To say that Luke has been doing his homework is an understatement. Since the arena’s end he has thrown himself that much more into planning and research, viewing and reviewing a wealth of footage on Jennifer’s recommendation and penning down notes and relevant time-stamps, sometimes well into the small hours of the morning. Whatever it took to quiet the chatter in his mind enough to sleep.
They all had their ways of coping.
Luke is hunched at his desk over his communicator and an open notepad again when the knock snaps him into awareness, his gut clenching at the sound. He scribbles down the rest of his thought before clicking his pen and tossing it between the pages. And his insides only wind tighter as he pads to the door and unlocks it, drawing it open carefully as if he isn’t sure what he’ll find.
In all fairness, he doesn’t know. They’re looking at each other – taking each other in – for the first time since the xenomutt had wrenched Nick away from him and he feels his ribcage shrink around his lungs, squeezing. His mouth opens but it’s a moment before he can work his voice from the tangle in his throat.
“Hey,” He tries, lamely. It hangs heavy in the air. And he stands there a half-beat too long in the awkwardness it leaves behind - head dipping slightly and an uneasy thinning of his lips - before stepping aside, mutely welcoming him inside. There isn’t much to see right away other than the steady accumulation of crumpled cans littering his desk. But further off, on the nightstand, are a gently-creased family photo and origami crane. The only personal touches to a place much too large and lavish for his tastes.
no subject
They all had their ways of coping.
Luke is hunched at his desk over his communicator and an open notepad again when the knock snaps him into awareness, his gut clenching at the sound. He scribbles down the rest of his thought before clicking his pen and tossing it between the pages. And his insides only wind tighter as he pads to the door and unlocks it, drawing it open carefully as if he isn’t sure what he’ll find.
In all fairness, he doesn’t know. They’re looking at each other – taking each other in – for the first time since the xenomutt had wrenched Nick away from him and he feels his ribcage shrink around his lungs, squeezing. His mouth opens but it’s a moment before he can work his voice from the tangle in his throat.
“Hey,” He tries, lamely. It hangs heavy in the air. And he stands there a half-beat too long in the awkwardness it leaves behind - head dipping slightly and an uneasy thinning of his lips - before stepping aside, mutely welcoming him inside. There isn’t much to see right away other than the steady accumulation of crumpled cans littering his desk. But further off, on the nightstand, are a gently-creased family photo and origami crane. The only personal touches to a place much too large and lavish for his tastes.