punisheye

[punisheye]

"Do you guys think Christ was a boobs man or an ass man?

"This isn't a disrespectful question, by the way. If yer Catholic you believe Christ was fully human, fully divine. To deny that he had sexual temptations implies that he wasn't fully human, makin' you a blasphemer.

"(Punishable by excommunication for most of history.)

"Now answer:

Boobs. Or ass."

[punisheye]

[punisheye]

"It's..."

His expression is something complicated, shifting from sad to frustrated to confused to exhausted and then some sort of mix of all of those at once. Wolfwood doesn't know what to do, or say, and he just feels a little bit sick.

Of course Stamps wouldn't want to talk to him about this.

"...I... you..."

There had been a time where he cried at his dinner table, where Wolfwood had wrapped an arm around his shoulders in an attempt at comfort. A time on the couch, Wolfwood healing from a battle with himself, crumbling when his friend forgave him. Small glimpses of vulnerability shown to one another. And now.

He just falls silent again, staring at Vash, wishing he had the heart to yell because it'd be easier than this.

...But he looks away eventually, down at the ground.

"Sof-tie. Sooof-tie." Vash gives the singsong echo a couple of tries as his fingers playfully poke at the hand that's stilled on top of his head. When that doesn't work, he frowns, confused.

Gently, he lifts that hand away and takes a few steps back. There's a bit of subconscious dread relieved for the distance, in acting like this while having dangerously been in hugging range.

"Umm, Wolfwood? You good, buddy? Didn't poke you too hard, did I?" Another laugh, but he's clearly more nervous now, flightier for both his own feelings and the comfort being offered for them. "I was just playin' around."

[punisheye]

"Okay, okay," he grumbles against Vash's mouth, giving his nose a little nibble after. He still wants to shower. Vash has to deal with that. Not like it'll take him very long. Wolfwood does linger a few moments later with his hands on Vash's waist to press a few kisses against his neck before he makes himself pull away and head upstairs.

One shower later, he's changed into more comfortable clothes and shoved his swim shorts into a bag. Wolfwood trots downstairs to meet with his husband again.

"You gonna surprise me?" He asks as he goes to tug his boots on—the ones he wears outside of work. "Or can I know now?"

★ --;; Vash flicks his hands in the sink a few times before twisting around and meeting Wolfwood halfway between the door and the kitchen. Ignoring any huffs and gripes about being smelly, he wraps his arms around his husband's waist and gives him a peck on the mouth. They've definitely smelled worse, anyway.

"Wear your swim shorts? Or bring 'em with you. We'll head over to Golden. Got somethin' cool to show you."

[punisheye]

Wolfwood doesn't offer much of his own input as Tenna speaks. He just lets him spill it all out, listens quietly, his now-empty hands folding in his lap and his legs stretching out before him, ankles crossed. He keeps his head angled towards the other, dark eyes fixed on him.

It's... interesting to hear all of this about a guy he barely knew, some whole other side of him he had no idea about, and he figures there must have been something about him before that charmed someone like Tenna. They meant a lot to each other. Okay. Went through a lot. Went insane. Crawled through the dirt and trash. Mourned. Wept.

Maybe he should be a little nicer to that Spamton guy. Maybe. If only for Tenna's sake.

That final question makes his mouth quirk.

"Yeah," he says. "We would be."

There is no hesitancy, no uncertainty in his voice. It's clear, firm, sure, final.

"I followed him all over the world," he says. "We hated each other sometimes. Other times, we were all right. I betrayed him. Then I saved him. He forgave me. Then I left. Ran away.

"I ran away, n'he found me."

He caught him when he fell, felt his heart stutter and skip and stop and start up again. Wolfwood had heard his breath hitch with his face in his shoulder, the firm hand on his back. He felt. Everything.

"It didn't matter what happened. We weren't gettin' rid of each other. You can't just get rid of the guy that changed ya so much, even if you try."

Wolfwood's thumb rubs over his other hand.

"He was my friend before anythin' else."

And then he buried me.

"...You don't gotta worry so much 'bout me, by the way. I made peace with it all a long time ago."

...well, he must not be furious if he scooped him up off the ground like that. Wolfwood was certainly the tallest person to have done so... not that Tenna is necessarily paying attention to the scenery at the moment. He's still curled up and crying when the man brings him to his face; his voice is loud and clear.

If he wasn't angry with him, then why did he just skip over it? Did the other's mortality simply not... bother him? Did he make peace with it?

It, takes a few minutes for the television to stop crying. There was no sense in communicating like this; there's no way Wolfwood could hear him like this. Maybe when Tenna was younger, and his hardware wasn't as worn, he could have spoken a bit clearer...

The gentle tap to the head makes him look up at his friend, face no longer obscured by static. His head leans into that touch as a gesture of comfort for a few moments before he taps it, and points at the bench. When he's placed down on it, he seems to take a deep 'breath', and grows as he exhales.

"...Thanks." ... "I've had a lot of people leave in my time, all for different reasons. We had a close family friend disappear when the kids were barely ten--a girl Azzy's age. Her mom stopped coming over after that. The fighting between the kids' parents didn't encourage Noelle to stay over either; Azzy and Kris would go to her house. Tori eventually kicked Asgore out after the worst fight. When they unplugged me, Azzy went of to college; I had no idea where he'd gone. Spamton left before we were about to tie the knot--I told you that already. And during the fiasco that happened in the studio, my employees had enough and all left, too. I... don't blame them for that one. Treated everyone pretty awfully by that point. So the thought of someone else I care about who might leave the city to a fate like that, I..."

He shakes his head.

"You're still right. We're both still here. And you get back up and keep going. In... theory."

...He's too tired to keep his screen on; that took a lot out of him.

"Trust me. I'd like to heal and move on. I'd like him to move on, too. I think he's a little more successful with that than I am--he's got someone else now, even if that Lightner isn't in the city. But it's..." ... "It's hard, trying to pick up the pieces of the bridge he tried to burn between us. Every piece I try to put back together burns like an ember. And everything I try to get a grip on hurts all over again."

He looks back from the darkening sky to the other.

"...He broke his own mind trying to save me. He left because someone told him my fate. He fell lower than rock bottom to salvage a way to change whatever prediction he saw. The man I loved went through a hell I couldn't even imagine, and all this time, I had... no idea. I was in the dark--literally, there was nothing I could do to look for him more than I had. I thought he hated me. And I... couldn't have been more wrong."

...He feels his screen flicker again. He can't 'cry'; it's not something this body was capable of. But it feels that way.

"And now we're both here, and we both understand. We could have picked up those burning pieces in scarred hands together. But I... can't do that to him. If that someone ever returns to this city, I don't... think I'd have the heart to shatter someone else's. Another cosmic twist in the way of us."

...

"I don't... know what to do about it all. Despite everything, I don't want to hurt him. And I don't think he'd ever truly want to hurt me either. You don't know how relived he was to know I understood, like some... chain that held him finally shattered." ... "You and Vash persevered together, right? You're both married and happy. Have your own home, and a life here. But if things were different, would you... still be friends?"

[punisheye]

"Woah, hey."

Okay, maybe not the best thing to say. He's never been great at comfort in the form of words... hell, it's still a semi-recent thing that he's fine with physical comfort as an adult. A lot of times he just makes things worse, and now he sure as hell did. Let his own personal feelings cloud his judgment there.

Tenna shrinks, shrinks, shrinks, and Wolfwood bends over and... gently scoops him up in his palms.

He's not furious, not at all. Part of him doesn't really understand—wouldn't anyone be happy to be alive even if they were supposedly meant to die? But there's more to it he just doesn't get. He wasn't there. There's no way he could understand.

Things aren't that black and white, someone very dear to him taught him that.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, holding Tenna up to face-level. "It, uh. It does matter. A lot."

Wolfwood quickly scouts out a bench he can sit down on, keeping Tenna held cupped in both palms. He's a little worried about accidentally dropping him, or squishing him or something. He'd never seen him get this tiny.

"Sorry," he says. "It hurts, don't it? Everything. I get it.

"You went through a lot. Both of ya. Me n'Vash, we also dealt with some shit together. That kinda thing either brings folks together or tears 'em apart. No tellin' what it'll be 'til it happens."

He works his jaw.

"I don't know exactly what happened to ya... or him. I don't even know him that much..." Outside of the little fucker rummaging through the garden. "But I think if someone like me gets ta heal, so can you. Both of ya."

Wolfwood maneuvers Tenna into one palm and gently, feather-light, taps him on the head with one finger.

"You can be sad, you can scream, you can cry. Whatever you gotta do. Then you get right back up n'keep goin' stronger than before."

Is this a good pep talk? Jeez, he sure hopes so.

"You deserve ta eat n'laugh, too."

He's already trying his best to keep it together. He's not supposed to be doing this; his job is to make sure the Lightners are away from their problems for a bit. Distraction and entertainment; that's what he's made for. Not... this.

Wolfwood's admission makes him freeze entirely, though, and he sharply snaps out of himself to look at the other in horror. Ice runs through his circuitry, and his screen sputters for a moment.

"Two... walking..."

...oh no. No, no no no, not him...

But Wolfwood was so... That man was so extraordinarily kind. There were people who loved him dearly--he had a partner here, didn't he? At the end of the day, Tenna knew he was just a television; despite his own feelings on it, he knew the only person who would probably know he was 'gone' was Kris.

But this man had a life in the light, cut short in a different way. And here Tenna was, freaked out about almost not making it. An object; not a person.

"I..."

This was the wrong person to talk to. This was the wrong choice.

"I'm--sorry. I'm so sorry."

What... else could he even say?

"N-no, that's not... I'm, glad I'm here. They didn't... leave me back there, like, they were supposed to. I..." ... "It's not..." ... "He lost his mind trying to, to, to find a way to--"

...he can't do it. Something in him rattles as his body starts to shake.

"--Dammit why the hell are we talking about something like that right now!? Why are we still talking about me? What does that matter? Here I am, rattling on, about something I didn't even know you'd--I'm, you're here, I'm happy you're here, it--you're right! Why should it matter!"

That hand covers his face again, and his shoulders heave with a sob. And with each, he seemed to shrink further and further, until he barely cleared the man's ankle in height. Static crackles around his jacket as he wept into his palms, sound fading into the concrete beneath them.

First Chara, now Wolfwood.

And here he was, still standing.

God, that man must be furious. And he wouldn't blame him.

[punisheye]

Nightow's Wolfwood art redraw... you know the one

[punisheye]

Spamton...? Isn't that the...

Okay, not important. Maybe. Is that ugly little mole that eats their goddamn tulip bulbs really this guy's ex? No, not important! Tenna's still talking, he needs to give him all his attention. Wolfwood blinks a few times.

He's not sure if he's really following, he doesn't know what The Knight is. Who it is. Obviously nothing good. But he still listens.

So Tenna's supposed to be dead, huh. That makes two of them.

"Huh... now we got two dead men walkin'," Wolfwood says, maybe a little too casually. He's never talked about his own death with anyone but... well, he can count the amount on one hand, and even then it's never been in depth.

This isn't about him, though.

"You survived though, right? So obviously whatever the hell he saw wasn't right." Wolfwood digs into his pocket to fish out a small container of toothpicks. He sticks one in his mouth to chew on idly. "Yer alive, n'he was wrong. Jeez, he just walked out on ya without sayin' shit?"

Wolfwood keeps walking at a steady pace. The sun is dipping lower and lower. Orange mixes with deep violet. Stars always show in the skies here, even with the lights from the city.

"He left n'you lived n'now yer here still grievin' over him and wonderin' if it was some fluke that yer still standin' at all. Aren't ya happy to be alive?"

He'd give anything to be alive again. Not just here, on this island, but also...

A pause, and then, slowly, "Hell, are ya even over him?"

"Nobody I'd want to trouble with it." He sighs, idly kicking a rock. The sun is a bit too bright for him; the screen turns off for the time being. Likely a very odd sight for that senior and her beloved pup!

"...It'd be nice if it did though, didn't it."

He has to admire Wolfwood's determination to listen, though.

"I..." ... "Where do I even begin with it? We were together, then we weren't. And when it happened, I thought he just got cold feet and left me--he never liked the 'L' word, never used 'love'. We were supposed to enter a... long-term contract. Thought about getting him a ring for it and everything. But he picked up that phone call, and... that was it. Spamton lost every small ounce of colour in his face, and ran out the door." ... "Never came back. I wish that was all it was; an old flame getting cold feet. Afraid of commitment. I thought he just started to hate me, for whatever reason. And I--well, I won't lie, I wanted to drag that little @#$%er back to the studio and demand to know what the hell happened there."

That blank screen focuses more on the sidewalk than the sunset. Pretty as they were, he can't seem to look at it right now.

"I asked him about it all here. Why he left. Why he looked like that now. And I think he, tried to tell me. But whatever broke his mind like it did wouldn't let him. I kept figuring it out piece by piece, until he could find a way to..."

The sigh that escapes him is tired. Heavy. Pained.

"It was way worse than I thought. It's, it's not just him, it's what he knew. What he foresaw, or what someone told him, I..."

...He keeps trying to clam up. To make a joke, to laugh, to diffuse the whole thing as some silly quarrel. But his hands begin to shake when he lifts them; now that it's out there he can't stop it.

"He left because he didn't want to commit to a dead man. And if it weren't for Susie, he'd... be right. I..."

The snowscape still plays through his fingers. The last image he saw before losing consciousness on the frozen ground.

"And if I, if I'm having a hard time with it, I can't... even begin to imagine what he's been dealing with. All those years I was unplugged and couldn't do anything, he was there suffering in the garbage. Everything he did to try and prevent whatever was going to happen to me, he saw it all happen anyway. He was there when The Knight..." ... "He told me I wasn't supposed to survive that. Like it was some kind of fluke in whatever he believed. Hell, as far as I know, he's from a time where I didn't..."

[punisheye]

The door shuts behind them with a click. The lock turns, and then Wolfwood starts them down the sidewalk. It's in the general direction of the cafe, so a route he's intimately familiar with. There's a park this way, too.

"Well, who else is gonna listen to ya drone on about yer ex?" It sounds mean, but... well, he can't imagine a lot of folks are willing. Even Wolfwood probably would've let it go had Tenna not walked into his house all small(ish) and gloomy.

But he's not about to let a guest leave unhappy.

Besides, he knows how it is to have so much shit pent up, threatening to boil over—or explode. Maybe Tenna just needs a listening ear.

"Maybe I can't help, but you at least got someone to talk to about it."

The setting sun burns bright on the horizon, shining across spiral cliff faces and casting him in its glow. An elderly woman with a tiny dog sits in a rocking chair on her porch and waves at him, and he waves back; he helps clean up her lawn when she needs it. She watches Tenna curiously, but Wolfwood keeps it moving.

"Hopin' it'll go away never works, though. Trust me."

He's not... entirely correct. Tenna was perfectly capable of bending the truth to suit his needs. Hard to be in show business without learning how to fake a smile and stay pleasant.

But in matters of the heart...

"...That's, uh. Well? I'll take a compliment where I can get it, right?"

His smile is shaking... And when he checks upstairs, just to make sure neither of them were listening, he seems to relent. He doesn't seem to flinch at the other; contrary to that, he follows him out the door in silence. He's not getting out of it.

One foot hesitantly steps out the door, other following shortly behind it.

..................

"...Last chance to back out of this, pal. If you really want to listen to me drone on about my ex like a late-night informercial, hey--that's your choice."

His stride matches Wolfwood's; as does his height.

"I didn't..." ... "I don't think anyone can really help with it all anyway. Hell, there's hardly anything I can do about it but just... hope it goes away and things go back to normal again."

If he even knew what 'normal' was here.

[punisheye]

Whatever's going on here, he doesn't know if it's worth all the posturing. Wolfwood inhales through his nose, then steps around the young man to create a barrier between him and this massive stranger with is own body. He doesn't know who this guy is, he doesn't know how strong he might be, but that doesn't really matter right now.

...But something about him, the way he carries himself, the cold and unwavering way he speaks brings back unpleasant memories. It's all-too familiar.

"You oughta turn around," he replies, voice level. "He's just a dumb kid."

Wolfwood's keenly aware of the boy still trembling behind his legs. He thinks he should shift gears, speak hunter-to-hunter.

"Not worth the blood," Wolfwood states. Talking like this makes his skin crawl, but it's practiced. He's had to do it plenty of times. "You can find somethin' more excitin' somewhere else. A real challenge, not some small fry. Hey, kid—"

The boy stiffens up behind him.

"Whatever ya did, or whatever ya took, I don't care—give that shit back."

the only reason to abandon one prey is the prospect of a second that promises better sport. unfortunately, the man in shades that appears through a door in the middle of their face-off is only about as exciting as his height—

—which falls short before his own.

sharp senses catch on to the smell of sugar—both from the man himself, and the contents of the closed door behind him. something rich and invitingly nutty mixes with the first scent, and under it all lies a persistent note of smoke—not of cannon fire, but reminiscent of the tobacco so favored by the populace of the Far East—albeit deeper and stronger.

humans did ever try to tame primal impulses with the sickeningly sweet.

while zenos stares unblinking, the boy comes to his senses and all but bolts for wolfwood, making a terrific clang as he accidentally knocks past the trashcans. he ends up half-throwing himself at the taller-but-not-tallest man's feet, body trembling in response.

"P-please, you gotta help me—!"

for his part, zenos simply states the facts:

"He is reaping the consequences of his own choices."

[punisheye]

Despite, or maybe because of, everything that's been thrown at them, they work.

It's peace earned through gunfire, loss, love, and grief. They chip at each other's armor, force the other to bare the soft meat beneath their shells, reckon with their flaws (of which there are many) to bring about a better future. To grow together, to learn together, to face every day together, no matter what it brings.

Vash cries and Wolfwood's hands come up to his cheeks. How often had he seen Vash cry before this city? He'd always been reserved about his tears, preferring to bite them back, hide them away, thinking he had no right to them. Wolfwood had been... the same. What right had he to weep?

Here, Vash's expression is vulnerable and his tears fall freely.

"You..." Wolfwood inhales sharply, then his hands move from Vash's face to his styled hair to aggressively muss it up under his hands. "Don't be stupid...!"

He dives in to plant a kiss to Vash's lips, holds it there, cradles his neck delicately. Wolfwood's own stubborn tears drip from his eyelashes onto their cheeks. All he wants is to be close, closer, hoping Vash can feel that deep, aching, burning love like this, without words.

Both hands drop to Vash's waist, where he winds his arms around him tightly to pull him flush against him. Wolfwood breaks the kiss to drop his head against Vash's shoulder. A tiny wet spot is forming in his husband's shirt. Wolfwood grumbles.

"I married you, dumbass, you think yer not already everythin' I see n'more?" Turning his head, he presses a little kiss to the side of Vash's neck. He breathes in the smell of him, that familiar soap and shampoo and their laundry detergent, topsoil and Wolfwood's cologne that he keeps stealing. "C'mon, neither of us are gonna be perfect angels. It's better like that."

Wolfwood gives a little smile against Vash's skin, a small amused huff. A tiny gesture that shows that no, Vash didn't go and ruin the moment.

"I love you. Even when yer stubborn, gloomy, stupid, bratty, n'mean. Even when ya leave yer socks on the floor or don't put yer dishes in the dishwasher or forget to clean the litterbox when it's yer turn or get crumbs in the bed."

He's not one to wax poetic, but... "'Cus yer also brave, n'kind; yer gentle, too goddamn compassionate for yer own good, kids love ya, so do animals. You have a nice laugh n'smile n'yer big ears are cute n'yer eyes sparkle when ya talk about the things you love n'I always listen even if I don't get it. You play guitar real nice n'you always remember to refill the bird feeders n'you grow really good tomatoes in the garden. It's nice t'have real homegrown tomatoes, y'know."

Wolfwood closes his eyes.

"You believed in me when I couldn't even believe in myself. I'd follow ya all across the world again if I had to."

★ --;; Vash's eyes sting, well up, spill over well before Wolfwood is done with his piece, though it really shouldn't come as a surprise to either one of them. He'd done a fairly good job at keeping himself together at first-- though it's debatable if that had lasted much more than a few seconds.

"Oh," he says, and between the look on Wolfwood's face, warm and open and fragile in a way hard-learned and hard-won, and the sound finally cracking through the tightness in his throat, the dam breaks completely. So much for keeping up any sort off appearance-- not that he'd ever been one for that, anyway.

Because these days, he's hardly deserving of that sort of praise. The more he's thought about it, the more he's sure of it-- that all he's done is continue to hurt the people around him with his decisions, his actions-- not the least of which being Wolfwood himself.

"Nick," he sniffs. "You were-- were never that guy, not- not really. There's nothin' to thank me for. Don't you get it?" He could see that from day one, from a mile away. Fear and anger and desperation-- they could do things to any man. But that didn't make them who they were, didn't change what was truly inside of them. Wolfwood had always been good.

Too good for him, he often feels. He's even gone and ruined what should have been a romantic moment, one Wolfwood had clearly spent time thinking about. "I've-- I've ben terrible to you," Vash hiccups. Him and everyone else, it seems. "And you go and have all this ready for me, I--"

I don't deserve all this.

One hand finally comes up to swipe at his cheek as he sniffs and hiccups. "I-- I wanna be better." And he means it, with an ache deep in his chest, one that he hopes will stay there, will do anything to keep its place against the horrible gnawing that's lived in him for so long, that's dug its claws and teeth into his marrow.

"Wanna-- wanna be what you see."

[punisheye]

"Hey. Stay right here."

His voice is firm. Wolfwood's hand catches Tenna's elbow before he can move past him, but the grip isn't tight. There's no creak of old metal under his fingers. It's just enough to stop him, but Tenna could easily pull away if he wanted to.

"Yer a pretty shitty liar. Probably one a' the worst," he says bluntly, but not meanly. "And I've met a lot of shitty liars."

Himself included. Something about stones and glass houses.

Wolfwood glances past the kitchen, to the back door he's already drawn the curtains over in preparation for sunset. Then he looks back at Tenna, mouth pressed into a tight line.

"How about," he begins slowly, releasing his hold on Tenna's arm, "me n'you go on a walk."

The kids will be asleep for a while yet, up until they get hungry, and a walk around the neighborhood won't take too long. Wolfwood doesn't really give Tenna much of a choice because he's already walking over to the door, getting his shoes on, and grabbing his keys.

The door opens and Wolfwood says, "Right behind ya."

"...Well, you did say confess something. Just tellin' a guy what he wants to hear."

To be fair, it's a cute little purple blossom. But the man's inner monologue isn't wrong; Tenna didn't seem to be looking at him.

Just think of something happy. Saturday morning cartoons, watching soaps with the Weather Duo, being lucky he caught the last half of Triassic Forest when it was on air--he hadn't seen that one in a while!

It's, strained. But he seems to grow to about Wolfwood's height, flashing a smile.

"There, see? Problem solved! Not that you'd have a problem reaching anything in your own house, right?"

Musicals. Touching a real river for the first time. Actually seeing the stars. Seeing Kris and Susie trying that spicy potato chip challenge on 'hard mode'. See? He could do this. Just had to follow Spamton's old advice before he had to go on set before--how to still act Big when he didn't feel like it.

...

...It was him that told him that, wasn't it.

When he shrinks again, it's less like a deflated balloon, and more like suddenly turning on something in a vacuum chamber--startlingly fast.

"........."

Nevermind. This wasn't working. Time to exit stage left.

"...W-well. Um. I, should get going. If I keep staying out late, the kids are going to ground me instead--can you believe that?"

Time to go.

Time to go, time to go, time to go, time to go.

[punisheye]

"It's father," he responds blandly. Why did he do this again? Someone had come to him saying they knew a guy that needed a priest, and Wolfwood had figured fuck it, why not.

Now he's kind of regretting it.

There's a thin screen between them that doesn't do much to conceal their faces from one another; it's a poor excuse for a confessional. Wolfwood digs his pinky into his ear.

He clears his throat, "Tell me yer sins then, my child."

Wow, he'd rather be doing literally anything else right now. He's not even getting paid for this shit.

@punisheye

"Ahem....been a while since i done this. Let's see.....forgive me daddy for i have sinned. It's been.....three years, two month and a day since my last confession. I recently done something i'm not proud of for a good reason."

Smug little bastard know the right word. He just making a goof for a joke.

The setting.....is unconventional.

The man is a priest (?)

Still Huey ask around and this is the closet thing they got.....a father who smoke, drinks and shoot guns.........eh. Could be worse.

Could been a angel. Could be Aury or Eidan....or Dar.

[punisheye]

<- Guy who is going to go kiss his husband Right Now.

[punisheye]

home from otakon! so activity will resume soon

i do want to note i'll also be moving in less than 2 months and then immediately getting top surgery so things may be very inconsistent until like. november possibly

[punisheye]

His chin tips further down as the other shrinks more. It still feels weird to be looking down, and the TV is looking anywhere but him right now (he thinks; lack of eyes makes it hard to tell).

Tenna is lying. Anyone would be able to tell you that. Maybe not about the flower thing, but about what's bothering him.

Wolfwood works his jaw.

It's not like he'd pressure the guy to say anything; he's pretty reticent himself, but he doesn't know if keeping stuff bottled up is going to do Tenna any good.

(He should take his own advice. Whatever.)

"C'mon now," is all he says, voice flat, unconvinced, unimpressed.

Urk--

"...Well, hard to come in here with the usual energy when the kids are falling asleep, right? I can read a room, y'know!"

That logic doesn't work so well when he shrinks another few inches at the question, does it, Tenna.

"I, uh, never did get the chance to get to that church in town! This is the only light world I've been able to move around in. Couldn't begin to tell you anything I'd need to--"

💡

"Ah, shucks, you got me. I confess! I brought one of your flowers back home to the townhouse--just a little one! Really brightens the room, though!"

[punisheye]

Uh...

Boy, they both have been hollering and fussing a lot lately.

"Okay, y'all gotta talk one at a time."

He rubs his forehead.

"Is it time t'schedule a doctor appointment?"