[Milliways stables]

[2goodarms]

On the short list of Things Curtis Didn't Expect, "talking helped as much as fighting to ditch his bad mood" ranks right near the top.

...okay, yeah, so did the kissing. And the promise of more, even if that "more" isn't happening tonight. And just -- being around Dejah, watching her smile, listening to the warmth of her voice. It's like she thaws the coldest parts of him; melts the ice with a touch; sets the water moving again. She barely has to do anything except be, and all of a sudden he's feeling better than he has all day.

How the hell did this happen so fast?

He's still dressed for the gym -- undershirt, wrapped hand, and all -- as he makes his way out to the stables. If Edgar's not there, maybe he'll try to re-introduce himself to Nitwit before going back to room 1001. That baby thoat's probably had a pretty weird day.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

A very weird, long, confusing, tiring day.  And she's not the only one.

Which is why Nitwit is lying down in a heap of straw in her paddock and snoring gently ... and Edgar is sitting with his back against her side, eyes closed, at least half asleep himself.

[2goodarms]

Curtis hesitates. Leaning his arm along the top of the stable door, he watches the pair for a moment. The sight's as weirdly endearing as Edgar's earlier attempts to coax Nitwit along; he's not sure if he should disturb it.

Finally, though: "Edgar?"

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar raises his head, awake immediately, blinking up until he spots Curtis.

"Hey," he whispers.

[2goodarms]

He smiles, small and crooked. "Hey."

Curtis lifts his chin to indicate the stable.

"Okay if I come in?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah, sure."  He shifts to sit up straighter, careful not to jostle Nitwit's sleeping bulk.

[2goodarms]

Curtis nudges open the stable door. The hinges squeak once, then squeak louder as he eases it shut. Carefully, he picks his way through the hay and dust to take a seat near Edgar, his back leaning against one of the stable walls.

"So...I'm done being an asshole," he says, wry. "Sorry."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Oh good," Edgar says.

It's sincere, and only a tiny bit sardonic.

[2goodarms]

He quirks his eyebrows in a self-deprecating yeah, I know at the sarcastic note, then rubs his hand over his head.

"How's the new baby doing?" he asks with a glance toward Nitwit.

[hate_gettin_older]

"She's good.  Sleeping.  I put some of that green shite on her scratches, and it's helping."

Reminded: "How's Dejah's hand?"

[2goodarms]

"Better. She can..." He lifts his own hand, wiggles his fingers in demonstration. "Do that now. Fought just fine upstairs."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Good," he says.  "... And that helped, yeah?"

[2goodarms]

That could mean a whole lot of things -- did it help Dejah's hand, did it help Curtis get his shit together -- but the answer's the same either way. Curtis nods, says, "Yeah," and draws his knees up to rest his arm across them.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar nods, starts to say good again, gets interrupted by a massive yawn.

"-- Sorry."

[2goodarms]

Curtis huffs out a tiny breath of laughter.

"I can fuck off if you wanna get some sleep," he says.

[hate_gettin_older]

He hesitates.

"Maybe in a bit?"

[2goodarms]

"Okay." Quiet.

He worries the soft fabric of his pants between thumb and forefinger, watching Nitwit's back rise and fall. A stray, baffling thought -- she should be smaller, nobody's daemon gets that big -- flickers through his mind; Curtis frowns, shakes his head to clear it away without bothering to puzzle out what it might mean.



"So what was Barsoom like?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Fuckin weird, man," he says fervently -- and just a bit more darkly than his earlier cheer. "Monsters and deserts and -- what d'you call it, when there's a huge wind and it, like --" A sweeping gesture, as though pushing a swath of air ahead of his arm. "-- picks up all the sand?"

[2goodarms]

"A sandstorm?"

The frown deepens. "Shit, man."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah. We walked straight out in front of one. Lucky Nitwit found us a cave to hide in." He smooths one hand over one of the little thoat's knees in absent affection. "Course it had a fuckin monster in it, but ..."

[2goodarms]

"Sounds like you took that out pretty easy," he says. "How big was it?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Hey, it wasn't easy," he protests. "And like, about ... maybe two-thirds the size of Nitwit here? Plus a shitload of long suckery arms. Tentacles, like."

[2goodarms]

Curtis wrinkles his nose. More emphatic: "Shit."

No wonder Tars and Dejah were impressed. Curtis kind of is, too.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah."

A pause, and he adds in a lower voice: "I mean, I was super strong because Barsoom's got weird gravity or some shite. No way I coulda taken it here."

[2goodarms]

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Dejah told me that. Said if you're from Earth, you kind of...bounce, too."

He taps his knee, miming a tiny person rocketing into the air.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar nods. "Hard to walk normally till you get the hang of it."

(Didn't they talk about this already? He isn't even sure now.)