[Alan's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but it's starting to fit into place as he regards her unflinchingly.]
You mean...messing with me.
[His tone is matter of fact, sure...bleak in its pragmatism, as if someone screwing with his head, his heart, his life in general is par for the course, something he's used to. It doesn't seem to faze him...it's all a knife that just slides a little deeper into him, but at this point it's familiar.
At least, these days, he has his pack to lean on when the wound gets sore.
With a deep breath, Alan steadies himself, his hands sliding off Lydia's shoulders to rub her arms, brisk but gentle...instinctively trying to reassure her despite the fact that he's the one that feels off-kilter.]
The clothes in my room...now this...it's me, isn't it? Flood's not fucking with our cabins, it did something to me. Just tell me, Lyds...I can take it.
[BFF Spam]
You mean...messing with me.
[His tone is matter of fact, sure...bleak in its pragmatism, as if someone screwing with his head, his heart, his life in general is par for the course, something he's used to. It doesn't seem to faze him...it's all a knife that just slides a little deeper into him, but at this point it's familiar.
At least, these days, he has his pack to lean on when the wound gets sore.
With a deep breath, Alan steadies himself, his hands sliding off Lydia's shoulders to rub her arms, brisk but gentle...instinctively trying to reassure her despite the fact that he's the one that feels off-kilter.]
The clothes in my room...now this...it's me, isn't it? Flood's not fucking with our cabins, it did something to me. Just tell me, Lyds...I can take it.