[ Barely half an hour ago, this development would’ve been cause for Mace to start getting uncharacteristically on edge and nervy. The way the tunnel starts to slope downward, the ceiling feeling as though it’s also starting to get lower the deeper in they go — and it does nothing, now. Not with Ian’s taste still on his lips, and his fingers steady and warm in Mace’s hand.
The fuckin’ picture Ian had made just now, up against the wall like something out of a centerfold, still in Mace's mind in full colour.
A sharp, amused exhale when Ian speaks up quietly and he’s glancing over his shoulder questioningly. ]
Goose? Is that a …
[ Pet name — but before he can say it, something nudges him in the back of his mind: an old, old memory of sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the couch his father was on. Watching something on a huge screen, his small neck craned back and his mouth dropped open in permanent wonder. The piercing, thrilling whistle of a fighter jet revving up, a man in dark glasses, a motorcycle gleaming under the sun.
The wide, endless, open sky. ]
Movie reference. Of course it is. [ He finishes wryly, with a dumb little twinge at the realization, followed by feeling absolutely ridiculous for it. What the hell? Had he … wanted it to be a pet name? Jesus, what's Ian doing to him, and why doesn’t he even mind?
Come on, Mace. Head back in the game. He halts them gently, raising the torch up just a little to make sure the way’s still clear, before turning around. ]
Floor’s starting to slope. The moisture in the walls, that’s still mostly to our right, but check this out.
[ He lifts the torch up a ways, indicating how the damp has started to slowly shift in the direction of directly above them. When he meets Ian’s gaze again it’s with a quiet spark of something that might be hope, for the first time all night. ]
You said something about running water and an outlet, right?
[ Looks like they’re headed somewhere, at least. Making some kind of progress, unharmed and unhindered. Although, the spark he's feeling — Mace is fully aware that it has more to do with the guy he's holding onto like they're going to prom instead of headed down a murder-cave's tunnel system. The guy who’s done more to light his way than the goddamn fiery torch in his other hand. ]
no subject
The fuckin’ picture Ian had made just now, up against the wall like something out of a centerfold, still in Mace's mind in full colour.
A sharp, amused exhale when Ian speaks up quietly and he’s glancing over his shoulder questioningly. ]
Goose? Is that a …
[ Pet name — but before he can say it, something nudges him in the back of his mind: an old, old memory of sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the couch his father was on. Watching something on a huge screen, his small neck craned back and his mouth dropped open in permanent wonder. The piercing, thrilling whistle of a fighter jet revving up, a man in dark glasses, a motorcycle gleaming under the sun.
The wide, endless, open sky. ]
Movie reference. Of course it is. [ He finishes wryly, with a dumb little twinge at the realization, followed by feeling absolutely ridiculous for it. What the hell? Had he … wanted it to be a pet name? Jesus, what's Ian doing to him, and why doesn’t he even mind?
Come on, Mace. Head back in the game. He halts them gently, raising the torch up just a little to make sure the way’s still clear, before turning around. ]
Floor’s starting to slope. The moisture in the walls, that’s still mostly to our right, but check this out.
[ He lifts the torch up a ways, indicating how the damp has started to slowly shift in the direction of directly above them. When he meets Ian’s gaze again it’s with a quiet spark of something that might be hope, for the first time all night. ]
You said something about running water and an outlet, right?
[ Looks like they’re headed somewhere, at least. Making some kind of progress, unharmed and unhindered. Although, the spark he's feeling — Mace is fully aware that it has more to do with the guy he's holding onto like they're going to prom instead of headed down a murder-cave's tunnel system. The guy who’s done more to light his way than the goddamn fiery torch in his other hand. ]