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[throughbamboo]

catch-all/overflow

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[doggonemad]

Bet ya'd know.

[ glances over.

. . .

sighs and closes the distance himself. ]

[throughbamboo]

Mhm. 'M slow, gotta control the pace ta suit me.

[oh. Well, that's better.

He tilts his head to look at him]

[doggonemad]

[ Nue's on his left side, so he can't really see that. but he probably feels it. ]

So we gotta control the pace with that fucko.

[throughbamboo]

Yeah. Play more defense, learn how he moves, shit like that. 'Show I fight all you quick lil' shits.

[. . . he reaches over to catch his sleeve, giving it a little tug before letting go]

Y'all right?

[doggonemad]

[ turns his head a little to look over at him. ]

Can't even be mad at anyone, 'cept for fuckin' Jazz.

[throughbamboo]

He did that to Cygnus?

[doggonemad]

Mmhmm. 'pparently, they didn't hafta go so hard when it happened.

[throughbamboo]

Fuckin' bullshit.

[christ. He's mad, but he'll wait until he can go take it out on something later]

[doggonemad]

So many people died, too. Like it was fuckin' nothin'.

[ quietly considers for a moment.

then slides his hand over, reaching for Nue's.

he's not wearing gloves. ]

[throughbamboo]

It always get that bad?

[ah . . . he takes his hand, fingers curling around it and squeezing]

[doggonemad]

Not always. Not that bad, not with all the death an' shit.

[ curls his fingers, keeping his expression neutral. ]

[throughbamboo]

Mmm. Knew ya said it could get bad, but this ain't what I expected.

[it's a warm, firm grip. After a moment, his thumb rubs along the outside of his hand]

[doggonemad]

Surprise~.

[ he relaxes somewhat at the touch. ]

. . . I need ta get over my own shit.

[throughbamboo]

Shitty surprise.

[he keeps doing it, slow and steady]

. . . gotta work through it, not get over it.

[doggonemad]

Fuck. All I wanna do right now is close that fuckin' distance, but my stupid idiot shitty-ass brain keeps screamin' at me. Fuckin' sucks.

[throughbamboo]

[god. He pauses to squeezes his hand, then continues]

Yeah, fuckin' sucks a lot.

Wish I knew how ta make it quiet down for ya, bro.

[doggonemad]

Maybe I need ta take a motorcycle to the head again or somethin'.

[throughbamboo]

All that'll do is make ya an even bigger dumbass.

Won't do anythin' for this.

[doggonemad]

. . .

Ughhhhhhh.

[throughbamboo]

[he squeezes his hand, then seems to pause, considering.

Then he lifts their hands so he can kiss the back of Hannya's]

Don't stop me from wantin' to. It'll just take time.

1/2

[doggonemad]

[ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME ]

[doggonemad]

Okay. Okay.

[ he shifts his position so he's facing him, although he keeps holding his hand. ]

Fuck. Fuck this. We're workin' through this. Fuck. [ runs his free hand through his hair. ] We set ground rules. Communicate an' shit.

[throughbamboo]

[he looks a bit surprised, but he shifts to better face him, too]

Bro, take a breath.

But 'course, whatever rules ya set, I'll follow 'em.

1/2

[doggonemad]

Fuck these fuckin' rituals, I don't wanna die without—

[doggonemad]

[ okay. deep breaths. whew. ]

I'm good. M'cool.

[ deep. breaths. ]

. . . rule number one: neck's off limits. 'Specially the back of it.