[He won't lie, the pause has him nervous. Not that he believes Mizu is that callous, but rather that she might be that afraid. That she might think of his ever flapping mouth and decide the risk is too great to bear, and do away with him.
Then she rolls off and nothing more comes of it.
Richie takes a moment on the ground. No hand up, fine, he wouldn't expect it on a good day. Much less what's competing to be the worst day of his life. He comes to his knees and looks around, spying his glasses round the way of Mizu's glance. He fishes them over and puts them on before rising in full, dusting off his slacks.
There's a pensive tension drawing his features lean as he looks at her. Several sentiments dance at the tip of his tongue. I understand. I'll never understand. You deserved better.
You're no monster.
It would paint an ugly swatch over whatever fragile peace they've brokered. He can't think of a single thing to say that would come off congenial. The mood is all gun powder and lit matches, there would be a blowout if he tried.
So, for the time being, Richie just nods. Curt, succinct, over and done with. He doesn't like leaving her like that, but he'll do it.
Except as he turns to go, the mirrors light up around them. Two young boys, laughing at their own jokes. Then one pulls out his father's pistol.
Richie freezes. Back to Mizu, head turned. Transfixed. Eyes wide and face paling.]
no subject
Then she rolls off and nothing more comes of it.
Richie takes a moment on the ground. No hand up, fine, he wouldn't expect it on a good day. Much less what's competing to be the worst day of his life. He comes to his knees and looks around, spying his glasses round the way of Mizu's glance. He fishes them over and puts them on before rising in full, dusting off his slacks.
There's a pensive tension drawing his features lean as he looks at her. Several sentiments dance at the tip of his tongue. I understand. I'll never understand. You deserved better.
You're no monster.
It would paint an ugly swatch over whatever fragile peace they've brokered. He can't think of a single thing to say that would come off congenial. The mood is all gun powder and lit matches, there would be a blowout if he tried.
So, for the time being, Richie just nods. Curt, succinct, over and done with. He doesn't like leaving her like that, but he'll do it.
Except as he turns to go, the mirrors light up around them. Two young boys, laughing at their own jokes. Then one pulls out his father's pistol.
Richie freezes. Back to Mizu, head turned. Transfixed. Eyes wide and face paling.]