[Dave grits his teeth. He doesn't know why he just said that, and he doesn't understand why he isn't replying to Gary's command for elaboration with an emphatic "fuck you."
This... all of this... has gone way too far beyond what was supposed to happen, and he keeps replaying scenarios in his mind; how did things ever get to this?]
I... [Don't say it. Don't fucking say it. Don't give him shit.] ...didn't ask to come out here with you 'cause I wanted to scope the place out for notes or whatever. I just--
[The part of his mind that had been screaming at him to keep his mouth shut throws a mild tantrum; another part responds scathingly with, "what does it matter, he already knew that part anyway."]
I dunno, I guess I wanted to see you.
[And a part of him shudders in revulsion at how that sounds; at how weak-- no, pathetic it is to express such a sentiment out loud. The part where it was motivated by insecurity - by the fact that ever since Dave had contacted Gary about Dirk, Gary had stopped responding to his texts as regularly as he had before - goes unsaid, and Dave can only hope that he hasn't lost enough of his mind yet that he's even spilling that, even if he's for some reason opted to messily spill the rest of his guts uncontrollably from his mouth.
No such luck, unfortunately.]
I mean, we're supposed to be-- ["Bros" is the word he thinks he probably was trying to say here, but instead his breath hitches in his throat uncomfortably when he reaches it, as if to rebel against the idea. Maybe it was because of what that word had come to be associated with in recent events; of family ties that can't be broken, of two people that were currently at each others' throats for no good fucking reason.] ...tight, but all of a sudden it's like I don't fucking exist or I dunno, you've got a schedule jampacked so tight you can't even be assed to answer a guy and let him know you haven't up and gotten involved in whatever other hostage sitch they're gonna throw at us next or earned yourself a nice little vacation in some place nobody can reach or fuck if I even know with the millions of fucking ways people go missing in this town.
I... [Dave clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again. Then, as if straining himself to decide how he'd wanted to finish that thought or if that thought was even worth trying to finish, seems to settle on deciding to shut it again and keep it shut.]
no subject
This... all of this... has gone way too far beyond what was supposed to happen, and he keeps replaying scenarios in his mind; how did things ever get to this?]
I... [Don't say it. Don't fucking say it. Don't give him shit.] ...didn't ask to come out here with you 'cause I wanted to scope the place out for notes or whatever. I just--
[The part of his mind that had been screaming at him to keep his mouth shut throws a mild tantrum; another part responds scathingly with, "what does it matter, he already knew that part anyway."]
I dunno, I guess I wanted to see you.
[And a part of him shudders in revulsion at how that sounds; at how weak-- no, pathetic it is to express such a sentiment out loud. The part where it was motivated by insecurity - by the fact that ever since Dave had contacted Gary about Dirk, Gary had stopped responding to his texts as regularly as he had before - goes unsaid, and Dave can only hope that he hasn't lost enough of his mind yet that he's even spilling that, even if he's for some reason opted to messily spill the rest of his guts uncontrollably from his mouth.
No such luck, unfortunately.]
I mean, we're supposed to be-- ["Bros" is the word he thinks he probably was trying to say here, but instead his breath hitches in his throat uncomfortably when he reaches it, as if to rebel against the idea. Maybe it was because of what that word had come to be associated with in recent events; of family ties that can't be broken, of two people that were currently at each others' throats for no good fucking reason.] ...tight, but all of a sudden it's like I don't fucking exist or I dunno, you've got a schedule jampacked so tight you can't even be assed to answer a guy and let him know you haven't up and gotten involved in whatever other hostage sitch they're gonna throw at us next or earned yourself a nice little vacation in some place nobody can reach or fuck if I even know with the millions of fucking ways people go missing in this town.
I... [Dave clamps his mouth shut, then opens it again. Then, as if straining himself to decide how he'd wanted to finish that thought or if that thought was even worth trying to finish, seems to settle on deciding to shut it again and keep it shut.]