( Real badasses, totally — except to qualify for that he'd probably have to feel the same good humor Lance does or Nate likely would. Instead, he feels the creeping threat of losing his hold on that steady detachment. He's not sure if there's a word for preemptively feeling dread over the inevitability of an anxiety crash, but in any case he's at least managing it. It's just that he's rusty, is all. He used to get practice at this twice a week, now the last time he felt it...
Well, it was the Aerie, but discounting that, it was when monsters roamed the streets of New Amsterdam unchecked. Not nearly enough to flex his Keep Your Shit Together muscles.
It's fine. He's got it. He's fine. At the very least, he can project the appearance of being fine. Keep that chill in his posture, in the slowness of his speech, in his tone. A little less default amusement than normal, but nobody could blame him for that.
He glances at Lance once, shooting him a huff of a laugh and a tired-looking smile. )
Yeah. Nice work, man.
( And then his eyes are back on the road ahead.
Next steps: Get back to the compound. Find something to drink.
Just, like, two shots and then he'll be fine. That's generally enough to stop it in its tracks. )
no subject
Well, it was the Aerie, but discounting that, it was when monsters roamed the streets of New Amsterdam unchecked. Not nearly enough to flex his Keep Your Shit Together muscles.
It's fine. He's got it. He's fine. At the very least, he can project the appearance of being fine. Keep that chill in his posture, in the slowness of his speech, in his tone. A little less default amusement than normal, but nobody could blame him for that.
He glances at Lance once, shooting him a huff of a laugh and a tired-looking smile. )
Yeah. Nice work, man.
( And then his eyes are back on the road ahead.
Next steps:
Get back to the compound.
Find something to drink.
Just, like, two shots and then he'll be fine. That's generally enough to stop it in its tracks. )