No stranger to loss

[hnb_hustler]

Hunter hadn't seen Michael every day, or even weekly. They did their own things, they sometimes sat with each other at meals and sometimes not. Michael gave him his space while making sure Hunter knew he was always there if he needed him. He was old enough to take care of himself, but he had a family, as fractured and reassembled as the island had

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[wizard_errant]

"Right," Dairine says, flopping down onto the sand next to him. She'd been down the beach a bit, and before she made it all the way over to say hi, had seen the stomping stride and the angry rock-throwing and put, well, the beginning of the equation together, anyway. "What's wrong?"

[hnb_hustler]

Hunter glanced at her and then away again, jaw tightening. "Michael's gone," he said through clenched teeth. "Brian, too." They'd all gone back home and left him here.

[wizard_errant]

"Oh," Dairine says, in what for her is a particularly sympathetic voice. "Wow. Shit. Sorry, that sucks."

[hnb_hustler]

"Whatever. It happens, right? It's not like I need them." He sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him, squinting up at the insultingly cheerful blue sky. "I've been on my own for years. At least here I don't have to hustle to eat..."

[wizard_errant]

Dairine snorts. "Better not." It's halfhearted at best; it's not like she thinks he was suddenly about to consider the possibility again. "Yeah, it happens. And you don't need 'em. But it was nice having 'em around and it sucks. Sorry." And there it is, really--an opportunity to talk about it, or to change the subject. It could go either way.

[hnb_hustler]

"No intention, trust me." He shrugged at the rest of what she said, trying not to care and mostly failing. "And I mean--it's not like things were the same as they were back home. I'd already lost my dad, when I showed up here." Now he'd just lost him twice, kinda.

[wizard_errant]

"Yeah," Dairine says, but doesn't sound any more convinced than he does. It's not the same, but sometimes a dad who's trying is better than none at all. "...You gonna be okay?"

[hnb_hustler]

"I guess." Hunter rolled his eyes and looked at Dairine. "I mean, what fucking choice do I have? I'm not gonna off myself, or lock myself in my fucking bedroom without showering, or spend all day writing shitty emo poetry."

[wizard_errant]

"That's good," Dairine says. "Cause the world so does not need any more crappy emo poetry."

[hnb_hustler]

"No shit," Hunter agreed with the first hint of a smile. "I like to think I have better taste than that, no matter what happens."

[wizard_errant]

Dairine nudges him lightly. "Well, just in case, if you want to start wearing black and hole up in your room, we can probably track down some Death Cab for Cutie...."

[hnb_hustler]

"I'll keep it in mind as an option," Hunter promised her dryly. He sighed and stood up, brushing the sand from his ass. "Come on, this is fucking lame. Let's do something. I don't want to just sit here."

[wizard_errant]

"Good," Dairine says, with a rather relieved sigh, and throws herself to her feet. "Inside or outside? We could make some sandwiches and take the bikes out or something."

[hnb_hustler]

"Food and bikes? That's a hard offer to pass up," Hunter pointed out, giving her a faint grin. "Let's do it. Sandwiches and fast bikes. And maybe a swim later to cool off."

[wizard_errant]

Dairine is a genius, after all. And she might not be very good at this whole comforting gig, in general, but the cool thing about being friends with Hunter is that he thinks that's all crap anyway and she doesn't have to be. They deal with things in similar ways. "See? We are geniuses. It's a flaw-proof plan."

[hnb_hustler]

"Of course we are." He still wasn't his usual cocky self, but he was trying, anyway. "Let's get those fuckin' sandwiches made, then," he said, heading for the compound.