"We need to talk," Signless tells Guy when he gets back to camp after a day's scouting. He hasn't left since he lost his leg entirely, even though Guy offered to help him walk, because he knew he'd just be a liability. They have one blanket between them, again thanks to Guy's luck at the Cornucopia, and if they stuff the undershirts from their uniforms into the backpack it came in they even have a makeshift pillow.
"About what?" says Guy, settling in next to the blanket nest to clean his knife on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
"About how few people are left. About who's going to win this arena. It can't be both of us, Guy--"
"I know." Guy looks down at his knife like it's personally wronged him. He's not pleased about the fact that one of them has to die eventually either, apparently.
With an effort, Signless reaches out a hand and sets it on Guy's knee. They bandaged his leg as best they could but he's still exhausted and hungry and he's lost a lot of blood; even doing small things like that is difficult for him right now.
"I think you should be the one to win. You shouldn't have to do this anymore. And I don't think there's anyone else here I'd want to be the one to kill me, either." He squeezes Guy's knee gently. "And you need to eat."
Guy very slowly puts down his knife, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Then he wiggles his way under the blanket, pressing as close as he can because it's a blanket made for one person and since the steam pipes stopped working a day ago it's been uncomfortably cold at night. Or maybe he just needs comfort. Either way Signless wraps him up in his arms, nuzzles against his unruly hair.
"It'll be okay. It's not wrong of you if you have my permission."
Guy laughs, a kind of hollow hiccup-y laugh. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be. Can I think about it though? Kind of some heavy stuff we're dealing with here, after all. Death. Murder. Eating your friends. I need to maybe sleep on that."
"Shooosh," Signless murmurs. "Shoosh." He brushes his fingers against Guy's cheek, a sort-of pap, because he can't go too long as someone's friend without feeling pale toward them and Guy is no exception. If anyone needs emotional support right now, it's Guy Crood. It doesn't matter that this blanket and makeshift pillow aren't exactly a pile and Guy probably doesn't understand exactly the kind of romantic gesture he's the recipient of. If they both come back alive from the arena maybe Signless will explain.
"You sleep. It can wait until tomorrow."
The intercom tells them there's only six tributes left. The vats in the lower levels are flooding and left unchecked the chemicals will rise until the only safe level is the top floor. No matter what happens tomorrow, they'll have to move. Guy doesn't say anything, but neither of them manage to sleep. Signless spends the whole night stroking Guy's cheek and hair, and Guy doesn't make him stop.
--
((DID I SAY PART ONE OF TWO I MEANT TWO OF THREE, CONGRATULATIONS))
CWs continue even though nothing actually happens in this bit
"About what?" says Guy, settling in next to the blanket nest to clean his knife on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
"About how few people are left. About who's going to win this arena. It can't be both of us, Guy--"
"I know." Guy looks down at his knife like it's personally wronged him. He's not pleased about the fact that one of them has to die eventually either, apparently.
With an effort, Signless reaches out a hand and sets it on Guy's knee. They bandaged his leg as best they could but he's still exhausted and hungry and he's lost a lot of blood; even doing small things like that is difficult for him right now.
"I think you should be the one to win. You shouldn't have to do this anymore. And I don't think there's anyone else here I'd want to be the one to kill me, either." He squeezes Guy's knee gently. "And you need to eat."
Guy very slowly puts down his knife, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Then he wiggles his way under the blanket, pressing as close as he can because it's a blanket made for one person and since the steam pipes stopped working a day ago it's been uncomfortably cold at night. Or maybe he just needs comfort. Either way Signless wraps him up in his arms, nuzzles against his unruly hair.
"It'll be okay. It's not wrong of you if you have my permission."
Guy laughs, a kind of hollow hiccup-y laugh. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be. Can I think about it though? Kind of some heavy stuff we're dealing with here, after all. Death. Murder. Eating your friends. I need to maybe sleep on that."
"Shooosh," Signless murmurs. "Shoosh." He brushes his fingers against Guy's cheek, a sort-of pap, because he can't go too long as someone's friend without feeling pale toward them and Guy is no exception. If anyone needs emotional support right now, it's Guy Crood. It doesn't matter that this blanket and makeshift pillow aren't exactly a pile and Guy probably doesn't understand exactly the kind of romantic gesture he's the recipient of. If they both come back alive from the arena maybe Signless will explain.
"You sleep. It can wait until tomorrow."
The intercom tells them there's only six tributes left. The vats in the lower levels are flooding and left unchecked the chemicals will rise until the only safe level is the top floor. No matter what happens tomorrow, they'll have to move. Guy doesn't say anything, but neither of them manage to sleep. Signless spends the whole night stroking Guy's cheek and hair, and Guy doesn't make him stop.
--
((DID I SAY PART ONE OF TWO I MEANT TWO OF THREE, CONGRATULATIONS))