Carver stirs briefly when Pope does, watching him with half-lidded eyes. Exhausted and hurting, but still alive. He pulls himself up slowly, gingerly, every move made on pins and needles because he is so goddamn tired, and he hurts inside. It hurts in his soul, he thinks, and he wants to go home and be with their brothers and sisters, with Riley. To get that vodka with Pope.
He gets himself up, though. He showers with what's left of the hot water and scrubs his skin raw, comes back with damp hair and tired eyes to lean against the wall.
"You okay, sir?" he asks quietly, not sure if Pope's even awake or not.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-06-15 08:23 pm (UTC)He gets himself up, though. He showers with what's left of the hot water and scrubs his skin raw, comes back with damp hair and tired eyes to lean against the wall.
"You okay, sir?" he asks quietly, not sure if Pope's even awake or not.