[Hikage got a quieter sendoff, Subete raising his hand in a careless wave back even as one eyebrow ticks up at the wink swirled into the fancy-shmancy exit; there's just a sigh once he's turned back to contemplating his empty glass, but there's amusement in it and a little more energy, in all of the ridiculous back-and-forth that just swept by like a stray watercolor brush in the inkwash of receding miasma and thawing decades.
So maybe he's a little more well-equipped for what comes after, now, and a little more well-braced besides. Strange how that works. It's not going to be nearly enough to deal with the real ridiculousness the O5s drag in, and certainly not enough to shore his still-nonexistent patience with the Foundation itself, but nothing at this point probably would.
Still, it seems like a very long time later that escaping into San Jose finally happens, and when it does it's somewhat of a blur. Subete doesn't have much to say on the way there, tension still wound through most of him like a spring set to snap, but he does let himself settle a little into the familiar rumble of the car engine (how long has it been? is a question he finds himself asking a little too much right now). The driver hasn't spoken or glanced back once since they helped themselves to the back seat, and there's absolutely no reaction when they step out, either -- like he didn't even notice they were back there, somehow.
It takes a moment or two, and he's busily scanning the street for their destination (unnecessarily, because anything food-related blares like a beacon right now in the setting sun), but Subete does answer.]
I got the impression we just missed some minor fireworks, but... [thoughtfully] Gyuudon and sake are a start. I could use more of a real drink after -- today.
[The briefest pause, not like a stumble but more like stepping over a missed step, a gap that goes a lot deeper than a day and a lot wider than a bottle of sake, but really: you do have to start somewhere.]
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So maybe he's a little more well-equipped for what comes after, now, and a little more well-braced besides. Strange how that works. It's not going to be nearly enough to deal with the real ridiculousness the O5s drag in, and certainly not enough to shore his still-nonexistent patience with the Foundation itself, but nothing at this point probably would.
Still, it seems like a very long time later that escaping into San Jose finally happens, and when it does it's somewhat of a blur. Subete doesn't have much to say on the way there, tension still wound through most of him like a spring set to snap, but he does let himself settle a little into the familiar rumble of the car engine (how long has it been? is a question he finds himself asking a little too much right now). The driver hasn't spoken or glanced back once since they helped themselves to the back seat, and there's absolutely no reaction when they step out, either -- like he didn't even notice they were back there, somehow.
It takes a moment or two, and he's busily scanning the street for their destination (unnecessarily, because anything food-related blares like a beacon right now in the setting sun), but Subete does answer.]
I got the impression we just missed some minor fireworks, but... [thoughtfully] Gyuudon and sake are a start. I could use more of a real drink after -- today.
[The briefest pause, not like a stumble but more like stepping over a missed step, a gap that goes a lot deeper than a day and a lot wider than a bottle of sake, but really: you do have to start somewhere.]