[This is... what, the second wedding Tim has ever attended? That's sad. But improvements had been made from when his dad got hitched: for one, Tim didn't even try to show up in a dinosaur tee and shorts. He's instead the picture of polite company, hair groomed back, skin fresh, the suit only a little off because it's one of those cheaper ones off the rack and not anything Tim is really used to.
And there's the whole above-knee amputation thing. It means Tim rushed to get the pants mended in some sketchy but efficient mom-and-pop shop if only because he would have felt... bad, with asking Rue to do the job. Anyway.
Weddings.
There's a lot of love. Not just in the ceremony. Of course there's love in the ceremony. Even Tim's warm and smiling throughout the ceremony, the words doing little compared to the sincerity behind the promises. But there's a lot of love between the people attending. Not just love for each other, the way Neal and Malcolm are all googly-eyed over the other. There's love in the way that makes people strive to be better, work hard, help one other. Even if that help is currently taking the form of pretending to not see rocks slipped into their pockets (like that one guy Tim caught onto earlier). Anyway.
It's weird, the way sweet and gentle things are weird when someone's at war.
Tim has made a nest for himself in a table, in one corner of the room. He uses fatigue as an excuse to sit out most everything when he's allowed to (certain someones are pests), and any semblance of overwhelm is so very expertly disguised. Rue is on their way out the tent. Tim chews his tongue. Counts to three in his head and] Rue!
[He's still not entirely proficient in scrambling to stand, fixing the forearm crutches and, uh, just walking off. But he's getting better. Which should be a good thing. He doesn't know. Anyway. It's a bit of a hustle to catch up to an owlbear in his position. Tim's eyes light up when he finally manages, and he figures they're alone.]
no subject
And there's the whole above-knee amputation thing. It means Tim rushed to get the pants mended in some sketchy but efficient mom-and-pop shop if only because he would have felt... bad, with asking Rue to do the job. Anyway.
Weddings.
There's a lot of love. Not just in the ceremony. Of course there's love in the ceremony. Even Tim's warm and smiling throughout the ceremony, the words doing little compared to the sincerity behind the promises. But there's a lot of love between the people attending. Not just love for each other, the way Neal and Malcolm are all googly-eyed over the other. There's love in the way that makes people strive to be better, work hard, help one other. Even if that help is currently taking the form of pretending to not see rocks slipped into their pockets (like that one guy Tim caught onto earlier). Anyway.
It's weird, the way sweet and gentle things are weird when someone's at war.
Tim has made a nest for himself in a table, in one corner of the room. He uses fatigue as an excuse to sit out most everything when he's allowed to (certain someones are pests), and any semblance of overwhelm is so very expertly disguised. Rue is on their way out the tent. Tim chews his tongue. Counts to three in his head and] Rue!
[He's still not entirely proficient in scrambling to stand, fixing the forearm crutches and, uh, just walking off. But he's getting better. Which should be a good thing. He doesn't know. Anyway. It's a bit of a hustle to catch up to an owlbear in his position. Tim's eyes light up when he finally manages, and he figures they're alone.]
Hold on. I've got something for you.