[ Carver takes the device, tracing his thumb along the surface. ]
Sure, [ he murmurs. He has blast injuries, too. Probably a TBI or two. Not like Harold’s, no, but enough that he feels it sometimes and knows it won’t ever feel better. It’ll only get worse. ] But that’s just how it goes.
[ For people like him, anyway. He probably deserves it.
He puffs out a breath, then clicks the button for the first word. ]
Alice.
[ Then the second. ]
Jenny.
[ And then it’s done. His grandmother’s name, and then his mother’s. Not words he’d speak casually. ]
no subject
Sure, [ he murmurs. He has blast injuries, too. Probably a TBI or two. Not like Harold’s, no, but enough that he feels it sometimes and knows it won’t ever feel better. It’ll only get worse. ] But that’s just how it goes.
[ For people like him, anyway. He probably deserves it.
He puffs out a breath, then clicks the button for the first word. ]
Alice.
[ Then the second. ]
Jenny.
[ And then it’s done. His grandmother’s name, and then his mother’s. Not words he’d speak casually. ]