It’ll be moonshine, Carver knows, even before he takes the first sip. And then he does and his expression mirrors Pope’s, but it’s the good sort of burn. It aches in him, a distraction from the echoed hurt from Sila’s ribs. She’s tucked into his chest, calming herself down, and this is good. Shit’s good. They won. And Pope’s proud of him again, like he never even fucked up.
“Yes, sir,” he agrees, brightening. A feast—won’t that be something? Enough for all of them to eat their fill, and their daemons too. “Feels good. I knew we could do it quiet. God still loves us.”
And Pope still trusts him.
Sila twitches, burrowing deeper into his coat before abruptly turning and popping her head out. She regards the bottle, and the glasses, and then she pulls herself out completely and begins cleaning the blood from her muzzle. Life is good, Carver thinks, and something in him settles.
Life is fucking good. Maybe he’ll even get some sleep.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-07-11 02:09 am (UTC)“Yes, sir,” he agrees, brightening. A feast—won’t that be something? Enough for all of them to eat their fill, and their daemons too. “Feels good. I knew we could do it quiet. God still loves us.”
And Pope still trusts him.
Sila twitches, burrowing deeper into his coat before abruptly turning and popping her head out. She regards the bottle, and the glasses, and then she pulls herself out completely and begins cleaning the blood from her muzzle. Life is good, Carver thinks, and something in him settles.
Life is fucking good. Maybe he’ll even get some sleep.
“We gonna stay here?”