[ He smiles with his teeth, the way animals do, the way the mask hooked to his belt smiles. Sometimes, it's good to mirror, to remember an abstract concept and school your face into a new shape to match it. He had to practice that a lot as a young corporal. Shaw was always on him for showing too much emotion. The only useful thing for a soldier to show on their face, she used to say, with no small amount of bitterness, is anger, or nothing at all. Sergeant Shaw always knew best. It's not her fault he didn't listen.
No, Carver thinks. That's all on him. ]
Is that what we're doing?
[ Small talk. Maybe this really is a dream. Or Hell. That's okay, Carver thinks. Sometimes, he sees ghosts in his corners. Sometimes, he hears their voices. Is this really so different? ]
Small talk.
[ It comes out in a drawl, the syllables pulled apart like taffy. Carver spreads his hands out wide, motion to draw the eye because if a stranger's watching his hands, then by God they aren't watching the rest of him. And he might need to close the distance between them fast. He might just need to bash this man's head into the wall and beat his skull in with his sap gloves.
Maybe.
Hard to say. But this is how it generally goes, isn't it? Everyone's an enemy now, everyone but the chosen, and maybe this isn't a dream but it feels like penance for his sins; chief among them that he didn't kill Dixon before it all went wrong. ]
no subject
No, Carver thinks. That's all on him. ]
Is that what we're doing?
[ Small talk. Maybe this really is a dream. Or Hell. That's okay, Carver thinks. Sometimes, he sees ghosts in his corners. Sometimes, he hears their voices. Is this really so different? ]
Small talk.
[ It comes out in a drawl, the syllables pulled apart like taffy. Carver spreads his hands out wide, motion to draw the eye because if a stranger's watching his hands, then by God they aren't watching the rest of him. And he might need to close the distance between them fast. He might just need to bash this man's head into the wall and beat his skull in with his sap gloves.
Maybe.
Hard to say. But this is how it generally goes, isn't it? Everyone's an enemy now, everyone but the chosen, and maybe this isn't a dream but it feels like penance for his sins; chief among them that he didn't kill Dixon before it all went wrong. ]