Boromir holds out his hand to shake—and then realizes, as it hangs in the
air between them, that it’s covered in blood, both his own and the
monster’s. That pulls a laugh out of him, because it’s so gruesome
it has to be funny. He has the urge to excuse himself and reach for his
handkerchief, which is even funnier.
“My name is Boromir Wójcik,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a Well,
nothing to be done smile. “I would say it is a pleasure, but I fear it
would fall rather flat, given the circumstances.” Adrenaline is giving way
to a bone-deep weariness, one he has felt more acutely in recent years. It
was a weariness not unlike this, stretched out over months, that ended his
tour in the East.
“I can tend to the wound with what I have, at least until it can be seen to
by a doctor,” he says. “I am—I was a soldier. I have tended worse with
less.” It’s intended to be reassuring, though his face is drawn with pain.
(In the light it’s clear they have the same olive skin, and fear and pain
color it much the same way.)
“You should not leave this place again tonight,” he adds. “My rooms can fit
two easily enough—or I will rent another for you.” These are, by
implication, the only available options he sees.
no subject
Boromir holds out his hand to shake—and then realizes, as it hangs in the air between them, that it’s covered in blood, both his own and the monster’s. That pulls a laugh out of him, because it’s so gruesome it has to be funny. He has the urge to excuse himself and reach for his handkerchief, which is even funnier.
“My name is Boromir Wójcik,” he says, withdrawing his hand with a Well, nothing to be done smile. “I would say it is a pleasure, but I fear it would fall rather flat, given the circumstances.” Adrenaline is giving way to a bone-deep weariness, one he has felt more acutely in recent years. It was a weariness not unlike this, stretched out over months, that ended his tour in the East.
“I can tend to the wound with what I have, at least until it can be seen to by a doctor,” he says. “I am—I was a soldier. I have tended worse with less.” It’s intended to be reassuring, though his face is drawn with pain. (In the light it’s clear they have the same olive skin, and fear and pain color it much the same way.)
“You should not leave this place again tonight,” he adds. “My rooms can fit two easily enough—or I will rent another for you.” These are, by implication, the only available options he sees.