(no subject)
It's not that he's consciously trying to count the days since he got here, but it just seems to happen, like a nagging in the back of his mind, adding onto the mounting confusion and frustration that he's not willing to own up to. The number's useless anyway, doesn't change anything one way or the other.
Doesn't stop him from waking up every morning with that number one higher.
He sits on the dock, legs dangling over the side, bare feet skimming over the surface of the water, his hands tucked under his thighs and body hunched forward. His hearing isn't like it used to be, but sound carries over the water and there are footsteps behind him, making him tense and straighten up instinctively, head turning to look back over his shoulder.
"Losin' your edge there, Max," he says, voice quiet, feigning boredom.
Doesn't stop him from waking up every morning with that number one higher.
He sits on the dock, legs dangling over the side, bare feet skimming over the surface of the water, his hands tucked under his thighs and body hunched forward. His hearing isn't like it used to be, but sound carries over the water and there are footsteps behind him, making him tense and straighten up instinctively, head turning to look back over his shoulder.
"Losin' your edge there, Max," he says, voice quiet, feigning boredom.