[ So that's what had happened. The moment Ian says it, Mace sees how well it all falls into place, how he'd misinterpreted it earlier.
Shorts me out. It wasn't a hijacking so much as it was Ian's body itself, warning him after his superpowers got zapped, and that means they're both left more vulnerable during an attack but also warned before it, which. You know what? Mace'll take it. Because.
It gives them time, and that's the one thing they've always been fuckin' short on. The one thing that can make the difference between surviving and not when you get jumped, like these goddamn spooks kept doing. He begins to tear the cotton into several long pieces, meant for the torches, setting them to the side as he speaks. ]
Want you to make a weapon for yourself. Maybe a kind of bat, if you're good for wood; easy to use, long-distance so you can hang further back. Me, I got myself covered with this.
[ This, meaning, he's got the knife, and he has absolutely no intention of losing it. Has already shifted into a mindset of rationing in a way that hadn't happened even back at the cabin, when they'd started stockpiling in the master bedroom, because then at least there'd been some subconscious idea that they would escape, almost a certainty. Here, there's none.
The only other thing Mace needs, or that they're most likely gonna end up needing, is rope, and fuck. He's lost count of how many times he's thought this, but again, Mace can't help but think how fucking lucky he is to have him. ]
And ... could use some rope, if you can wrangle it. First birthday gift I got was a fuckin' paracord bracelet, it comes in handy.
[ For example, Mace had teethed on it. He starts soaking up the first stretch of cotton, holding out a hand for the wooden parts, for whenever Ian's finished making them, continuing: ]
I feel like this is probably the safest place we're gonna get to camp out, though. We can stick it out here for a while, until we're ready. Can hit pause on the flashlights until we get to our next pit-stop, if you're — not doing too hot.
[ Tired, obviously he was. Upset, a fucking given. Drained is probably the best word here but by that time, Mace has already gone for the far lamer description. Hand-crank flashlights sound they're gonna take a lot out of Ian, though, and Mace's eyes go over him again to see how he's holding up through body language alone. ]
no subject
Shorts me out. It wasn't a hijacking so much as it was Ian's body itself, warning him after his superpowers got zapped, and that means they're both left more vulnerable during an attack but also warned before it, which. You know what? Mace'll take it. Because.
It gives them time, and that's the one thing they've always been fuckin' short on. The one thing that can make the difference between surviving and not when you get jumped, like these goddamn spooks kept doing. He begins to tear the cotton into several long pieces, meant for the torches, setting them to the side as he speaks. ]
Want you to make a weapon for yourself. Maybe a kind of bat, if you're good for wood; easy to use, long-distance so you can hang further back. Me, I got myself covered with this.
[ This, meaning, he's got the knife, and he has absolutely no intention of losing it. Has already shifted into a mindset of rationing in a way that hadn't happened even back at the cabin, when they'd started stockpiling in the master bedroom, because then at least there'd been some subconscious idea that they would escape, almost a certainty. Here, there's none.
The only other thing Mace needs, or that they're most likely gonna end up needing, is rope, and fuck. He's lost count of how many times he's thought this, but again, Mace can't help but think how fucking lucky he is to have him. ]
And ... could use some rope, if you can wrangle it. First birthday gift I got was a fuckin' paracord bracelet, it comes in handy.
[ For example, Mace had teethed on it. He starts soaking up the first stretch of cotton, holding out a hand for the wooden parts, for whenever Ian's finished making them, continuing: ]
I feel like this is probably the safest place we're gonna get to camp out, though. We can stick it out here for a while, until we're ready. Can hit pause on the flashlights until we get to our next pit-stop, if you're — not doing too hot.
[ Tired, obviously he was. Upset, a fucking given. Drained is probably the best word here but by that time, Mace has already gone for the far lamer description. Hand-crank flashlights sound they're gonna take a lot out of Ian, though, and Mace's eyes go over him again to see how he's holding up through body language alone. ]