067. In The Evening

[samson]

[In the early evening, Brock can be found at the archery range alternately shooting his crossbow at targets or using throwing knives. He is... pretty bad.

Also pretty bad is his constant swearing about how terrible he is. It's just awful. Embarrassing even.

But he's still trying. Just getting more and more pissed off as he goes on.]

[Brock's voice comes over the journal in the evening, tone flat.]

I need to know if anybody has experience with like... really bad depth perception. Don't ask. I just need advice.

Comments

[molotov]

No they won't. Idiot.

Fine, do what you want.

[samson]

[uuugggGGHHHH]

I don't know what I want. Functioning eyes, maybe.

[molotov]

Well, so do I. But you have what you have, so you have to get used to it.

[samson]

[No, he's going to pout!!! Doesn't wanna get used to it at all.]

Maybe I should just have you rip it out, it'll probably be easier.

[molotov]

That is stupid, and I am not doing it.

[samson]

Can you, like... punch it? [Pointing at his eye...]

If it swells up bad enough, I won't be able to see anyway...

[molotov]

What? No, that is stupid too. You need to learn to cope. Like a grown up.

[samson]

[BUT I DON'T WANNA BE A GROWN-UP is the obvious reply to that]

Okay, so... show me again...

[molotov]

[She just holds her arms out and repeats the action.]

[samson]

[Brock... frowns... but mimics her.]

[molotov]

So that is your new range of vision, see?

[samson]

Right... so now what.

[molotov]

So use your new range. Try throwing a knife in the new range.

[samson]

[FIDGETS... he is such a proud douchebag; he has the worst, hardest time taking advice...

But he throws. He still sucks, but at least he actually hit the target this time.]

[molotov]

See? Now stop being a baby, just practice.

[samson]

This is frustrating as hell. What if something happens and I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing?

[molotov]

That is called life, sokol. You think I woke up the day after this [she gestures to her eyepatch], knowing how to live my life around it, without fear? Nyet, idiot. We all have to learn.

[samson]

Well, no, but... I mean, they probably gave you, like... a sick day... right...

[molotov]

[She stares at him like he's dumb.] You do remember who I worked for, right? They gave me an eyepatch and threw me in a training room.

[samson]

Okay, but you didn't go back out into the field. Is my point. [AWKWARDLY TRAILS OFF, now he feels bad.

Mutters...] Sorry.

[molotov]

Oh, da. How could I forget the four whole days of pure rest and relaxation I got? Rubber bullets are the exact same as a massage.

[She sighs, and wraps her arms around his waist, not saying anything else.]

[samson]

[He sighs too, absently placing his hand on the back of her head, fingers curling in her hair.

He's quiet for a bit, then speaks up, voice low.] What if I don't get it?

[molotov]

Get what? It'll happen, eventually. It has to.

whoops i lost this tag

[samson]

Okay, but... what if it doesn't? What if I'm useless after sundown forever?

[molotov]

You are not useless. You still have half your vision.