over already and that the first swing of Chuck's hammer would welcome a period of drowned-out silence between the both of them. Which was fine with Mako — she wasn't expecting any more from him — so that he says something at all once a plume of plaster dust settles takes her by surprise enough to stare at him for a long moment.
She could not answer, could let her gaze do the talking. Mako wonders if being together makes Chuck that uncomfortable, that it would wring something out of him when he might otherwise have remained stubbornly silent. ]
Because we're not going to talk about it. [ That's how things were between them, weren't they? Mako straightens, tosses a half-rotted beam into the junk pile and places her hands on her hips. ] Unless we are.
[ It doesn't sound like an offer, but it is one (even if Mako isn't sure we wants to talk about it either). ]
[ the sound that pulls through his teeth isn't a true laugh, but it's more than the rush of breath that usually leaves his mouth. it's sharp, but not biting. mean, but not cruel. chuck has never had the foresight, the intention to leave lasting damage because he exists only in the moment- for everyone except his father.
his head shakes, and a piece of plaster comes down- casting a rush of dust over his hair. in the fragmented light, it's a mockery of a halo. ] I'm the lesser 'a two evils then.
[ Something stirs uncomfortably inside Mako, a feeling that is as familiar as it is unwelcome. Ever since they were young Chuck has had this effect on her — ruffling feathers that she's gone to great lengths to smooth, finding a way in through the seams of her self-control only to make her skin itch underneath her best defenses. Ever since Onibaba Mako Mori has spent every moment of her life trying to contain the fear and the anger unleashed in that single moment; contain it and change it, make it fuel for a more important fire, but whenever she's around Chuck all she wants to do is burn.
She blinks at him once. Of course the one time he wants to talk is the one conversation she doesn't want to have.
If he was more self-aware Mako would think he was doing it on purpose, but she knows Chuck. Why take potshots at unblemished skin when you can swipe at a bruise. ]
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She could not answer, could let her gaze do the talking. Mako wonders if being together makes Chuck that uncomfortable, that it would wring something out of him when he might otherwise have remained stubbornly silent. ]
Because we're not going to talk about it. [ That's how things were between them, weren't they? Mako straightens, tosses a half-rotted beam into the junk pile and places her hands on her hips. ] Unless we are.
[ It doesn't sound like an offer, but it is one (even if Mako isn't sure we wants to talk about it either). ]
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his head shakes, and a piece of plaster comes down- casting a rush of dust over his hair. in the fragmented light, it's a mockery of a halo. ] I'm the lesser 'a two evils then.
'At's new.
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She blinks at him once. Of course the one time he wants to talk is the one conversation she doesn't want to have.
If he was more self-aware Mako would think he was doing it on purpose, but she knows Chuck. Why take potshots at unblemished skin when you can swipe at a bruise. ]
Just swing your hammer, Chuck.