He's totally already been to that dumpster, R. He scared off some pretty big rats from some of those tossed-out Halloween costumes.
"Not you," Howard says, pulling his hoodie off to make sure that the coffee hasn't soaked through his top layer. He's not about to do the same to his pants, so he just brushes some of the pooling liquid off his thighs and squirms a bit. He can see his ribs through his t-shirt, fucking awesome. He gently pushes R's hand away from dabbing at him, trying to preserve his personal bubble without insulting one of the few friends he has. "I'm just, you know, jumpy."
He presses the corners of his mouth together and looks at R. He has to say, he's grateful that R can have conversations again, even just the one-syllable ones. Trying to read R's already-muted body language was a bit of a trial back in the Arena.
One of the first things he did when he got back was make sure that those raptors hadn't gotten R. He breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't, that he hadn't left R to get ripped apart by feathered death-lizards while he climbed up a tree in the jungle and examined the shallow cut that ripped its way down his stomach. He'd been lucky. A centimeter deeper and he'd have gotten his guts slashed up. It's not like he had a ton of padding the raptor had to get through.
Even more lucky that R isn't holding him running against him.
I charged a dinosaur with a stick for you. And then I ran away like a bitch.
A barista sets a new cup of coffee in front of Howard, knowing by now that he'll want something hot to drink no matter how long he's here, and that he'll pay up when the tab comes. He doesn't thank her. He covers the top with his hand, letting warm condensation form in his palm. He bites his lip a little as he looks at R, one of them looking deathly and the other looking like the fresher side of dead.
"You should try growing a beard, now that you got your jaw back."
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"Not you," Howard says, pulling his hoodie off to make sure that the coffee hasn't soaked through his top layer. He's not about to do the same to his pants, so he just brushes some of the pooling liquid off his thighs and squirms a bit. He can see his ribs through his t-shirt, fucking awesome. He gently pushes R's hand away from dabbing at him, trying to preserve his personal bubble without insulting one of the few friends he has. "I'm just, you know, jumpy."
He presses the corners of his mouth together and looks at R. He has to say, he's grateful that R can have conversations again, even just the one-syllable ones. Trying to read R's already-muted body language was a bit of a trial back in the Arena.
One of the first things he did when he got back was make sure that those raptors hadn't gotten R. He breathed a sigh of relief that they hadn't, that he hadn't left R to get ripped apart by feathered death-lizards while he climbed up a tree in the jungle and examined the shallow cut that ripped its way down his stomach. He'd been lucky. A centimeter deeper and he'd have gotten his guts slashed up. It's not like he had a ton of padding the raptor had to get through.
Even more lucky that R isn't holding him running against him.
I charged a dinosaur with a stick for you. And then I ran away like a bitch.
A barista sets a new cup of coffee in front of Howard, knowing by now that he'll want something hot to drink no matter how long he's here, and that he'll pay up when the tab comes. He doesn't thank her. He covers the top with his hand, letting warm condensation form in his palm. He bites his lip a little as he looks at R, one of them looking deathly and the other looking like the fresher side of dead.
"You should try growing a beard, now that you got your jaw back."