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[devoutish]

Yeah?

[That's it, that's all you get.]

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[devoutish]

[It's times like this that Alfie feels the most powerless - more than when he thinks about how he'll likely never get home, more than when his body is being forced to act against him, more than when some building or another is transplanting its own intrusive thoughts into his mind. At least then he has a clear-cut reason for why he's so useless; at least then he has something concrete to fight against. Trying to fight Royce's depression is like trying to catch smoke.]

Doesn't make me think any less of you.

[He murmurs huskily, brushing a tear away with his thumb.]

[bywolves]

I know.

[ He whispers it. Because he does know, he really does. Alfie doesn't ever look down at him, and he knows he's not being judged for crying. It's a good thing, too, because he can't help it. The tears just come. It's a steady stream down the sides of his face, wiped away by Alfie only to come right back. Royce doesn't sob, but. It hurts enough that he can't stop. ]

I don't want to feel this way anymore.

[devoutish]

What can I do? I'll do anything, Royce.

[bywolves]

I don't know. [ He sounds defeated. His voice breaks. ] If I knew what to do, I'd do it.

[devoutish]

All I can do is sit here like this. Talk to you. Make you talk back.

[bywolves]

[ He coughs a bit, choking just a bit on his tears. ]

S'better. Better than nothing. It's. I need you to make me talk.

[devoutish]

Tell me a story, then.

[bywolves]

I don't - I don't know. [ Royce says, voice breaking again. He reaches to hold onto the front of Alfie's shirt. ] About what?

[devoutish]

About a time when you were happy.

[bywolves]

The last time... the last time we were downtown. [ He swallows hard. ] The last time, we ate bread, and we slept in the hotel. You went in to the grocery store and picked up the rye, and you handed me a piece of it. And of the sourdough. And it was still warm.

[devoutish]

[Oh no, he's telling a story about him. He'd expected something about Gwen or Hadrian, or maybe Mercy. But no, it's about him and his bread. It's enough to choke him up a little, and he waits for a moment to get his voice under control.]

That made you happy?

[bywolves]

[ Everything from home feels so distant. He can barely remember being happy in Elan - he knows he was, at a lot of points in his life, but it was so long ago. Years, it feels like. ]

Yeah. It made me happy. [ A beat. ] Warm food. And it wasn't as cold as usual in the hotel. We sat and. And I made you tea.

[devoutish]

You made me tea.

[He agrees.]

We've still got tea. I could make you some hot tea now.

[bywolves]

I don't want to waste it here. [ Royce says, shakily. ]

[devoutish]

Why would it be a waste?

[bywolves]

I... [ He tries, closing his eyes. ] I don't know. I don't want to waste the good things we have.

[devoutish]

You're no waste, Royce. It would be an honor to give you nice things. Here.

[He pulls away (a little reluctantly, it must be said), and grabs his bag by the strap, dragging it over. He pulls out a can of soda.]

I found this, ages ago. Haven't opened it because I'm not sure how to.

[It's a pop and pull tab, like any can of soda, but it's not something he's familiar with.]

Don't know what it is. Haven't got a clue what it tastes like. It could be fucking awful. Do you wanna give it a go?

[bywolves]

... Okay.

[ It doesn't matter, really. Sure. Why not? Whatever it is might be gross, but it's a distraction. Royce doesn't really move, just looks up at the can, trying to summon up the will to want to grab the thing. He doesn't, just sighs out a shivery sound and looks up at Alfie. The tears are still coming - less now, but they're dripping down his face. ]

[devoutish]

How do you think this opens up?

[He nudges the can into Royce's hands, leaning his still-dry cheek against Royce's teary one.]

You're good at picking locks. Eh? Pick this one for me.

[bywolves]

[ Give him a task. Yeah. That's good. Royce breathes out a sigh - presses their faces together a little, just for the reassurance, and then pulls back just enough to look down at the can, staring at it. He runs his fingers over it, trying to figure it out.

It has to do with the pop-top, he thinks. He picks at it almost absently, trying to lift it, and when it gives, he frowns. A beat, then, quietly: ]

I think you pull on this.

[devoutish]

Looks like it, yeah. But I couldn't get my nail under it.

[Granted, he'd only tried for 0.5 seconds, but.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce digs his finger under the pin. It hurts a little. He likes that he can feel that. For a moment, he stares at the top, and then he puts it on its side so it won't leak, and pulls hard on the top. The soda can makes that crack-hshhhh sound, and bubbles up. ]

[devoutish]

Oof. Look at that, it's got carbonation to it.

[bywolves]

It has what?

[devoutish]

Little bubbles. The taste will have a fizz to it.