[ 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. ]
Long enough. [ it's as much an answer as it isn't an answer at all. it gets the point across all the same. if mori's going to try to come in close, chuck's giving her a warning shot. as far as he can wager, she's sidestepping just as much and just as wide as he is, and chuck has no intention of dragging his boots in until he's good and ready. (that much, on the other hand, has always been a matter of speculation. chuck sulks too long and nurses his pride because he has nothing else to nurse and enough rope to hang himself. he comes charging back in when he's called or not at all- he just kicks the door off it's hinges on the way as if it'll make the choice more his own.)
chuck pushes off the wall, pushes into motion, so they can distance themselves from the entire conversation, the facsimile of exchanges they'd had as children. (there are some things you can't go back to) his gait, however purposeful, is a half beat slower all the same. a wordless accommodation for mori's injury. ]
[ Chuck doesn't make a big deal about Mako's injury, simply adjusts accordingly as if equilibrium was something they were capable of, even though it isn't. He doesn't draw attention to it, doesn't mention or ask or even give her side a lingering glance. (And that's because, between the both of them they could teach a master class on self-denial as self-realization but Chuck, at the end of the day, has always been better than Mako at compartmentalizing based on the broadest of strokes.)
Even though he slows his gait to match hers, she immediately tries to pick up the pace of her own. Not enough to manage a normal stride but enough for the effort to be seen for what it is: a compromise and an unwillingness to hinder the other members of the team with her own failings.
There's a spare pair of gloves tucked in the back of Mako's slacks, she pulls them free and holds then in her own hands, the other pair having been given to Chuck in the moment before. She glances sideways at him. ]
[ chuck tugs them on half to have something to do. a place to turn his attention, something tangible (safe, neutral) to focus on. it's always been in his nature to turn outward- avoid introspection at every possible turn, and this isn't any different. chuck won't let it be any different. ]
[ There's a moment when Mako simply looks over at Chuck and glares at him, glares as if he's broken some cardinal rule to the limits of the conversation. Not that Mako should be surprised, that was what Chuck did after all. He look the carefully constructed confines of things and then proceeded to unapologetically break them down, one by one by one.
[ the divide comes in the lessons they've been taught. words about propriety and decorum and discretion. where mori learned respect, chuck chose brashness. avoiding me? she fires back, and while chuck's gaze cuts sharply to her features (it isn't like her, to cut to the chase) he doesn't flinch from the accusation. ]
[ They glare at one another for a moment, their behavior teetering between angry children and a couple of brawlers about to break out into a fistfight. Chuck has always had that effect on Mako, even when they were still young. Over the years she'd learned how to curb the impulse, how to take that frustration and turn it into focus for other things, but the previous week still lingers, running her ragged and making her tired. ]
You'll get over it, [ she says and then moves past to reach for a large bit of debris just beyond him. ]
[ chuck sets himself to the first available task- one that will expend enough energy that it'll feel like hitting something, one that puts him out of arm's reach, and one that keeps him in earshot. it isn't really a wall that stares back at him so much as the remains of one. weathered by the elements as much as by age. chuck smashes it's fractured surface on a handful of times with the blunt end of his hammer, and starts pulling it down by hand. whatever it might mean that he and mori spend their spare time comfortable in a city of rubble (in the ruins of what was) chuck resolutely declines to ask. ]
[ 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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(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 pushes off the wall, pushes into motion, so they can distance themselves from the entire conversation, the facsimile of exchanges they'd had as children. (there are some things you can't go back to) his gait, however purposeful, is a half beat slower all the same. a wordless accommodation for mori's injury. ]
Should find you a wheelbarrow.
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Even though he slows his gait to match hers, she immediately tries to pick up the pace of her own. Not enough to manage a normal stride but enough for the effort to be seen for what it is: a compromise and an unwillingness to hinder the other members of the team with her own failings.
There's a spare pair of gloves tucked in the back of Mako's slacks, she pulls them free and holds then in her own hands, the other pair having been given to Chuck in the moment before. She glances sideways at him. ]
We'd be better of building a wheelbarrow.
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Avoiding Becket?
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He asks about Becket. She returns the favor. ]
Avoiding me?
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Not well 'nough.
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You'll get over it, [ she says and then moves past to reach for a large bit of debris just beyond him. ]
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Why aren't you avoiding me.
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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.