Llewellyn Watts (
pocketpretzels) wrote2022-06-27 06:53 am
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MHA #15, Monday Evening
As had become habit over the past few months, on Monday evening Watts found himself seated at his kitchen table surrounded by a stack of paper as he wrote to folks back in Toronto.
The most detailed letter went to the Detective and Dr. Ogden, as per usual, given that the former had experience here and thus Watts could be entirely honest about the things he'd seen and done. Less detailed were the missives sent to George Crabtree and Mrs. Hart. And finally, this week, there was a short note he owed Miss Louise Cherry, who'd written him recently expressing doubt that this address was even real. So he was writing back to assure her that no, no one had killed him in a fit of exasperation and he was in fact alive and well, just in Baltimore rather than Toronto.
It was slow going, of course, as he was making an effort to keep his writing as legible as possible. Even then, there had been more than a few sheets he'd had to discard entirely, and the wastepaper basket was starting to fill up.
[ooc: for the neighbour! that he came over is ok to mention, details NFB please.]
The most detailed letter went to the Detective and Dr. Ogden, as per usual, given that the former had experience here and thus Watts could be entirely honest about the things he'd seen and done. Less detailed were the missives sent to George Crabtree and Mrs. Hart. And finally, this week, there was a short note he owed Miss Louise Cherry, who'd written him recently expressing doubt that this address was even real. So he was writing back to assure her that no, no one had killed him in a fit of exasperation and he was in fact alive and well, just in Baltimore rather than Toronto.
It was slow going, of course, as he was making an effort to keep his writing as legible as possible. Even then, there had been more than a few sheets he'd had to discard entirely, and the wastepaper basket was starting to fill up.
[ooc: for the neighbour! that he came over is ok to mention, details NFB please.]
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"Which is why you ought to give yourself the chance," Watts pointed out. Reasonably.
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Also Marc really could not stress how much he was tired of waiting for certain pennies to drop as far as Steven's awareness of things. Case in point.
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Looking back on it, the way Steven had apparently startled awake despite his eyes already being open, the way he'd spoken aloud to Marc despite the other man (seemingly) not being there... Well. It seemed almost obvious, except for how it was never a conclusion Watts would've thought to arrive at.
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Steven sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "It's a mess. I know it is. It's a mess for us as well but I know that's not helpful to hear."
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But he wasn't going to pry. Not his place.
"No way to go but forward, anyhow," Watts said.
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Steven trailed off. There were things he wanted to say, like hopes he and Watts could at least continue to be friends, or one day again be friends if Watts was all right after having time to think about it. But those rang hollow. They weren't fully true, and it wasn't his place to ask for anything more than understanding right now anyway.
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He could push those aside. Had done so before, could do it again.
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"It wasn't you, honest," Steven said. "I mean thank you for telling me. I want to know. But it was me. I was sloppy. And scared. And selfish. I rather liked spending time with you as well, you see."
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"Well, good. Then we can continue. To be friends."
Even if Steven's nonverbal reaction there was just enough to ignite the tiniest of sparks in Watts's own chest.
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