(Untitled)

[milkbonesoldier]

Some days are better than others, and some are far, far worse. Wells knew from the moment he woke up this morning that today was going to be one of the bad ones. That's why he slipped away from Annie while she still slept, and why he came here. Oh, sure, he could pummel the heavy bag in his basement, he got one of those a while ago just in case-

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[fathers_cleric]

John Preston wants to apologize. But he's not sure how to do it.

He stills thinks Wells is wrong. He still things that their worlds are far too different, and that his concept of what could happen is still very different from what actually will.

But he's a bit more understanding as far as treachery is concerned.

So after a few moments of watching he says, "-Grima Wormtongue."

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells was in the middle of one of those fits he occasionally has where he treats the heavy bag as if it were the speed bag instead. They're murder on the knuckles, but he heals it eventually, so he's never seen any reason not to push in that direction.

He wasn't expecting anyone to speak to him. When he's at the pistol range, his concentration collapses the world down to an absolute minimum: in front of you, within range, and a little to either side. Everything outside that tends to be written off unless it moves into the cone of possible strikes. He was concentrating just so when Preston walked into the vicinity, so when Preston spoke, he froze. It takes him a minute to realise two things: one, that his hand stopped a bare millimeter from the bag, and two, that whatever was said was being addressed to him.

He looks up and over, otherwise not moving. "Beg your pardon?"

[fathers_cleric]

Preston is...impressed.

He's not that good. But then again Wells is wells, and well-

The image of Father, with that expression is enough to send both Preston and his mun into fits of laughter.

Preston however, coughs, "-Grima Wormtongue betrayed Rohan's riders. They thought he was their friend, and then Gandalf revealed his falsehood."

How best to explain?

"....Clearly-individuals in remote positions of power are capable of treachery. Not just leaders."

This is John Preston without Dupont (At least, not yet). He-technically-has never been lied to. At least about who to consider the ultimate evil.

[milkbonesoldier]

If it's the expression in the previous icon, the laughter should be even more impressive. That's Macbeth, the night of Duncan's murder.

Anyway.

Wells drops his hand with a grunt. "Yeah, that's so," he says. "Just figured it out now, did you?"

[fathers_cleric]

Preston lowers his head.

"....You're still wrong. But I won't put anything past pre-librians. Humanity...Humanity in all shapes and sizes is proving more complex then I wanted to believe."

[milkbonesoldier]

That gets a snort. "It's a start," he mutters. "Mark my words, though, Preston- one of these days you're going to find out that not even Libria could change human nature, and while you might've got the good side its chance to be free, you're going to have to deal with the shit as well."

He's still feeling just a mite prickly at being dismissed along with all the rest of the 'pre-Librians', whether he's said it or not.

[fathers_cleric]

Preston swallowed.

"...I concede possibility. I should not-I should not have been so judgemental."

Another pause, "...It's a habit I've found very hard to shake...Everyone's either with us or against us-"

Comes from living in a Dystopian World and being one of the Secret Police, "...and I wanted you to know I'm sorry."

He really is.

[milkbonesoldier]

That, he hadn't expected.

Wells turns his eyes away from the other man for a moment, looking down at his fist; he flexes his fingers, turns the hand over. It's a gesture he picked up from the other form, though he doesn't know it (and would likely be horrified by if he knew). Mostly it's just to give him time to think.

"Suppose I can't blame you too much for that," he says gruffly.

[fathers_cleric]

"You're still incorrect about numerous things-" Preston said bluntly, "...But-I should not have reacted to you in such a way-I should have listened, it was very-" Pre-Librian "...Impolite."

He indicates the punching bag, "-Wouldn't it be healthier to excercise indoors?"

[milkbonesoldier]

Another grunt. "Never claimed to be right about everything, lad. Annie'd catch me a right ding about the ears if she heard I was doing that."

He glances at the bag and shrugs. "I've never taken harm by exercising out here," he says. "And I'm not so fond of being boxed in these days. Besides, from here I can take to running if I want. There's a four-hundred-meter oval marked out over there." He nods in the general direction of where his soccer field had been. "Might do that yet."

[fathers_cleric]

"....Impressive." Preston blinks, "-...Reminds me of the arena at home."

In the scriptwhut.

[milkbonesoldier]

"I'm going to assume you mean in terms of size. Not like I put much effort into it beyond the distance markers." He wrinkles his nose. "I'm still not up to my old speed. Fucking lung damage. It'll take me months to get back to where I used to be."

[fathers_cleric]

"-No, I mean outside-" Preston frowns, "...Father would hold group "exercises" out in the arena, having citizens observe our kata."

Not just a warform, but an art form?

"...Lung Damage?"

[milkbonesoldier]

"From the island," says Wells, and then- "You didn't know? They had to pull me out of the island half-conscious 'cos the bastards put aerosol silver solution in the air sanitisers. I got a lungful of the one thing guaranteed to do me lasting harm. 's getting better, but it's still fucking awful compared to before."

[fathers_cleric]

"-No-I-"

Preston's mun had lost track, "...I'm sorry, I wasn't-I lost track of what'd happened. Sort of turned into a blur."

Insert a sheepish grin and a solid 4th wall promise to Kill his mun

[milkbonesoldier]

Wells shrugs. "You weren't with my squad, so you didn't see. They tell me I spent three days unconscious after. It'll get better eventually- at least, it'd better. I fucking well intend to break the four-minute mile again."