[Eugene had been a bit adrift ever since he came back from the war, but he couldn't afford to be completely adrift - all he had to his name was what he earned or could pay for himself, which serving his country hadn't changed. It had given him a bit more prestige, though, enough that he was able to start doing construction contracting rather than working on sites as he had before the war. He even had a nice truck out front of his house, not brand new but in good shape, with his name painted on the side. Relocating to Baton Rouge had been a wise choice professionally.
Personally? He wasn't sure if anything would've helped out on that front. He'd always been a quiet, retiring sort, and that was no different now, so most people who knew him didn't see very much difference; there was no visible shell shock, no violence, no hysteria, nothing to suggest any kind of permanent damage in the decades before anyone understood post-traumatic stress disorder. But he was actually even quieter, even more distant, buried so deep in his own thoughts that he often didn't notice he hadn't done anything but work, sleep, and eat for weeks at a time without any days off. Nothing else seemed important.
There were also times when sleep was about all he did, sometimes for a few days in a row, but he didn't allow them often. He had no concept of working too hard, but he did know self-indulgence, and it still wasn't a weakness he wanted to develop.
The one person who probably could've drawn him out of his rut (which he couldn't quite recognize as one) hadn't returned from the war. He hadn't died, either, or at least had never made a casualty list or had a telegram delivered to his family, but Merriell Shelton hadn't been seen in Baton Rouge since things wrapped up in the South Pacific. No one reported having any contact with him. Eugene felt the lack of him like a persistent ache, one he soothed by keeping busy, as he did all the rest.
It worked until the day a slim young man with auburn hair, an accent that was too sharp-edged to be local, and a desperately sad look in his dark eyes appeared on Eugene's front step. Somehow he knew this was about Merriell, and even though he had no way of knowing if it was good news or bad news or any news at all, that achy spot tore in two and became an open wound.]
Mornin'. [He was still unfailingly polite even as his heart rate seemed to double, a ghost of a smile on his lips.] What can I do for ya?
[Sledge wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he'd come down to Louisiana. Did he actually think he'd be able to find Merriell? Clearly, he didn't want to be found and the ache and hole in his soul left by the way Shelton had left him seemed to cave in more with each failure in the search.
This was the last clue he had. There wasn't any way he'd know for sure if it was even the right person until he got there. He was exhausted in every way possible when he knocked on that door and at first when he came face to face with Eugene Roe he hesitated.
What was he supposed to say? How could he explain why he was looking so hard for Merriell when the war was long over and most people would have written off what he'd done.]
Eugene Sledge. [He introduced himself without much fanfare, studying the man briefly.] Do you know Merriell Shelton? [He hated that there was a pained desperate twinge in his voice.]
[The introduction left Roe silent for a few slow, owlish blinks of his eyes, brow furrowing so deeply that it was plainly one of his more common expressions. He was right, though: this was someone looking for Merriell, and just the sound of that name caused him to lose the struggle with all the sadness that wanted to overcome his features.]
Eugene Roe, but I think you already heard of me. [He stepped back, clearing the doorway for this other Eugene.] You better come in. Can I get you anything?
[The house was small, seeing as though he lived there alone, and cozy in a threadbare sort of way; not entirely ragged, and kept spotless and neat, but with the faded, worn quality of age in everything he owned.]
[As he stepped inside he reached out his hand to offer it in a shake even if it ended up half hearted if it was accepted. He should be happy that this man apparently knew who he was asking for but a part of him didn't feel like it was anything to start to feel good about. It was likely as not that he hadn't heard tale of that damned man either.]
He talked about you. [Sledge shook his head when the other offered to get him anything. He was just hoping against all hope that he knew something.] No thank you, I won't take much of your time either.
[Roe's mouth almost made it to a smile when Sledge offered his hand, and he gave it a good, brisk shake, but hearing that Merriell had talked about him while away at war made his features twist a little again. He swore he hadn't always been this raw, once too tightly controlled for anyone even to consider that he might feel emotional pain. Had the war done this?
After closing the door behind them, he moved to stand beside Sledge and found that he couldn't quite look the other man in the eye. Someone who served with him could probably claim the same closeness Roe himself did, even after a much shorter period of time; he knew full well how deep those fire-forged bonds ran.]
Far as anyone knows, he never came back. No one here's heard from him or seen him. [Then he swallowed hard and finally lifted his gaze to meet Sledge's, because there was something he needed to know.] You - saw him. After the war. You know he came through?
[There was pain that was clear as day on Roe's face for a moment that Sledge didn't know how exactly to interpret. He knew that it was possible he didn't want to know the answer either. He certainly had no intentions of asking. There was no doubt about that.]
He... [Sledge was shocked, staring at Roe as he processed what he'd just said. There was not going to be any answers for him here, that was now confirmed. He tried to school his features to hide the disappointment and pain that wasn't so much grief but something harsher.]
We were on the train home. When I woke up past his stop he was gone. That fucker didn't even bother coming home?
[Oh the train home. No question that Merriell survived, then.
Roe had to turn his head away for a moment, letting out a quick, sharp breath through his nostrils. Even without anything other than Merriell's absence to suggest he'd died, there seemed to have been a fear buried so deep within Roe that he didn't even know it himself until he nearly collapsed with relief at the good news.]
No. He ain't been home. Ain't the letter-writing type either, but... I guess you'd know that. [He didn't sound bitter when he said that, at least, apparently resigned to whatever closeness Sledge shared with Merriell no matter what his own status had been before the war. He did start to move further into the house, though, giving Sledge a look that was close to beseeching.]
I got all the time in the world for this, if you'll stay a bit longer.
[Sledge exhaled, shaking his head and this whole thing felt utterly stupid. Why'd he look this guy up, come knocking on his door on some far fetched idea he might have some idea where Shelton had disappeared to. The finality of this final option being snuffed out nearly cracked the carefully manicured calm expression he'd plastered over his face.]
No, he's definitely not the type. [His voice was tired, and he didn't understand the look Roe gave again. Maybe he just stubbornly didn't want to figure it out.]
I really was just trying to find him... He really just never came back? [Maybe he'd known Sledge would've come looking, not willing to let him go that easy.] You know him long? [He asked, despite himself.]
[All Roe needed was some sort of connection with Merriell for the first time in so long. His family weren't the sort Roe liked to talk to for more than the necessary check-ins, and his old crowd already hadn't absorbed Roe to any real degree before the war, so they wanted little to do with him when he lost all relevance to their lives. He would listen to stories from this man, he'd let him vent his fury, he'd sit with him in silence just knowing their thoughts were both on the same person. Anything, if only he'd stay.
But he'd already come closer to pleading than he liked. If Sledge didn't need the same thing, he wouldn't demand it. That question seemed like a hopeful sign, but he didn't even allow himself to cling to that too tightly.]
Ten years. [The little upward tug at the corners of his mouth was almost rueful, even though he'd never regret knowing Merriell, not even if he never saw him again.] Work brought me here all the time, an' i did a fair bit for his family. Dunno why, but we hit it off.
[Sledge face fell a bit more if it were even possible at that revelation. He rubbed his face trying to wipe away the hopelessness he felt had fallen over every fiber of his being.]
That asshole... [He mumbled under his breath and dropped his hand to look at Roe.] I don't know why I came here. He talked about you and you were the last shot at finding anything.
I don't mind your comin' here, Sledge. Don't see much of anyone outside of work lately.
[Yes, it had been a shock, and yes, it had hurt in a million ways. But now he was certain Merriell was alive - if that cussed bastard made it through the war and back to the United States, nothing here would kill him. That alone was a great gift Sledge had given him.
He couldn't ask for any more, not when Sledge looked so upset himself.]
I imagine you'll wanna be gettin' home, though, won't ya?
[There was a shrug to that question. He hadn't thought past trying to find Merriell and now going home to more nothing felt overwhelming.]
I suppose I should. [He nodded though, ever dutiful and his parents would expect him back and he couldn't near do the same to them that Merriell had seemingly done to everyone that cared about him.]
[No, he thought as soon as he realized that Sledge was ready to leave. No, he couldn't ask for more, but he could offer more - he didn't want this tenuous bond with Merriell to break yet. It could be the last one he ever knew.]
'Least lemme feed you first, for the trip home. I dunno how far it is, but it's better startin' any trip on a full belly. [He glanced away, a quiet little sniff serving as a laugh.] I ain't a great cook but everything always tastes like it oughta.
[Sledge was hungry. He'd forgotten to eat after he had breakfast at the hotel he'd been staying at and started the last day of the search he had committed to. In truth, despite the hunger he didn't have much appetite but it would also be rude to turn down the offer.]
Alright. Thank you. I'm sure you're a fine cook too.
[What impeccable manners this young man had, even when he'd obviously been running himself ragged with his desperate search for Merriell. It was a wonder to Roe that Merriell always managed to find types like this, that he seemed to prefer them, and that they took to him so easily...
... but that wasn't a line of thought he wanted to pursue. Neither of them knew anything about the other, and if Sledge wasn't asking, neither was Roe.]
Kitchen's through here. [He led Sledge over to a small table with a single chair on either side, which made it clear he didn't exactly entertain much, either. After a bit of bustling around, he had something in a casserole dish put into the oven for re-heating, the smell of strong spices and seafood filling the kitchen as it warmed.] Somethin' to drink?
Thank you again. [Sledge said, feeling weary as he followed him into the kitchen. He took a seat, watching as the other moved about and he couldn't help wondering if he'd been more than just a friend. Merriell had never been one good at giving important details about things.
Had he even known him at all? With the way he left he felt like a ghost, a figment of his imagination that he couldn't quite grasp at but could see the remaining wisp where he'd been. So he couldn't help thinking if he was the only person Merriell had done that to. It was cruel.]
Have any beer? [He questioned softly, he'd never been a huge drinker before the war but after he'd taken it up, his brother not aiding in helping him avoid that particular crutch.]
Sure do. [That was Roe's planned refreshment as well, leaving off the harder stuff (in which he didn't indulge too often either) until Sledge was gone. He had a feeling he'd have need of some help keeping himself together after this. He pulled two bottles from the fridge and got them both uncapped, setting Sledge's down in front of him before grabbing the seat across the table and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
Roe's hands were unusually graceful for a soldier's, or a veteran's in this case - graceful and unscarred, no lasting signs of deep calluses or blisters on his fingers, which seemed to dance through the process of getting his cigarette lit rather than simply moving. Once he'd taken a drag, he chased it with a pull of his beer, then met Sledge's eye again.]
Thank you. [Sledge murmured as eh stared at the beer and then lifted it to his lips for a large drink from it. Once his mind had wondered to that place about what Roe had been to Merriell it was harder to look at him at all and he stared at the bottle instead, and it wasn't long before condensation started to form on it. Idly he swiped his thumb over it
He looked up when he heard the question, meeting Roe's eyes.]
Yes. [He parted his lips like he wanted to say more but the words were stuck in his throat. What else was there to say?]
I was in Europe. Medic for the paratroopers. [Something close to a smile played on his lips, but never quite took hold.] "Doc Roe."
[This was about as uncomfortable as it could possibly be, he thought. It had seemed like Sledge was only demurring about staying longer out of politeness, and Roe had thought he could get a real chat out of this, but - there was something more. Even more than the possibility of Sledge just being as taciturn as Roe himself.
Lips pursing in thought, he glanced away before saying anything else.]
[Sledge took in the information and on a better day he would have had something good to say. He was articulate after all but he mostly was finding the desire to say much had left him. The time here had exhausted him and the idea of going home with the trip here a failure was weighing on him still.]
He mostly looked out for me. [Sledge amended, a hint of a smile on his lips.] I probably wouldn't have made it if I hadn't had him there.
[He will do that, Roe thought, but bit back the response in favour of sharing a real smile at the sight of Sledge's. There was a fondness in Sledge's voice now that could explain everything, if it meant what Roe thought it meant.
But this would have to be dealt with very, very carefully. It would first have to be verified very carefully, then dealt with even more so.]
Merriell don't have much to tie him here. He ain't close with his family and never had that many friends, not good ones. [He drew on his cigarette again, apparently unfazed by leaving himself off the list of things that might have tied Merriell to Baton Rouge.] I'd say to try New Orleans but you could be lookin' forever there.
I don't think he wants to be found. I doubt I'm going to be able to. [Sledge shook his head, taking a few more drinks of the beer.]
I never in a million years thought he would just disappear without a word, you know? [He'd never really talked about Merriell to anyone before but it was just as much the ghost of Merriell as the ghost of the war that kept him awake at night. One was just more understandable to people.]
If he don't want you to, you won't. [Roe agreed with that easily enough, although without quite the same even, placid tone as he'd said everything else. The true message in what he was saying was that Merriell had a way of getting exactly what he wanted, Sledge was right about that, and he often didn't concern himself with anyone else's desires. But that would be too cruel to say outright.
At the question, he shook his head and turned his gaze back to Sledge.]
I ain't heard from him since just before he left for training. [Lips pressed together pensively for a moment, he ashed his cigarette before continuing.] Always got the feeling from him that he was better at doin' things than talkin' about 'em, and that meant no goodbyes. Better just to get gone.
[Sledge sighed. It felt final to hear another that knew Merriell -- for longer even than he had -- say that. Sledge just just accept it was over and that what had happened in the war didn't mean anything to Merriell over here, he didn't need Sledge anymore. That thought train resulted in an ache that made his throat tighten and if he wasn't careful he'd end up sitting at this stranger's table crying.]
Sounds about right, I guess. [Sledge forced a smile before his eyes returned to the beer which was an easier subject to look at than Roe. He felt like Roe could see him a lot more clearly than he'd have wished in this situation.
He wished he could change the subject but what else did they have to talk about when Merriell was the whole reason he was there in the first place?]
[Roe was still watching Sledge as he turned away, could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with the working of his throat, and he knew his suspicions were correct. That fact only stirred up the same, familar ache in his own chest, except all the more acute for knowing that he'd been replaced as well as left behind - so why had he ever decided to play sleuth on this matter in the first place? Why not leave well enough alone?
Because Sledge was in his home, had come to him even if only for practical information on Merriell, not emotional support: now that he was here, the reasons were immaterial. Roe was in a position to offer comfort and so he would.
(The fact that Sledge was a tall, slender redhead with fine features and dark eyes that couldn't quite hide his true emotions seemed a bit unfair to Roe, although he refused to sink into self-pity over it. It was an extremely surface resemblance, much more in the details than the sum total. Acknowledging it felt like looking for reasons to nurse his wounds instead of mending those of another.)]
It was serious. [A statement, so that Sledge didn't have to answer if he didn't want to, or could deny more easily if he chose that path.] You and him. If he's runnin', that don't make it a lie, that proves it.
[Now that he'd laid such a powerful hand on the table between them in so few words, he felt it most considerate to stand up and check on the casserole (despite so little time having passed) rather than staying there, too physically close and emotionally distant for Sledge to feel like opening up at all.]
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timeasmymeasure
my ghost, where'd you go?
Date: 2016-09-30 04:53 am (UTC)Personally? He wasn't sure if anything would've helped out on that front. He'd always been a quiet, retiring sort, and that was no different now, so most people who knew him didn't see very much difference; there was no visible shell shock, no violence, no hysteria, nothing to suggest any kind of permanent damage in the decades before anyone understood post-traumatic stress disorder. But he was actually even quieter, even more distant, buried so deep in his own thoughts that he often didn't notice he hadn't done anything but work, sleep, and eat for weeks at a time without any days off. Nothing else seemed important.
There were also times when sleep was about all he did, sometimes for a few days in a row, but he didn't allow them often. He had no concept of working too hard, but he did know self-indulgence, and it still wasn't a weakness he wanted to develop.
The one person who probably could've drawn him out of his rut (which he couldn't quite recognize as one) hadn't returned from the war. He hadn't died, either, or at least had never made a casualty list or had a telegram delivered to his family, but Merriell Shelton hadn't been seen in Baton Rouge since things wrapped up in the South Pacific. No one reported having any contact with him. Eugene felt the lack of him like a persistent ache, one he soothed by keeping busy, as he did all the rest.
It worked until the day a slim young man with auburn hair, an accent that was too sharp-edged to be local, and a desperately sad look in his dark eyes appeared on Eugene's front step. Somehow he knew this was about Merriell, and even though he had no way of knowing if it was good news or bad news or any news at all, that achy spot tore in two and became an open wound.]
Mornin'. [He was still unfailingly polite even as his heart rate seemed to double, a ghost of a smile on his lips.] What can I do for ya?
whoa this name stuff could get confusing
Date: 2016-09-30 06:48 am (UTC)This was the last clue he had. There wasn't any way he'd know for sure if it was even the right person until he got there. He was exhausted in every way possible when he knocked on that door and at first when he came face to face with Eugene Roe he hesitated.
What was he supposed to say? How could he explain why he was looking so hard for Merriell when the war was long over and most people would have written off what he'd done.]
Eugene Sledge. [He introduced himself without much fanfare, studying the man briefly.] Do you know Merriell Shelton? [He hated that there was a pained desperate twinge in his voice.]
i'll switch it up
Date: 2016-09-30 06:57 am (UTC)Eugene Roe, but I think you already heard of me. [He stepped back, clearing the doorway for this other Eugene.] You better come in. Can I get you anything?
[The house was small, seeing as though he lived there alone, and cozy in a threadbare sort of way; not entirely ragged, and kept spotless and neat, but with the faded, worn quality of age in everything he owned.]
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Date: 2016-09-30 07:26 am (UTC)He talked about you. [Sledge shook his head when the other offered to get him anything. He was just hoping against all hope that he knew something.] No thank you, I won't take much of your time either.
Is he around here anymore... since the war?
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Date: 2016-09-30 07:34 am (UTC)After closing the door behind them, he moved to stand beside Sledge and found that he couldn't quite look the other man in the eye. Someone who served with him could probably claim the same closeness Roe himself did, even after a much shorter period of time; he knew full well how deep those fire-forged bonds ran.]
Far as anyone knows, he never came back. No one here's heard from him or seen him. [Then he swallowed hard and finally lifted his gaze to meet Sledge's, because there was something he needed to know.] You - saw him. After the war. You know he came through?
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Date: 2016-09-30 07:41 am (UTC)He... [Sledge was shocked, staring at Roe as he processed what he'd just said. There was not going to be any answers for him here, that was now confirmed. He tried to school his features to hide the disappointment and pain that wasn't so much grief but something harsher.]
We were on the train home. When I woke up past his stop he was gone. That fucker didn't even bother coming home?
[Was he okay?]
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Date: 2016-09-30 07:52 am (UTC)Roe had to turn his head away for a moment, letting out a quick, sharp breath through his nostrils. Even without anything other than Merriell's absence to suggest he'd died, there seemed to have been a fear buried so deep within Roe that he didn't even know it himself until he nearly collapsed with relief at the good news.]
No. He ain't been home. Ain't the letter-writing type either, but... I guess you'd know that. [He didn't sound bitter when he said that, at least, apparently resigned to whatever closeness Sledge shared with Merriell no matter what his own status had been before the war. He did start to move further into the house, though, giving Sledge a look that was close to beseeching.]
I got all the time in the world for this, if you'll stay a bit longer.
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Date: 2016-09-30 12:08 pm (UTC)No, he's definitely not the type. [His voice was tired, and he didn't understand the look Roe gave again. Maybe he just stubbornly didn't want to figure it out.]
I really was just trying to find him... He really just never came back? [Maybe he'd known Sledge would've come looking, not willing to let him go that easy.] You know him long? [He asked, despite himself.]
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Date: 2016-09-30 08:57 pm (UTC)But he'd already come closer to pleading than he liked. If Sledge didn't need the same thing, he wouldn't demand it. That question seemed like a hopeful sign, but he didn't even allow himself to cling to that too tightly.]
Ten years. [The little upward tug at the corners of his mouth was almost rueful, even though he'd never regret knowing Merriell, not even if he never saw him again.] Work brought me here all the time, an' i did a fair bit for his family. Dunno why, but we hit it off.
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Date: 2016-09-30 09:50 pm (UTC)That asshole... [He mumbled under his breath and dropped his hand to look at Roe.] I don't know why I came here. He talked about you and you were the last shot at finding anything.
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Date: 2016-09-30 10:28 pm (UTC)[Yes, it had been a shock, and yes, it had hurt in a million ways. But now he was certain Merriell was alive - if that cussed bastard made it through the war and back to the United States, nothing here would kill him. That alone was a great gift Sledge had given him.
He couldn't ask for any more, not when Sledge looked so upset himself.]
I imagine you'll wanna be gettin' home, though, won't ya?
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Date: 2016-09-30 11:08 pm (UTC)I suppose I should. [He nodded though, ever dutiful and his parents would expect him back and he couldn't near do the same to them that Merriell had seemingly done to everyone that cared about him.]
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Date: 2016-09-30 11:16 pm (UTC)'Least lemme feed you first, for the trip home. I dunno how far it is, but it's better startin' any trip on a full belly. [He glanced away, a quiet little sniff serving as a laugh.] I ain't a great cook but everything always tastes like it oughta.
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Date: 2016-10-01 06:10 am (UTC)Alright. Thank you. I'm sure you're a fine cook too.
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Date: 2016-10-02 02:39 pm (UTC)... but that wasn't a line of thought he wanted to pursue. Neither of them knew anything about the other, and if Sledge wasn't asking, neither was Roe.]
Kitchen's through here. [He led Sledge over to a small table with a single chair on either side, which made it clear he didn't exactly entertain much, either. After a bit of bustling around, he had something in a casserole dish put into the oven for re-heating, the smell of strong spices and seafood filling the kitchen as it warmed.] Somethin' to drink?
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Date: 2016-10-02 06:58 pm (UTC)Had he even known him at all? With the way he left he felt like a ghost, a figment of his imagination that he couldn't quite grasp at but could see the remaining wisp where he'd been. So he couldn't help thinking if he was the only person Merriell had done that to. It was cruel.]
Have any beer? [He questioned softly, he'd never been a huge drinker before the war but after he'd taken it up, his brother not aiding in helping him avoid that particular crutch.]
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Date: 2016-10-02 07:15 pm (UTC)Roe's hands were unusually graceful for a soldier's, or a veteran's in this case - graceful and unscarred, no lasting signs of deep calluses or blisters on his fingers, which seemed to dance through the process of getting his cigarette lit rather than simply moving. Once he'd taken a drag, he chased it with a pull of his beer, then met Sledge's eye again.]
You two serve together?
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Date: 2016-10-03 12:55 am (UTC)He looked up when he heard the question, meeting Roe's eyes.]
Yes. [He parted his lips like he wanted to say more but the words were stuck in his throat. What else was there to say?]
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Date: 2016-10-03 01:08 am (UTC)[This was about as uncomfortable as it could possibly be, he thought. It had seemed like Sledge was only demurring about staying longer out of politeness, and Roe had thought he could get a real chat out of this, but - there was something more. Even more than the possibility of Sledge just being as taciturn as Roe himself.
Lips pursing in thought, he glanced away before saying anything else.]
Glad he had someone lookin' out for him.
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Date: 2016-10-03 01:13 am (UTC)He mostly looked out for me. [Sledge amended, a hint of a smile on his lips.] I probably wouldn't have made it if I hadn't had him there.
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Date: 2016-10-03 01:23 am (UTC)But this would have to be dealt with very, very carefully. It would first have to be verified very carefully, then dealt with even more so.]
Merriell don't have much to tie him here. He ain't close with his family and never had that many friends, not good ones. [He drew on his cigarette again, apparently unfazed by leaving himself off the list of things that might have tied Merriell to Baton Rouge.] I'd say to try New Orleans but you could be lookin' forever there.
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Date: 2016-10-03 08:52 pm (UTC)I never in a million years thought he would just disappear without a word, you know? [He'd never really talked about Merriell to anyone before but it was just as much the ghost of Merriell as the ghost of the war that kept him awake at night. One was just more understandable to people.]
You didn't even know if he made it back, huh?
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Date: 2016-10-03 09:12 pm (UTC)At the question, he shook his head and turned his gaze back to Sledge.]
I ain't heard from him since just before he left for training. [Lips pressed together pensively for a moment, he ashed his cigarette before continuing.] Always got the feeling from him that he was better at doin' things than talkin' about 'em, and that meant no goodbyes. Better just to get gone.
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Date: 2016-10-04 12:50 am (UTC)Sounds about right, I guess. [Sledge forced a smile before his eyes returned to the beer which was an easier subject to look at than Roe. He felt like Roe could see him a lot more clearly than he'd have wished in this situation.
He wished he could change the subject but what else did they have to talk about when Merriell was the whole reason he was there in the first place?]
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Date: 2016-10-04 02:39 am (UTC)Because Sledge was in his home, had come to him even if only for practical information on Merriell, not emotional support: now that he was here, the reasons were immaterial. Roe was in a position to offer comfort and so he would.
(The fact that Sledge was a tall, slender redhead with fine features and dark eyes that couldn't quite hide his true emotions seemed a bit unfair to Roe, although he refused to sink into self-pity over it. It was an extremely surface resemblance, much more in the details than the sum total. Acknowledging it felt like looking for reasons to nurse his wounds instead of mending those of another.)]
It was serious. [A statement, so that Sledge didn't have to answer if he didn't want to, or could deny more easily if he chose that path.] You and him. If he's runnin', that don't make it a lie, that proves it.
[Now that he'd laid such a powerful hand on the table between them in so few words, he felt it most considerate to stand up and check on the casserole (despite so little time having passed) rather than staying there, too physically close and emotionally distant for Sledge to feel like opening up at all.]
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