"Those kinds of classifications never mattered, Howard. Labels like that only separate people and keep them from learning how to interact with anyone different with any real understanding," Tim says with some annoyance. This is a sore spot.
"Labels turn into cliques, which can degenerate into gangs, and then its murdergames, even back home. And it's a plastic cord," Tim says, yanking on it harder now. He's got about three feet of it, but he was hoping for more. He's not sure how much he wanted, but there's also no way of telling how much he's going to need. It might do for a rope. It would make a fair garrote, too, he notes. It's a wide, flat cable that wouldn't cut into the skin, the kind that would let you strangle someone to the point of oxygen deprivation - but would still let them recover. Eventually. More than enough time to run away.
Tim is suddenly seized with possessiveness, though, and alarmed by the attention that Howard is showing it. Which is ridiculous, it's just a scrap of cable, and Howard has offered to help him catch fish, something so much more practical. He could strangle someone with his hands if he needed too. He refuses to go along with that grasping, devolved selfishness. If Howard asks for it, he'll give him the cable after they eat.
"I thought it might come in handy. Tie the food to it and hang it high. Maybe the vermin won't get at it. It'll be hard to get a good knot in it though. Good wires are designed to prevent tight ones so that the filaments don't get damaged." Tim inspects the counter, to see if any more of it looks like it might come loose. The rest feels sturdy, and he doesn't want to break his hand or foot trying to get more. He pulls out his knife and cuts it free. "Did you get everything you wanted?"
no subject
"Labels turn into cliques, which can degenerate into gangs, and then its murdergames, even back home. And it's a plastic cord," Tim says, yanking on it harder now. He's got about three feet of it, but he was hoping for more. He's not sure how much he wanted, but there's also no way of telling how much he's going to need. It might do for a rope. It would make a fair garrote, too, he notes. It's a wide, flat cable that wouldn't cut into the skin, the kind that would let you strangle someone to the point of oxygen deprivation - but would still let them recover. Eventually. More than enough time to run away.
Tim is suddenly seized with possessiveness, though, and alarmed by the attention that Howard is showing it. Which is ridiculous, it's just a scrap of cable, and Howard has offered to help him catch fish, something so much more practical. He could strangle someone with his hands if he needed too. He refuses to go along with that grasping, devolved selfishness. If Howard asks for it, he'll give him the cable after they eat.
"I thought it might come in handy. Tie the food to it and hang it high. Maybe the vermin won't get at it. It'll be hard to get a good knot in it though. Good wires are designed to prevent tight ones so that the filaments don't get damaged." Tim inspects the counter, to see if any more of it looks like it might come loose. The rest feels sturdy, and he doesn't want to break his hand or foot trying to get more. He pulls out his knife and cuts it free. "Did you get everything you wanted?"