Pig's responding snort incited in Tillman, a fleeting moment of juvenile amusement. When he chuckled, it was quiet and dry and airy, like dead leaves sliding over pavement in the fall. It was a strange contrast to his growled speaking voice. It felt strange and good and it was over too quickly. A little reminder of how the world had felt before the war. When there was still laughter and music and horseplay and nicknames like Tilly.
He shook his head and pushed his remaining eggs around his plate as he watched Pig. There was a slight crease to his brow as he thought about that last sentence. If Pig wanted to leave, Tillman wouldn't stop him. He simply had to brace himself for resignation, to prepare for the world to fade back to gray.
"My mother would tan my hide if she knew I was wasting food. If you wanted, you could stick around until I got my sense of proportion back." His gaze was steady and blank.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-02-21 07:15 pm (UTC)He shook his head and pushed his remaining eggs around his plate as he watched Pig. There was a slight crease to his brow as he thought about that last sentence. If Pig wanted to leave, Tillman wouldn't stop him. He simply had to brace himself for resignation, to prepare for the world to fade back to gray.
"My mother would tan my hide if she knew I was wasting food. If you wanted, you could stick around until I got my sense of proportion back." His gaze was steady and blank.