Fireman Sam (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supercilious) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ruffians2015-03-14 12:04 pm
supercilious) wrote in ruffians2015-03-14 12:04 pm
→ LET'S PARTY
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[ooc: She's really missed you, you blasted lying son of the stone. So much that she'll even forgive you writing that blighted book. Someday.]
[Hey now, it's not 'lying' it's 'creative storytelling.']
[Honestly it's great to actually see Hawke again, it's been far too long. (Of course when you spend six years practically glued to someone's side, any significant time apart is too long.) It's hard to shake the guilt about bringing her to the Inquisition, but she's the best person for the job and Hawke is astoundingly good at staying alive. So maybe he needn't feel too bad about it.]
[Right, first things first, showing her around. He's gonna take Hawke on a tour of Skyhold, pointing out everything of import. Everything of importance being the haughty elf, the Inquisitor's throne, the Seeker they should both avoid, and the most important of all: The tavern.]
[Gesturing with open arms at the whole of the room, as if presenting something magical:] It doesn't have the same charm as the Hanged Man, but the drinks are better.
[Honestly it's great to actually see Hawke again, it's been far too long. (Of course when you spend six years practically glued to someone's side, any significant time apart is too long.) It's hard to shake the guilt about bringing her to the Inquisition, but she's the best person for the job and Hawke is astoundingly good at staying alive. So maybe he needn't feel too bad about it.]
[Right, first things first, showing her around. He's gonna take Hawke on a tour of Skyhold, pointing out everything of import. Everything of importance being the haughty elf, the Inquisitor's throne, the Seeker they should both avoid, and the most important of all: The tavern.]
[Gesturing with open arms at the whole of the room, as if presenting something magical:] It doesn't have the same charm as the Hanged Man, but the drinks are better.
I am slow, sorry; should have warned you about that.
questionablewit
2015-05-15 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[Varric should stop feeling guilty. Hawke brought herself to the Inquisition. She would have heard about Corypheus and the only person who could stand against him eventually, and it's her own blighted fault that Mister Tall, Dark, and Undying is loose to begin with. Varric just saved everyone some time. So considerate of him.
Not as considerate as showing her where the alcohol is first and foremost, though. People who are going to save the world need a place to get away from the world they're saving, for a while.]
That's really not saying much, you know. On either count.
Not as considerate as showing her where the alcohol is first and foremost, though. People who are going to save the world need a place to get away from the world they're saving, for a while.]
That's really not saying much, you know. On either count.
[hey man, more coffee is always good.]
More coffee is always good. [just says what's on his mind, this one] Or we could... Just wander around, I guess? See if anything looks interesting.
More coffee is always good. [just says what's on his mind, this one] Or we could... Just wander around, I guess? See if anything looks interesting.
[HAND ON HIS HEART. Hawke how could you.]
Aw come on, Hawke. Don't tell me you don't miss the Pig Oat Mash.
Aw come on, Hawke. Don't tell me you don't miss the Pig Oat Mash.
[Don't pull that on her, she knows you.]
I don't miss the Pig Oat Mash. And I especially don't miss those things that were fried in so much oil you couldn't actually tell what they were under the batter and grease.
[...the smirk says that maybe she does just a little bit, if only because of nostalgia, but admitting it? Never!]
I don't miss the Pig Oat Mash. And I especially don't miss those things that were fried in so much oil you couldn't actually tell what they were under the batter and grease.
[...the smirk says that maybe she does just a little bit, if only because of nostalgia, but admitting it? Never!]
The second page reads "Try not to fall asleep at your desk next time. P.S. If the coffee is hot, I'm still in the kitchen."
Oh, that's so sweet. Terry huffs a small laugh as he flips between the pages, (after rubbing his eyes approximately 800 times,) and he takes a few moments to enjoy the coffee before he decides to give that whole 'standing up' thing he's heard so much about a go.
The effect that sleeping in his chair has is that 'walking' is more of an anguished shuffle with a hunched back and his hands cupping the coffee mug tightly. It sort of makes him look like a caricature of an old man, especially still wearing his now-crumpled suit from the previous day, and the occasional groan in complaint doesn't help matters any.
Good thing it's not a long walk to the kitchen, and Terry offers the closest thing to a smile that he can manage in his current state when he sees Robbie. It's really more of a tired frown, but Terry can't help that his face is like this.
"Hey," his voice is gentle at least? And croaky. "Thanks for the coffee."
The effect that sleeping in his chair has is that 'walking' is more of an anguished shuffle with a hunched back and his hands cupping the coffee mug tightly. It sort of makes him look like a caricature of an old man, especially still wearing his now-crumpled suit from the previous day, and the occasional groan in complaint doesn't help matters any.
Good thing it's not a long walk to the kitchen, and Terry offers the closest thing to a smile that he can manage in his current state when he sees Robbie. It's really more of a tired frown, but Terry can't help that his face is like this.
"Hey," his voice is gentle at least? And croaky. "Thanks for the coffee."
"Morning." It's not a chirp, but Robbie is accutely aware that he sounds significantly more prepared to face the day than Terry does right now. Robbie cheated though - he had two cups of coffee before he even tried to take some to anyone else.
He's moved onto stage 2 of "morning": foraging for food. He is currently halfway hidden in the pantry, on his hands and knees digging for the canvas bagged stamped "CHIA SEEDS". It's at the back of the bottom shelf, as always. No one wants chia seeds.
That's probably because they don't know that the bag is Robbie's secret hiding spot for good, old-fashioned Lucky Charms. He has to hide things like this here, because he has to act like an adult all day. Breakfast is his sanctuary.
He straightens up and leans back, checking that the coast is clear. Robbie shakes the box in Terry's direction. "You hungry? You look..." He hesitates and chickens out of telling anyone else that they look like shit. He lost that right. "You look like you could use the sugar."
He's moved onto stage 2 of "morning": foraging for food. He is currently halfway hidden in the pantry, on his hands and knees digging for the canvas bagged stamped "CHIA SEEDS". It's at the back of the bottom shelf, as always. No one wants chia seeds.
That's probably because they don't know that the bag is Robbie's secret hiding spot for good, old-fashioned Lucky Charms. He has to hide things like this here, because he has to act like an adult all day. Breakfast is his sanctuary.
He straightens up and leans back, checking that the coast is clear. Robbie shakes the box in Terry's direction. "You hungry? You look..." He hesitates and chickens out of telling anyone else that they look like shit. He lost that right. "You look like you could use the sugar."
It's an oddly comforting thing that he's just witnessed. Robbie pulling out the secret cereal reminds Terry a bit of hiding junk so his brother wouldn't eat it. Chips and candy had a relative degree of safety since he could keep them in his room, but you wanna keep a 10 year-old from eating that ice cream you're saving for the perfect monster movie night? Put it behind the frozen peas and the gross soups no one except your mother likes.
"I look like shit," Terry helpfully amends - he knows what he looks like in the morning, there's no need for Robbie to dance around it - and leans against one of the counters. The Lucky Charms get a yawn and a thumbs up from Terry, whose response to that involuntary yawn is to basically start chugging his coffee like his life depends on it.
There's probably a reason why it takes so much caffeine to wake him up these days, but for the life of him Terry can't think what that is.
"I look like shit," Terry helpfully amends - he knows what he looks like in the morning, there's no need for Robbie to dance around it - and leans against one of the counters. The Lucky Charms get a yawn and a thumbs up from Terry, whose response to that involuntary yawn is to basically start chugging his coffee like his life depends on it.
There's probably a reason why it takes so much caffeine to wake him up these days, but for the life of him Terry can't think what that is.
"It's mostly the suit," Robbie explains awkwardly. He needs to have a better poker face, if he's going to ever convince people that he isn't a lamb in want of a shepherd. Therapist or not, he doesn't like that Terry can cut through the offered bullshit so nearly, especially when Robbie is making an effort to be like everyone else. It's disheartening, but he tries to not show it. "If you'd wear a t-shirt and jeans like me, you wouldn't look like you were wearing a pug butt coat."
He waves a hand at his own clothes, which match that description with the addition of long-sleeved. Robbie slept in them, at least for a few hours, but he doesn't think they look too shabby. Terry, on the other hand, looks like a homeless Robert Smith. "Don't worry. It doesn't look like butt the first day you wear it?"
He busies himself filling two bowls with cereal and barely enough milk to get it all floating. It's an oversight; he's worried about how this breakfast will come across. Do the students know Terry? He knows that they know Osborn. Hate Osborn. But Terry wouldn't have been a party to what had happened to them. They didn't deserve it.
It might be okay. They're never around, and the Infinite Mansion is huge. This isn't only kitchen Robbie knows; it's simply the closest to his room. Stop worrying. Focus on here. On Terry trying to drown himself in the coffee mug and how he acts like Niels. They both think they're never getting coffee/food again. Robbie clears his throat. "I made a whole pot, so... there's plenty. I drink a lot of caffeine too. It really helps."
He waves a hand at his own clothes, which match that description with the addition of long-sleeved. Robbie slept in them, at least for a few hours, but he doesn't think they look too shabby. Terry, on the other hand, looks like a homeless Robert Smith. "Don't worry. It doesn't look like butt the first day you wear it?"
He busies himself filling two bowls with cereal and barely enough milk to get it all floating. It's an oversight; he's worried about how this breakfast will come across. Do the students know Terry? He knows that they know Osborn. Hate Osborn. But Terry wouldn't have been a party to what had happened to them. They didn't deserve it.
It might be okay. They're never around, and the Infinite Mansion is huge. This isn't only kitchen Robbie knows; it's simply the closest to his room. Stop worrying. Focus on here. On Terry trying to drown himself in the coffee mug and how he acts like Niels. They both think they're never getting coffee/food again. Robbie clears his throat. "I made a whole pot, so... there's plenty. I drink a lot of caffeine too. It really helps."
The 'pug butt coat' gets an amused snort from Terry, and he shakes his head disparagingly. Though to his credit, Robbie isn't the one here looking like a first draft of the opening scene from The Crow, so who's the winner here.
Coffee. Coffee is the winner here.
Terry slows down with his coffee when he's most of the way through, to watch Robbie potter around as inconspicuously as possible. It's so difficult to hold it in, to stop himself from asking if Robbie's okay. He knows Robbie hates it, how much he wants people to look at him like he's fine and not fragile. And sure, that's not what it's about, and at some point he needs to learn to accept help but. Not right now.
"You are my hero," he says instead, this time trying for a real smile (it's a little closer, but no dice,) and refills his mug. Sighing the happiest of sighs at the taste of fresh coffee. As if he wasn't literally drinking coffee thirty seconds ago.
Coffee. Coffee is the winner here.
Terry slows down with his coffee when he's most of the way through, to watch Robbie potter around as inconspicuously as possible. It's so difficult to hold it in, to stop himself from asking if Robbie's okay. He knows Robbie hates it, how much he wants people to look at him like he's fine and not fragile. And sure, that's not what it's about, and at some point he needs to learn to accept help but. Not right now.
"You are my hero," he says instead, this time trying for a real smile (it's a little closer, but no dice,) and refills his mug. Sighing the happiest of sighs at the taste of fresh coffee. As if he wasn't literally drinking coffee thirty seconds ago.
... no, but he feels like the second scene of the Crow every time that he jerks awake suddenly and rips the blankets away from his face because he can't breathe and can't figure out where he is. Which is... basically every time he wakes up.
Coffee has a kinder and briefer existence, and, in the long run, it will get to be a part of the ocean someday.
Robbie can tell that Terry is watching, or he thinks he can. In reality, he's paranoid and constantly thinks that everyone is watching him. It doesn't matter if he's on the subway, where he could be literally on fire and no one would look up from their phone. It's worse today, but he's trying, really striving, to not wonder why Terry is here and who called him. Is it a coincidence, or did they have an appointment today? Robbie can't remember.
Forgetfulness is a sign of depression. He's found library books on all of the words that got thrown around the Thunderbolts about him. It's also a sign of PTSD.
It's not a sign of OCD, but he never had that anyway. He just never corrected the doctors who examined him as to why he had to memorize so many numbers.
But it's been bothering him since he walked past Terry's office and realized that the Doctor was in. He should have made a note or something, because he can't ask anyone. The only two people who might know are Terry, ruled out because actual therapist, and Vance, ruled out because armchair therapist. All he can do is try to wait it all out. Eventually, Terry will suggest they get started, or he won't.
"I'm not." Terry is way ahead of Robbie in the smiling department. Robbie isn't even making an attempt at that; he's having enough trouble with saying 'I'm not' like a human being or at least not with a flatter affect than Siri. He shovels a mountain of cereal into his mouth and mumbles around it. "I don't do the shopping. I just hit enough buttons on the coffee machine until stuff came out. It could be coffee, it could be oil. Who knows in this place?"
Better. Definitely hitting the right cadence at the end.
Coffee has a kinder and briefer existence, and, in the long run, it will get to be a part of the ocean someday.
Robbie can tell that Terry is watching, or he thinks he can. In reality, he's paranoid and constantly thinks that everyone is watching him. It doesn't matter if he's on the subway, where he could be literally on fire and no one would look up from their phone. It's worse today, but he's trying, really striving, to not wonder why Terry is here and who called him. Is it a coincidence, or did they have an appointment today? Robbie can't remember.
Forgetfulness is a sign of depression. He's found library books on all of the words that got thrown around the Thunderbolts about him. It's also a sign of PTSD.
It's not a sign of OCD, but he never had that anyway. He just never corrected the doctors who examined him as to why he had to memorize so many numbers.
But it's been bothering him since he walked past Terry's office and realized that the Doctor was in. He should have made a note or something, because he can't ask anyone. The only two people who might know are Terry, ruled out because actual therapist, and Vance, ruled out because armchair therapist. All he can do is try to wait it all out. Eventually, Terry will suggest they get started, or he won't.
"I'm not." Terry is way ahead of Robbie in the smiling department. Robbie isn't even making an attempt at that; he's having enough trouble with saying 'I'm not' like a human being or at least not with a flatter affect than Siri. He shovels a mountain of cereal into his mouth and mumbles around it. "I don't do the shopping. I just hit enough buttons on the coffee machine until stuff came out. It could be coffee, it could be oil. Who knows in this place?"
Better. Definitely hitting the right cadence at the end.
"I don't see anyone else leaving coffee on my desk for me." Terry raises his eyebrows at Robbie like a period on the point he's making, struggling not to frown instead, but he'll let him have the joke.
It's just rough. Still every time he sees Robbie, he he has to fight this wrenching guilt in his chest. A guilt that only gets more painful whenever he forces himself to ignore those clear signs that Robbie's not okay. That he's still so far from being okay that Terry can't even conceive of what he's struggling with.
This deep wound in him that Terry helped dig.
He's here for Robbie, he's always here for Robbie, but sometimes he doesn't know if he really can be. Not that Terry thinks he's beyond help, but because he thinks he doesn't have the right to try and be that person. How can the same guy who looked away when Penance was screaming about not knowing who he is-- How can that guy be the same one to try and help Robbie piece together some sense of who he is now? How does he deserve to try and help Robbie move past what he did?
But. For whatever reason, he's trusted. And as much as he thinks that faith may be misplaced, he'll never do anything to betray that. Not again. And right now that takes the form of powering through this morning like they're not both dancing around the obvious.
"And," Terry continues on, putting down his mug so he can take the bowl of cereal, "no one else is sharing their secret cereal stash with me."
It's just rough. Still every time he sees Robbie, he he has to fight this wrenching guilt in his chest. A guilt that only gets more painful whenever he forces himself to ignore those clear signs that Robbie's not okay. That he's still so far from being okay that Terry can't even conceive of what he's struggling with.
This deep wound in him that Terry helped dig.
He's here for Robbie, he's always here for Robbie, but sometimes he doesn't know if he really can be. Not that Terry thinks he's beyond help, but because he thinks he doesn't have the right to try and be that person. How can the same guy who looked away when Penance was screaming about not knowing who he is-- How can that guy be the same one to try and help Robbie piece together some sense of who he is now? How does he deserve to try and help Robbie move past what he did?
But. For whatever reason, he's trusted. And as much as he thinks that faith may be misplaced, he'll never do anything to betray that. Not again. And right now that takes the form of powering through this morning like they're not both dancing around the obvious.
"And," Terry continues on, putting down his mug so he can take the bowl of cereal, "no one else is sharing their secret cereal stash with me."
How to explain that those things are fairly basic actions? Ingrained habits - it comes from the same place that used to decorate the Crashpad for the holidays. Terry was obviously going to be in need of coffee. The note was to make it less creepy (at least, it made it less creepy in Robbie's head) that Robbie had ventured into an occupied office without waking him. As for the cereal, he wasn't about to eat in front of someone, and he's too lazy to make eggs.
It doesn't matter that it's Terry, or, if it does matter, that's one more reason to help him. In Robbie's eyes, Terry was kind to him. He was the first person to do anything unnecessarily nice for him since. Since Stamford. Everything else, everything Ms. Walters had done, that was all her job. Terry got him Niels, and that was in a situation where Norman Osborn had been in control. Robbie had been on Osborn's Thunderbolts - he knows what that lunatic is like. There's no grudge against Terry; he did the best he could in a bad situation.
Just like how Robbie is doing the best he can now. Sharing is a subset of caring, and that's the one thing that Robbie hasn't lost in the past few months. He cares about others, and, if Terry isn't going to take the greatest care of himself, that's... fine. Robbie can offer support though. A cup of coffee, a note that would hopefully scrape away a millimeter of whatever problem had kept the man up at his desk, an offer of breakfast... these things are basically free. They're the sort of support that he would like Vance to downgrade to, rather than arranging for him to have a job that's really just a huge stressor -
But Vance means well, they all mean well, even now Robbie means well. The only difference is that cereal involves neither commitment nor an audience. Cereal is easy; life is hard. Or maybe cereal is soggy, yeah. That's how he should word it if he can work that joke in.
"No one else is up at - " Robbie paused to check the time on the microwave. "5 o'clock in the morning, or maybe they would. You might have a point with the cereal. I can't see Vance, Pietro, or Greer keeping a stash of junk food. Hank, mm. Probably, but it's also probably under lock and key in his lab. I wouldn't eat anything that lives that close to Pym particles. Would you?"
It doesn't matter that it's Terry, or, if it does matter, that's one more reason to help him. In Robbie's eyes, Terry was kind to him. He was the first person to do anything unnecessarily nice for him since. Since Stamford. Everything else, everything Ms. Walters had done, that was all her job. Terry got him Niels, and that was in a situation where Norman Osborn had been in control. Robbie had been on Osborn's Thunderbolts - he knows what that lunatic is like. There's no grudge against Terry; he did the best he could in a bad situation.
Just like how Robbie is doing the best he can now. Sharing is a subset of caring, and that's the one thing that Robbie hasn't lost in the past few months. He cares about others, and, if Terry isn't going to take the greatest care of himself, that's... fine. Robbie can offer support though. A cup of coffee, a note that would hopefully scrape away a millimeter of whatever problem had kept the man up at his desk, an offer of breakfast... these things are basically free. They're the sort of support that he would like Vance to downgrade to, rather than arranging for him to have a job that's really just a huge stressor -
But Vance means well, they all mean well, even now Robbie means well. The only difference is that cereal involves neither commitment nor an audience. Cereal is easy; life is hard. Or maybe cereal is soggy, yeah. That's how he should word it if he can work that joke in.
"No one else is up at - " Robbie paused to check the time on the microwave. "5 o'clock in the morning, or maybe they would. You might have a point with the cereal. I can't see Vance, Pietro, or Greer keeping a stash of junk food. Hank, mm. Probably, but it's also probably under lock and key in his lab. I wouldn't eat anything that lives that close to Pym particles. Would you?"
"God no." Terry pulls a face at the idea of eating anything exposed to Pym particles. Imagine the hellish Alice in Wonderland situation you'd end up in. Terry knows a thing or two about what's scary and that's... It's definitely up there.
No, god. It's too early in the day to think about that. Morbidly hilarious a distraction from what he's feeling as it is. Terry pulls himself up to sit on the counter and sits cross-legged with the cereal, slowly making his way through the bowl-- have Lucky Charms always been this sweet, or is he just getting old?
"Pym particles aside though. Thanks." He doesn't look up from the bowl when he speaks this time, oddly embarrassed, but maybe it just looks to Robbie like's rooting around for a marshmallow piece.
No, god. It's too early in the day to think about that. Morbidly hilarious a distraction from what he's feeling as it is. Terry pulls himself up to sit on the counter and sits cross-legged with the cereal, slowly making his way through the bowl-- have Lucky Charms always been this sweet, or is he just getting old?
"Pym particles aside though. Thanks." He doesn't look up from the bowl when he speaks this time, oddly embarrassed, but maybe it just looks to Robbie like's rooting around for a marshmallow piece.
Robbie can't blame him. There's something about the marshmallows and their crunchy styrofoam texture that makes them his ultimate comfort food. They make him feel like a kid again, when his feet didn't touch the floor at the dining room table and his parents would be rushing around trying to get ready for work. That sweet time when he was too naïve to know what disowned and divorce were.
He admits they taste bad though. Like sugar, sadness, and Vegas. Lucky Charms are still safer than Pym particles. He can agree on so much.
"That's because you're smart." The words are accompanied by his spoon repeatedly getting jabbed in Terry's direction. It seems like such a little thing, not messing around with weird science stuff that has a tendency to turn out poorly. Robbie wasn't even trying to muck around with experiments, and he still wound up in a lab accident (and, subsequently, here).
"Huh." Surprise is washing over his face like the breaking dawn. "You know… if you think about it, potential Pym contamination is probably the least of our worries. I still don't understand how this whole 'Infinite Mansion' works. All I know is that the door across from mine leads to an alley in New York City, and my bedroom window overlooks the Rhine."
Finished with his cereal, Robbie puts the bowl in the sink and stares down his empty coffee mug for awhile. It doesn't fill itself, so he does and leaves it black. He likes it that way - actually, he likes 3 am diner coffee that's been sitting on the burner long enough to concentrate. He can taste it then.
Robbie takes a good-sized slug of it, before finally continuing this safe topic. "What I mean is, we're being affected by a lot more science than a few stray particles on your twinkies, just by virtue of us standing here."
He admits they taste bad though. Like sugar, sadness, and Vegas. Lucky Charms are still safer than Pym particles. He can agree on so much.
"That's because you're smart." The words are accompanied by his spoon repeatedly getting jabbed in Terry's direction. It seems like such a little thing, not messing around with weird science stuff that has a tendency to turn out poorly. Robbie wasn't even trying to muck around with experiments, and he still wound up in a lab accident (and, subsequently, here).
"Huh." Surprise is washing over his face like the breaking dawn. "You know… if you think about it, potential Pym contamination is probably the least of our worries. I still don't understand how this whole 'Infinite Mansion' works. All I know is that the door across from mine leads to an alley in New York City, and my bedroom window overlooks the Rhine."
Finished with his cereal, Robbie puts the bowl in the sink and stares down his empty coffee mug for awhile. It doesn't fill itself, so he does and leaves it black. He likes it that way - actually, he likes 3 am diner coffee that's been sitting on the burner long enough to concentrate. He can taste it then.
Robbie takes a good-sized slug of it, before finally continuing this safe topic. "What I mean is, we're being affected by a lot more science than a few stray particles on your twinkies, just by virtue of us standing here."
"Oh my god," Terry makes a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a groan, in no way is he ready for the idea that they're being exposed to some kind of horrible radiation right now. His powers are already messed up enough on their own, he doesn't need whatever Hank's science would do. "I haven't had enough coffee to deal with this."
What if it made him into a giant? That would be terrible. In his sleep-addled state, it's a little distracting to think about. He catches himself thinking about how comfortable he is with his current height and shakes his head, sliding his empty mug across the counter toward Robbie as a hint. Maybe coffee #3 will be the one that makes him ready to face the day.
What if it made him into a giant? That would be terrible. In his sleep-addled state, it's a little distracting to think about. He catches himself thinking about how comfortable he is with his current height and shakes his head, sliding his empty mug across the counter toward Robbie as a hint. Maybe coffee #3 will be the one that makes him ready to face the day.
The hint is not that subtle, Terry, particularly when the statement about needing more coffee is factored in. Robbie wordlessly picks up the carafe again and refills Terry's mug, carrying it carefully over.
"Here," he says as he hands over the hot mug. "Cheers."
He raises his own mug high - clinking them seems like a good way to get burned, best avoid that. A sip to keep busy. Robbie can feel the conversation stalling out, and he doesn't know what to say to keep it flowing. He doesn't mind silence, but it bugs other people. Speedball has always been a chatterbug; Penance was stoic. Pick something and blab on autopilot.
"You should sit in on a training session, if you're up for it." Yes, good. Doubly good, Terry might explain why he's here in the first place. "Some of the students could use..."
Hang on, this isn't such a great idea. Is a teacher supposed to want the fear of god put into his students? It might make a few of them have some damn caution, but it's harsh. It's not nice to Terry either, to make him feel like he's the scary monster in this room. "They need a sense of perspective."
"Here," he says as he hands over the hot mug. "Cheers."
He raises his own mug high - clinking them seems like a good way to get burned, best avoid that. A sip to keep busy. Robbie can feel the conversation stalling out, and he doesn't know what to say to keep it flowing. He doesn't mind silence, but it bugs other people. Speedball has always been a chatterbug; Penance was stoic. Pick something and blab on autopilot.
"You should sit in on a training session, if you're up for it." Yes, good. Doubly good, Terry might explain why he's here in the first place. "Some of the students could use..."
Hang on, this isn't such a great idea. Is a teacher supposed to want the fear of god put into his students? It might make a few of them have some damn caution, but it's harsh. It's not nice to Terry either, to make him feel like he's the scary monster in this room. "They need a sense of perspective."
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