(Untitled)

[manusgemini]

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[blackhole_heart]

It's strange, being grounded suddenly after so many months on the move. In the black, it's always night, and even though the low hum of the engines is the only evidence that you're moving at all, having the ground solid under your feet is more of a change than you might expect

[manusgemini]

"Taste good enough, don't they?" He pulls his scarf down far enough to say it and pushes inside, kicking the door shut behind him and stomping snow off his boots. There's a small depression in front of the door; a short step up into the main room, to keep the puddles that always form there from trickling into the rest of the place.

He toes off his boots and steps up and toward the corner of the main room that serves as the kitchen, parka still on, the things dangling from his hand by their white tails.

"I'll take 'em out and clean 'em in a second. Can't feel my fucking toes."

[blackhole_heart]

"You're gonna get blood on our nice carpet," I say, a teasing smirk barely hidden on my face as I double check the seal on the door, shredding my own coat and hanging it up by the hook just inside.

"Come on, sit down by the heater. Your fuckin' toes fall off, we'll be in trouble."

[manusgemini]

He knows from long experience that once he starts to warm up, once he starts to really feel the ache in his bones, it'll be twice as hard to go back out there again, even for a few relatively brief moments. But he leaves the hoppers in the cracked sink and turns toward the heater, pulling off his gloves and rubbing his chapped hands together.

"I'm thinking of getting everything replaced anyway," he mutters. "The shit I was born with is too fucking unreliable."

And in fact, it's probably a little ironic that his bionic leg is pretty much the only thing that feels perfectly fine.