[ Mace thinks he has an idea of what's going through Ian's head right now. Not exact thoughts, of course, but the general tone of them, and how quickly he must be rifling through them. The way Ian's gently massaging his eyes like just the news is enough to have given him a sudden headache.
Honestly, Mace doesn't blame him. The logical, most straightforward answer is that the lever would lift the gate.
Nothing about this place has been logical, let alone straightforward. It's equally likely that the lever triggers something fucked up, or does nothing at all. One last red herring to taunt them before the next bout of suffering begins.
But the weight of this decision, that's not something Mace wants Ian to be bearing at all, forget bearing it alone, and when he pulls his hand away, Mace's eyes are on him with the same intensity. Only this time, tempered by concern at the hoarseness of Ian's voice, at what he mumbles to himself. ]
Obviously.
[ A murmured agreement, as he kneels next to their supply bundle, undoing it with the intention of pulling out the rope. Ian had made more than enough for them to use it for both of the ideas Mace has in mind, and after he removes it, the next thing to go is.
His clothing. He stands back up, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt in quick, clever movements. Barely takes him ten seconds before he's bare-chested, the flannel draped over Ian's shoulders like a cape. Instead of moving to the zipper of his jeans, though, he bends down to pick up the rope. Starts looping a double-length of it around his chest, right at his diaphragm before bringing another length of it over his shoulder, and only then does he speak. ]
You ever do any ropework?
[ Incidentally, Mace hasn't taken his eyes off of Ian the entire time. ]
no subject
Honestly, Mace doesn't blame him. The logical, most straightforward answer is that the lever would lift the gate.
Nothing about this place has been logical, let alone straightforward. It's equally likely that the lever triggers something fucked up, or does nothing at all. One last red herring to taunt them before the next bout of suffering begins.
But the weight of this decision, that's not something Mace wants Ian to be bearing at all, forget bearing it alone, and when he pulls his hand away, Mace's eyes are on him with the same intensity. Only this time, tempered by concern at the hoarseness of Ian's voice, at what he mumbles to himself. ]
Obviously.
[ A murmured agreement, as he kneels next to their supply bundle, undoing it with the intention of pulling out the rope. Ian had made more than enough for them to use it for both of the ideas Mace has in mind, and after he removes it, the next thing to go is.
His clothing. He stands back up, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt in quick, clever movements. Barely takes him ten seconds before he's bare-chested, the flannel draped over Ian's shoulders like a cape. Instead of moving to the zipper of his jeans, though, he bends down to pick up the rope. Starts looping a double-length of it around his chest, right at his diaphragm before bringing another length of it over his shoulder, and only then does he speak. ]
You ever do any ropework?
[ Incidentally, Mace hasn't taken his eyes off of Ian the entire time. ]