[not at all easy to word this. how did one word this? five typed, deleted and re-typed messages later--- it's accidentally hitting the enter button too soon that gets him to finally send something.]
[ the answer comes delayed. like hinata, he'd considered different replies at first: no, yes, where else would i be — but in the end, he sticks to something a little safer. ]
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org Wondered if your free
[another message that takes longer than normal to return.]
[because he wasn't... sorry, but he thought maybe he should be. because if he wasn't apologetic for his own actions, then maybe for the way he'd turned on the one tasked to defend him. because the pressures aboard the ship and what he had to do put a few things in perspective.]
[it wasn't clean or easy-- he didn't know if this was even right-, but it was something.]
[ he had been curious, at first, wondering what it was that might have prompted the boy to seek him out, after they'd clearly overstayed his welcome the last time. he wonders, briefly, if hinata might have heard about what happened in the observation deck...
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:18 Hey sorry, how about now?
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:20 Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:21 Nic, hey, are you there??
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:21 Nic hey
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:22 What are you doing, are you on an assignment??
If your on an assignment I get it!!
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:25 I'm going to assume not though because there hasn't been anything new actually so, are you busy with someone else? Is there a problem???
If there's a problem you should report it
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:27 Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:27 Hey Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org TIME: hr xx:27 Nic Brown if your with someone they must be really annoyed by the beeping by now all you have to do is say something!!
[the library's not somewhere he's frequented by any stretch of the imagination; without the cuff's direction, he definitely wouldn't have made it so quickly.]
[within twenty minutes of the last text, Hinata scopes the aisles for his target - half-running, half-fast walking, trying very hard not to look panicked and failing miserably. the cuff working meant Nic was alive, but-- but then--- given everything- how couldn't it be nerve-wrecking? stupid, stupid...!]
[he pulls to a wobbly stop after nearly passing Nic's aisle, backpedaling quickly but freezing at the start upon actually spotting the guy. he isn't winded or sweating - nonetheless, his expression impersonates someone finding out their house hadn't burnt to the ground after seeing fire trucks pull down their road quite well.]
[ it's exactly one minute after hinata pauses behind a shelf to catch his breath that the boy will receive a sudden message from the very man he is working the nerve up to approach. ]
[on receiving that text after catching sight of a perfectly intact Nic, there's no more need to work up nerves. even if Nic couldn't hear it, he yelled; rounded the corner to face him, drew within ten feet, blackglass clutched on one side, volleyball tucked against the other.]
[the latter's thrown immediately at Nic's head. a soft object it may be, but for once, Hinata's aim was spectacular.]
[he'd feel a little bad after he noticed just how bad of shape the guy was in, but for now, it's all inelegance.]
[ he catches the boy's scent and responds to it just in time to get a face-full of volleyball. it's a good thing he's not a normally loud person, because he gives nothing more than a strangled sound, half-muffled by the ball colliding against his mouth as his body is pitched backwards in his surprise.
he doesn't knock back against any shelves, thankfully, but he does wind up on his back, once more, thanks to this kid... this better not be a damned habit.
he sits back up, though, but his movements are slower, pointedly strained. the ball's rolling away, forgotten, his entire attention on the boy on the other end of the aisle.
[something like relief and something like shame flushes out the indignation that had prompted the throw. reflex makes him step forward (towards the rebounded volleyball); observation stalls his feet as Nic returns to up-right, slow as it is. the struggle catches his attention the most, opens his mouth for a brief second before snapping it closed.]
[bottom lip bitten - every emotion clearly displayed - and a long pause, wherein he wonders where what he wanted to say (he'd practiced it in the room!) fled to. it was going to get awkward... why was he worried about it growing awkward? he remembered what he'd started the ordeal for, but getting there was another beast--- the longer he stared, the more surreal it felt.]
[finally, hands clumsy from disuse but nonetheless drawn upon:]
What happened?
[because he couldn't start with what he'd came here for. it froze his fingers, stuck in his throat. but he could gesture to Nic's general state; he could use the gestures he should've used before.]
[ the gestures were clumsy, but quicker to come to hinata than they had been, before, which is still a marked improvement, and something nic can't help but noting. (or, rather, something nic focuses on noting, if only for something other than the boy himself to focus on.)
he reads hinata's meaning well enough, and can surmise what hinata himself is referring to, but he doesn't answer right away. doesn't even really look at him, save for a swift, cursory look-over for any injuries, anything out of place— but no, tess would have surely taken him to medical if he'd had any, surely, surely. ]
SoMEone ThreW a BaLl aT mY HEAd, [ he finally replies, the worst stilted and rough, ground out between gritted teeth. doesn't bother with his signs, his hands, some fingers of which can probably be noticeably mangled, even from where hinata stands. ]
[he sniffs, once. rubs the bottom of his nose. usually, if given the option, he'd default to speech-- harder for the other, sure, but faster in the long run. gestures stilted but persistent, at present, he kept with it. compared to the pause before, his reply is near instant.]
[wouldn't move forward. looked Nic directly in the eye only so long as the gaze weren't met - attention flitted between tired eyes and mangled fingers, his own health absolutely perfect in comparison (paler skin, bruised purple under his own set of exhausted eyes, smooth hands: he'd gotten the burn healed, though he swore it itched in time with the pock-marks across his hip).]
Why punch a door?
[a beat. before Nic could say anything - voice quiet, almost dusty, not that it mattered. eyes dropped to mangled hands; something smaller than it used to be clenched in his stomach.]
[ it takes nic a moment to recall who this tsuna is — names weren't much to him these days, faces and behaviors cataloged away in his mind instead. possum, he remembers. and already he regrets letting the boy sit beside him that day.
instead of answering right away, he climbs back into a sitting position, body moving in heavy, sluggish gestures before he's got a back to the shelf once more, one knee drawn up while the other stretched out to just barely touch the other shelf across. ]
we HaD a disAgREeMenT.
[ maybe it is hinata's business, but only insofar as it would be the business of anyone who'd been around the observation deck that day — by extension. his reasons for doing what he did were his alone, and one he isn't particularly keen on divulging, whether due to pride or shame or an odd mixture of both.
(or maybe because he realizes it had never been his business in the first place.) ]
[all at once: he's tired. such occurrences increased over the last eighty-plus hours. hot to cold, awake to exhausted, antsy to still. a frown makes its way onto his face, hands dropping to curl into the bottoms of the combat uniform's side pouches. shoulders droop in time, head angling downward as seconds tick back, thoughts running into why haven't you got that fixed, backpedaling into what was it about, ultimately leaving him with nothing to act upon.]
[the ball. three steps forward, stoops to grab it. ends up crouching on the toes of his feet, volleyball raised for seemingly close inspection.]
Like that, they're gonna mend funny. [in the same voice, a little less dusty. another sniff.] Then your fingers're going to be even lumpier than they already are, and the door's gonna know it won.
[the man's movements didn't sit right with him. even in his worst anger-- especially in his worst anger- Nic's fluidity, the assurance of power in every muscle, had been points of admiration. enforced, prolonged pain when they could be called to action at any moment... even beyond duty: self-enforced pain. absurd. unsettling.]
[he would've immediately written it off as another thing he couldn't understand, but. maybe it was time to chip away at that.]
[ really, it's a wonder hinata has managed to go on for as long as he already has. it's been a harrowing couple of days for everyone, but for hinata especially, considering all that he's done (while still probably convinced he hadn't done a thing). and while nic isn't privy to what went on during his black box, he can surmise from tess' reaction that it hadn't been a walk in the park, either.
then again, nic can't say he's all that surprised. the boy had always been surprisingly resilient. maybe they were all wrong to worry so much, after all. ]
it WOn, [ nic replies dully. ] doEsn'T MaTtEr iF iT KNOws.
[ his head hangs heavy, much like the rest of his tired limbs, but he doesn't tip it back against the shelf like he wants to. he wouldn't be able to read his cuff if he did. ]
[-- so he would've thought months on months ago; now, he plops down.]
[sets the volleyball between his legs, idly rolls it forward and back.]
Sorry.
[sign instead of word. easier to concentrate on moving hands that didn't feel like a real language for an apology that shouldn't have been difficult. then again, if he actually had hindsight, he'd know it would have been impossible before trying to hold organs in with bare hands alone, before wooden floors and Tess's kind tone. before all that happened overshadowed his own lapse in judgment, and while his pride hadn't picked itself up - while shame and you hold me back sits as a laden stone in his stomach - he had gained more than a few new thoughts on it, and one of those were:]
[he'd been out of line.]
[shoving down someone doing their job, who wouldn't even fight back--]
[it'd been out of line.]
[should've apologized for the red mark on Nic's cheek, too. if the guy took it as that, he wouldn't argue.]
jesus christ i am so sorry for how late this tag is i seriously lost this notif wails
[ it's a good, long while before nic decides to respond. signing would be easier, but it would also require more use of his hands, and while the gestures wouldn't cause too much pain, he isn't too willing to have his hands become the center of attention given their current state.
people don't often say sorry to him, and nic nearly tells him as much. but then he realizes this might not be entirely about him in the first place, and that is a little easier to swallow than the alternative.
so he lets it happen. lets it be said, in the language he knows best, too, and lets hinata have this moment.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
DAY 75 (very early)
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
Hey
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
Are you around?
no subject
FROM: brown.nicolas@cdc.org
Why
?
no subject
Wondered if your free
[another message that takes longer than normal to return.]
[because he wasn't... sorry, but he thought maybe he should be. because if he wasn't apologetic for his own actions, then maybe for the way he'd turned on the one tasked to defend him. because the pressures aboard the ship and what he had to do put a few things in perspective.]
[it wasn't clean or easy-- he didn't know if this was even right-, but it was something.]
no subject
he decides he doesn't want to know, either way. ]
FROM: brown.nicolas@cdc.org
No
I'm not
no subject
Will you be free later?
[he wouldn't be him if he didn't persist. what he did and didn't know - that'd appear later.]
no subject
I'll only know later
[ and nic wouldn't be nic if he didn't make it a struggle every single time... ]
no subject
Fine! That's ok!
I'll try again later
[an hour later, to be precise, if there's no reply.]
no subject
no subject
[it's being annoyingly, horribly persistent.]
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:02
Nic? Sorry, is now ok?
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:10
Maybe now...?
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:15
Nic, hey
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:18
Hey sorry, how about now?
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:20
Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:21
Nic, hey, are you there??
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:21
Nic hey
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:22
What are you doing, are you on an assignment??
If your on an assignment I get it!!
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:25
I'm going to assume not though because there hasn't been anything new actually so, are you busy with someone else? Is there a problem???
If there's a problem you should report it
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:27
Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:27
Hey Nic
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:27
Nic Brown if your with someone they must be really annoyed by the beeping by now all you have to do is say something!!
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:27
Hey
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: hr xx:29
Hey!!!!
no subject
TIME: xx:46
Nic come on I know your readingthese
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: xx:49
What cats got your tong??
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: xx:49
dont laugh that isnt funny
FROM: hinata.shouyou@cdc.org
TIME: xx:50
nic
no subject
TIME: x1:00
its benef like an hour ar ou ded
no subject
TIME: x1:00
ok i Hope youre not in the middle ofsnaything
no subject
TIME: x1:01
stupid
----> action
[within twenty minutes of the last text, Hinata scopes the aisles for his target - half-running, half-fast walking, trying very hard not to look panicked and failing miserably. the cuff working meant Nic was alive, but-- but then--- given everything- how couldn't it be nerve-wrecking? stupid, stupid...!]
[he pulls to a wobbly stop after nearly passing Nic's aisle, backpedaling quickly but freezing at the start upon actually spotting the guy. he isn't winded or sweating - nonetheless, his expression impersonates someone finding out their house hadn't burnt to the ground after seeing fire trucks pull down their road quite well.]
no subject
FROM: brown.nicolas@cdc.org
Yor face is stu
p
id
no subject
[the latter's thrown immediately at Nic's head. a soft object it may be, but for once, Hinata's aim was spectacular.]
[he'd feel a little bad after he noticed just how bad of shape the guy was in, but for now, it's all inelegance.]
You're stupider!
no subject
he doesn't knock back against any shelves, thankfully, but he does wind up on his back, once more, thanks to this kid... this better not be a damned habit.
he sits back up, though, but his movements are slower, pointedly strained. the ball's rolling away, forgotten, his entire attention on the boy on the other end of the aisle.
what the actual hell??? ]
no subject
[something like relief and something like shame flushes out the indignation that had prompted the throw. reflex makes him step forward (towards the rebounded volleyball); observation stalls his feet as Nic returns to up-right, slow as it is. the struggle catches his attention the most, opens his mouth for a brief second before snapping it closed.]
[bottom lip bitten - every emotion clearly displayed - and a long pause, wherein he wonders where what he wanted to say (he'd practiced it in the room!) fled to. it was going to get awkward... why was he worried about it growing awkward? he remembered what he'd started the ordeal for, but getting there was another beast--- the longer he stared, the more surreal it felt.]
[finally, hands clumsy from disuse but nonetheless drawn upon:]
What happened?
[because he couldn't start with what he'd came here for. it froze his fingers, stuck in his throat. but he could gesture to Nic's general state; he could use the gestures he should've used before.]
no subject
he reads hinata's meaning well enough, and can surmise what hinata himself is referring to, but he doesn't answer right away. doesn't even really look at him, save for a swift, cursory look-over for any injuries, anything out of place— but no, tess would have surely taken him to medical if he'd had any, surely, surely. ]
SoMEone ThreW a BaLl aT mY HEAd, [ he finally replies, the worst stilted and rough, ground out between gritted teeth. doesn't bother with his signs, his hands, some fingers of which can probably be noticeably mangled, even from where hinata stands. ]
no subject
[he sniffs, once. rubs the bottom of his nose. usually, if given the option, he'd default to speech-- harder for the other, sure, but faster in the long run. gestures stilted but persistent, at present, he kept with it. compared to the pause before, his reply is near instant.]
[wouldn't move forward. looked Nic directly in the eye only so long as the gaze weren't met - attention flitted between tired eyes and mangled fingers, his own health absolutely perfect in comparison (paler skin, bruised purple under his own set of exhausted eyes, smooth hands: he'd gotten the burn healed, though he swore it itched in time with the pock-marks across his hip).]
Why punch a door?
[a beat. before Nic could say anything - voice quiet, almost dusty, not that it mattered. eyes dropped to mangled hands; something smaller than it used to be clenched in his stomach.]
Tsuna told me.
[only enough to make a guess, anyway.]
no subject
instead of answering right away, he climbs back into a sitting position, body moving in heavy, sluggish gestures before he's got a back to the shelf once more, one knee drawn up while the other stretched out to just barely touch the other shelf across. ]
we HaD a disAgREeMenT.
[ maybe it is hinata's business, but only insofar as it would be the business of anyone who'd been around the observation deck that day — by extension. his reasons for doing what he did were his alone, and one he isn't particularly keen on divulging, whether due to pride or shame or an odd mixture of both.
(or maybe because he realizes it had never been his business in the first place.) ]
no subject
[...]
[all at once: he's tired. such occurrences increased over the last eighty-plus hours. hot to cold, awake to exhausted, antsy to still. a frown makes its way onto his face, hands dropping to curl into the bottoms of the combat uniform's side pouches. shoulders droop in time, head angling downward as seconds tick back, thoughts running into why haven't you got that fixed, backpedaling into what was it about, ultimately leaving him with nothing to act upon.]
[the ball. three steps forward, stoops to grab it. ends up crouching on the toes of his feet, volleyball raised for seemingly close inspection.]
Like that, they're gonna mend funny. [in the same voice, a little less dusty. another sniff.] Then your fingers're going to be even lumpier than they already are, and the door's gonna know it won.
[the man's movements didn't sit right with him. even in his worst anger-- especially in his worst anger- Nic's fluidity, the assurance of power in every muscle, had been points of admiration. enforced, prolonged pain when they could be called to action at any moment... even beyond duty: self-enforced pain. absurd. unsettling.]
[he would've immediately written it off as another thing he couldn't understand, but. maybe it was time to chip away at that.]
[(it seemed important enough.)]
no subject
then again, nic can't say he's all that surprised. the boy had always been surprisingly resilient. maybe they were all wrong to worry so much, after all. ]
it WOn, [ nic replies dully. ] doEsn'T MaTtEr iF iT KNOws.
[ his head hangs heavy, much like the rest of his tired limbs, but he doesn't tip it back against the shelf like he wants to. he wouldn't be able to read his cuff if he did. ]
no subject
[-- so he would've thought months on months ago; now, he plops down.]
[sets the volleyball between his legs, idly rolls it forward and back.]
Sorry.
[sign instead of word. easier to concentrate on moving hands that didn't feel like a real language for an apology that shouldn't have been difficult. then again, if he actually had hindsight, he'd know it would have been impossible before trying to hold organs in with bare hands alone, before wooden floors and Tess's kind tone. before all that happened overshadowed his own lapse in judgment, and while his pride hadn't picked itself up - while shame and you hold me back sits as a laden stone in his stomach - he had gained more than a few new thoughts on it, and one of those were:]
[he'd been out of line.]
[shoving down someone doing their job, who wouldn't even fight back--]
[it'd been out of line.]
[should've apologized for the red mark on Nic's cheek, too. if the guy took it as that, he wouldn't argue.]
jesus christ i am so sorry for how late this tag is i seriously lost this notif wails
people don't often say sorry to him, and nic nearly tells him as much. but then he realizes this might not be entirely about him in the first place, and that is a little easier to swallow than the alternative.
so he lets it happen. lets it be said, in the language he knows best, too, and lets hinata have this moment.
and when it passes, he'll offer: ]
YoUR aiM iSN't bAd.
slowly shakes head and takes your hand anD SQUEEZES IT AAAA LENA ruins the mood with this tag
why do you build me up buttercup then you bring me down
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I'm sorry for smashing into... set timelines....... aahhh.
shhh shhhh
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