[ He is not even remotely 2% bothered by snatching Mace by the belt and reeling him in. There are other circumstances where he'd be more interested in that than what he's looking at, but as it stands... This sort of takes precedent for his attention.
The heart's still beating, and once again Ian's overcome with this... urge, this impulse -- grab a knife, drive it through. Make it stop. Put it out of its misery. He thinks, irrationally, that somewhere out there is a person carved open but still alive, desperate to have all of it just stop.
He slams the fridge closed. Nods, and if he... seems to hover a little too close to Mace as they move, well, frankly it's because they're building sort of an association here. A dynamic. Hard not to think of someone as your protector when they've taken every available opportunity to protect - even though Ian's adamantly never allowed himself one before.
He guards himself. He doesn't trust his safety or his body or his vulnerability to another person.
Tell that to the way the front of his left shoulder's almost constantly brushing the back of Mace's right.
Supplies are gathered. Canned soup, canned meat, canned vegetables, canned fruit. Crackers. It's gonna be a hell of a lot of sodium, but it's a decent enough array of nutrients aside from that. He can make water. He can make- well, not fire in the traditional sense, but he can make a chafing dish. Utensils. Dishes.
They retreat, once again, into the bedroom. The dresser gets pushed back in front, but as soon as it's there Ian takes out the bottom drawer. The window's still broken. He can take apart the drawer and they can board it up. Got a screwdriver already, the hammer's just as easy. It might sooth mace to see him sit down on the bed for this part. ]
I think we gotta start thinking about trying the woods again.
[ He murmurs, wedging the screwdriver in. Smacking it with a hammer once or twice, then wiggling back and forth to pry the front away from the sides and bottom. ]
This isn't sustainable. Cameras, mics, maybe hidden speakers for audio replication. Whatever the fuck they're pumping into the air to make us see shit, or...
no subject
The heart's still beating, and once again Ian's overcome with this... urge, this impulse -- grab a knife, drive it through. Make it stop. Put it out of its misery. He thinks, irrationally, that somewhere out there is a person carved open but still alive, desperate to have all of it just stop.
He slams the fridge closed. Nods, and if he... seems to hover a little too close to Mace as they move, well, frankly it's because they're building sort of an association here. A dynamic. Hard not to think of someone as your protector when they've taken every available opportunity to protect - even though Ian's adamantly never allowed himself one before.
He guards himself. He doesn't trust his safety or his body or his vulnerability to another person.
Tell that to the way the front of his left shoulder's almost constantly brushing the back of Mace's right.
Supplies are gathered. Canned soup, canned meat, canned vegetables, canned fruit. Crackers. It's gonna be a hell of a lot of sodium, but it's a decent enough array of nutrients aside from that. He can make water. He can make- well, not fire in the traditional sense, but he can make a chafing dish. Utensils. Dishes.
They retreat, once again, into the bedroom. The dresser gets pushed back in front, but as soon as it's there Ian takes out the bottom drawer. The window's still broken. He can take apart the drawer and they can board it up. Got a screwdriver already, the hammer's just as easy. It might sooth mace to see him sit down on the bed for this part. ]
I think we gotta start thinking about trying the woods again.
[ He murmurs, wedging the screwdriver in. Smacking it with a hammer once or twice, then wiggling back and forth to pry the front away from the sides and bottom. ]
This isn't sustainable. Cameras, mics, maybe hidden speakers for audio replication. Whatever the fuck they're pumping into the air to make us see shit, or...
[ Actually manipulating, somehow. ]