"What's Thursday" he asks--no jk. He casts his mind back, struggling to break past his extreme otome emotions. Right... the ship. Yes. He knows Dahut from the ship. And Rosa... she's home, isn't she? Safe? So this is...
He glances at the others with them. But in thinking of them--]
[OUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER PROTECTED BY SUGAR GLASS also the way this is happening a day after HER-MES lingeriegate
Dahut trails off, and Luke knows what he meant. He does. His mind is settling, kind of--doing what it must to keep Luke from going catatonic with grief and shock. But the lack of conviction, especially from Dahut, casts doubt over his thoughts.
They've spent so long together, after all. They've learned how to communicate, in a way--when to be honest, even if they occupy opposite sides of the spectrum of hope. For Dahut, so confident and often optimistic, to be this unwilling to answer him... he doesn't know, does he? They have no proof that it was them, for real. But they have no proof it wasn't.
Luke squeezes his eyes shut, feeling them burn with gathering tears.]
[NOT THE SUGAR GLASS AGAIN. MY GOD IT DOES THOUGH fucking help. We really have to live with the whiplash.
Anyway Dahut just watches as Luke shuts his eyes and all he wants to do in this moment is go over to him and give him a hug and hold his stupid little hands and let him know that everything will be fine because it always is, no matter how bad things get, but he can't summon that certainty up for himself let alone others, and he's just TRAPPED HERE USELESSLY anyway.
So instead, so softly that it's hard to hear:] Sorry...
[It's hard to hear, but fortunately, Luke's entire being is attuned to anything he's done to make people unhappy, so of course he picks up on it. The guilt is a well-worn friend, and it's enough to make him drag in a shaky breath, forcing away the images of the beloved crewmates they'd condemned.
Compartmentalize. Be professional. Focus.]
Don't be. [Dahut never asked for this. Luke is the one who couldn't protect him.] Are you hurt right now?
[UNFORTUNATELY THIS IS KIND OF HIS FAULT, HE FEELS. THEY ARE IN HIS HOME TURF. But it's fine, it's fine, he's not about to argue with Luke over something like this in this awfulass situation.
He glances down at himself, taking stock.]
--I don't think so. [His arm hasn't hit betray yet...] Are you?
[By now, Luke's probably figured that out--and hey, what funny timing for this to happen, given he was just talking about (redacted). But! That's a later Luke problem.
Right now, he can feel that ever-present ache in his lungs, because of course, even like this, he can't be freed of it.
It's a struggle to share even this much truth, especially after everything they just went through. But Dahut was the first to know, and he asks now, and even though Luke's gaze drifts over the others with them, he knows this is too important to push down.]
This is a very distracting problem to have in the here and now, though. Dahut's expression shifts into that usual quiet seriousness he has when they're discussing matters like this.]
Not the way things should be... [Not in FRESH RELIVER BODIES.] ...Something does feel wrong.
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"What's Thursday" he asks--no jk. He casts his mind back, struggling to break past his extreme otome emotions. Right... the ship. Yes. He knows Dahut from the ship. And Rosa... she's home, isn't she? Safe? So this is...
He glances at the others with them. But in thinking of them--]
Eunhyuk...? [...] Viktor, Shouxue...?
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Anyway the mention of those three makes him want to curl up into a little ball, which he cannot currently do, but he's still conveying that energy.]
...They should be...
[Fine? Back in the Helly Belly getting eaten faster and larping regency rats???]
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Dahut trails off, and Luke knows what he meant. He does. His mind is settling, kind of--doing what it must to keep Luke from going catatonic with grief and shock. But the lack of conviction, especially from Dahut, casts doubt over his thoughts.
They've spent so long together, after all. They've learned how to communicate, in a way--when to be honest, even if they occupy opposite sides of the spectrum of hope. For Dahut, so confident and often optimistic, to be this unwilling to answer him... he doesn't know, does he? They have no proof that it was them, for real. But they have no proof it wasn't.
Luke squeezes his eyes shut, feeling them burn with gathering tears.]
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Anyway Dahut just watches as Luke shuts his eyes and all he wants to do in this moment is go over to him and give him a hug and hold his stupid little hands and let him know that everything will be fine because it always is, no matter how bad things get, but he can't summon that certainty up for himself let alone others, and he's just TRAPPED HERE USELESSLY anyway.
So instead, so softly that it's hard to hear:] Sorry...
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Compartmentalize. Be professional. Focus.]
Don't be. [Dahut never asked for this. Luke is the one who couldn't protect him.] Are you hurt right now?
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He glances down at himself, taking stock.]
--I don't think so. [His arm hasn't hit betray yet...] Are you?
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Right now, he can feel that ever-present ache in his lungs, because of course, even like this, he can't be freed of it.
It's a struggle to share even this much truth, especially after everything they just went through. But Dahut was the first to know, and he asks now, and even though Luke's gaze drifts over the others with them, he knows this is too important to push down.]
...Same as always.
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This is a very distracting problem to have in the here and now, though. Dahut's expression shifts into that usual quiet seriousness he has when they're discussing matters like this.]
Not the way things should be... [Not in FRESH RELIVER BODIES.] ...Something does feel wrong.
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At least that pulls him back to the present.]
With you too?
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Mm, with me, too. It's—
[Oh look here comes the 2 stooges to carry them away into hell oh my.]