( And there's when he finally gets the message, kindly corrected on how strong Sam's feelings are about the whole thing. His hands come up in placating surrender, conceding in a way that isn't quite as visibly contrite as most decent people would have, but does at least clearly communicates the understanding. No hackles raised on his end at the confrontation, know when to admit you're wrong, know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, etc. )
Message received.
( And then stoically tucked away without dwelling on the moment too hard. Nary a comment on that rain shield, either.
And they're off, marching through wet grass and mud, lacking the sharp acidic bite that usually comes with the gentle, constant sprinkling it's been doing for the last two straight hours. Better than the downpour from this morning, anyway.
A few minutes in not exactly companionable silence passes before he cuts a look over to Sam. )
no subject
Message received.
( And then stoically tucked away without dwelling on the moment too hard. Nary a comment on that rain shield, either.
And they're off, marching through wet grass and mud, lacking the sharp acidic bite that usually comes with the gentle, constant sprinkling it's been doing for the last two straight hours. Better than the downpour from this morning, anyway.
A few minutes in not exactly companionable silence passes before he cuts a look over to Sam. )
Where'd you serve?
( Because did you serve isn't a question. )