[ Carver watches him close, marking how the other man moves, how he breathes. Taking the information and tucking it away for later. It's hard to know what details will become relevant, what he'll need to utilize when the time comes, and so he marks them all. God doesn't love the lazy, or the slow. God's love requires work and Carver will not fail the test that's surely taking form in front of them.
Not this one. ]
I was bleeding out, [ he says, rather blandly. ] Had a concussion, too. And now I don't.
[ Now, there's barely a mark on him. A little miracle. Or someone's trick. ]
no subject
Not this one. ]
I was bleeding out, [ he says, rather blandly. ] Had a concussion, too. And now I don't.
[ Now, there's barely a mark on him. A little miracle. Or someone's trick. ]
Neat little trick.