SATURDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL (The World)

[gluttoning]

[FOOTBALL NOISES

aka this for IRL football watching or any communications outside Fragment. Yay football. :)]

Comments

[tylorific]

I still don't think I understand that part. Why do people expect me to be so mad all the time? Does not crying or not getting mad make the rest of my feelings matter less?

[ There's no heat in it, just innocent curiosity that drifts. ]

But I'm not choosing, I'm not even trying to not be mad. I can just, usually understand why people might do things.

[ Tylor squeezes his hand at that, not caring about the color thats probably blotting his own palm. ] Thanks. Then I'll keep trying.

Oh, but let's see--how about: what's something you've always wanted to ask someone but never have? Can be anything.

[gluttoning]

...Did someone tell you that? That your other feelings matter less?

[He wouldn't say that in the slightest. It's not that he should or shouldn't feel certain ways. It's that he doesn't seem to feel anything BUT one way about everything, no matter the context, that makes him concerning.

Was there something out there that could be called "being too happy"? Barrett doesn't know. He's too tired to think about it. But he has to wonder if they'd look an awful lot like Tylor.]

...I don't know. Just 'cause you understand doesn't mean you just stop feeling things. Maybe being patient is just easier for you?

[It's well out of what he has the mental depth for, though. He's exhausted and on painkillers, and already doesn't know what to do with this conversation.

The distraction of a question suggestion is heavily welcomed, though he looks a little overwhelmed at the request for a moment.]

I... I don't really know. I ask a lot of things when they come to mind. And that's a lot of people...

[tylorific]

Not in so many words. Maybe I am too patient, but is that such a bad thing? Being angry isn't very much fun either.

[ But Tylor is all smiles when he thinks of his next idea-- ]

Okay then, pretend you have to pick a question to diffuse a big bomb. What's the first one you think of asking me?

[ Tylor waits a beat, then starts counting down in a whisper from ten. ]

Nine, eight...

[gluttoning]

It's not. But I think it's important sometimes. I wouldn't be able to protect my family if I couldn't feel angry.

I think... it's just a way we tell ourselves we're not ready to accept something.

[It's quiet, the way the statement rolls out, glancing at his leg in an almost sullen way before Tylor immediately grabs his attention.]

Wait, what-- [Oh, but there's a timer. His eyes frantically flit to his lap in thought.]

Uh... mmm...

[Four, three--]

What did you want to be the most when you were a kid?

[tylorific]

Maybe you're right. But... I think I'd give up pretty much anything for the people I care about.

I don't think I'd be angry though. [ A shrug. ] things can hurt, but I don't really know how to be that mad.

[ But then he's counting and Bear is attempting a question. Tylor gives him a big smile for it, answer coming without much thought-- ]

An astronaut.

[ A little laugh, this time he remembers to muffle it. ]

See? That wasn't so hard, was it? You can ask me anything, and I'll answer you.

[ With that, he turns back to the cast, with one last parting squeeze of his hand. Settling careful against him again, looking down at his handiwork and choosing from the colors he'd grabbed. A hum, a beat, and he offers up-- ]

My dad was one.

[gluttoning]

...I don't think you should have to. People that love you wouldn't want you to give up anything unless it was bad for you. But... I get it. [The loved ones always come first. Even to personal detriment.

Barrett lets Tylor return to his work, looking down at the flooded ink of a mess his own picture had become. Mn. Should he even continue? It feels like a waste not to...

He tries to pick out another color, taking his time, watching the ink stain on his own palms change shape as he works.]

Is that why you wanted to be one? To be like your dad?