Oh, he was being tuned out, he figured. No reaction he had thought of- no glare or rotten jab from Joel, and he would have made a face of displeasure hadn't Ellie been there. It was difficult to fully wrap his head around, and he doubted he truly would. He didn't know who Joel was-- didn't have the faintest fucking clue. He didn't understand their world, which by itself was one more thing to add to the never-ending list, but now it wasn't just Ellie's life, no.
There was this man he didn't know, sharing it.
"It didn't make a lot of sense when we called you Fido, anyway," he says, shrugging. He turned the knife over in his palm, and then remembered his robe had pockets and let it slide down there. Gee, he'll have to remember about that. And he continues, feeling like everything was suddenly stale. "'s fine. I thrive on abuse. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here." And he recalls something about blabbering about Massachusetts and masochists, and he chuffs in laughter, a sincere and haphazard and sloppy smile tugging at his lips. She'd be fine. The rottweiler would kill anyone-- and she'd be fine. And he'd be alone, and he sighs and the smile slides off whimsically. He wished he'd been drunk for this, really, but of course he didn't mean that. "You two kids have a lot of catching up to do," Hawkeye points out, and the lilt had returned and now it was more sing-song, the smile shining in his eyes only, because his mouth was too preoccupied in wrangling a serious look that wouldn't keep.
no subject
There was this man he didn't know, sharing it.
"It didn't make a lot of sense when we called you Fido, anyway," he says, shrugging. He turned the knife over in his palm, and then remembered his robe had pockets and let it slide down there. Gee, he'll have to remember about that. And he continues, feeling like everything was suddenly stale. "'s fine. I thrive on abuse. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here." And he recalls something about blabbering about Massachusetts and masochists, and he chuffs in laughter, a sincere and haphazard and sloppy smile tugging at his lips. She'd be fine. The rottweiler would kill anyone-- and she'd be fine. And he'd be alone, and he sighs and the smile slides off whimsically. He wished he'd been drunk for this, really, but of course he didn't mean that. "You two kids have a lot of catching up to do," Hawkeye points out, and the lilt had returned and now it was more sing-song, the smile shining in his eyes only, because his mouth was too preoccupied in wrangling a serious look that wouldn't keep.
He was interrupting.