Outsider's HQ, late night in the gym
The base is nearly empty. Tara is around somewhere, Trevor believes, throwing herself head-first into her work, and Sand lives on base, but everyone else is gone. Chimp is probably drinking himself stupid, Caleb's probably already looking into lawyers for Amelia, Travis is God-knows-where, and as Trevor tries to concentrate on the movement and flow
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"If you're emotions have caused a rift between us, then it's maintained entirely by you. You were my best friend in November of 2005, and as far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed. And that is most assuredly not lip service." He allows for a few quiet seconds, in hopes of that sinking in.
"As for the rest..." His hands are back through his hair. They hit a knot, but he just pushes them through, heedless of the pain. "... I'd find a way to come to terms with it. You were used. If you stay in this line of work, you almost certainly will be again. It ..."
Sod it.
"It blows beyond the telling of it, and if there's anything I can do to help, I'm yours. You know that. But if you can come to terms with this sort of ... of occupational hazard, I've always felt that you're going to be one of the best of us one day. And I don't just mean of the Outsiders, I mean of us all."
A reassuring hand finds Trevor's shoulder. "Just as soon as you get yourself sorted out, and stop thinking of yourself as a liability, you silly git."
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"Yeah, Phillip thought I was a silly git, too. Then he thought he should run away."
The smirk fades, but Trevor's mood is miles from where it was before.
"Thanks. That does mean a lot, man. And don't worry about you and me. 'Bros before hos' as the street-corner philosophers in the Slum like to say."
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“Get some food, Hotshot.” Then his first genuine chuckle. “And if you come to the meeting tomorrow without a good night’s rest, we’re going to have another go.” He makes two fists to accompany the momentarily angry expression.
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