the box of pastries sent by wyatt had been, to be honest, a touching gesture that lars never expected.
he thought the other disliked him at best, resented him at worst, and he was perfectly fine with that. not all of them could be friends. but to see wyatt’s care, baked into each pastry lovingly … he couldn’t help but return the favor. the iceborn knocked on the door of the phobos cabin roughly one morning, a series of heavy tappings that echoed. standing on the porch, he held a haunch of venison in one hand, freshly procured, and a few sprigs of cedar in the other.
“it’s, uh, um,” a rough drawl, a smattering of syllables, “it’s lars.”
hopefully the other was home.
@pavetisprescott
There's a rougher side to Wyatt, one driven by emotion, by trauma. A side that has his jaw clench, and causes him to be unkind at times. It's something that he tries to keep at bay, usually not wanting to be unpleasant, he tries giving people the benefit of the doubt. Lord knows he wants others to offer him the same grace. He'd be a hypocrite not to do the same. He'd been so overcome with guilt, realizing how he'd misjudged Lars, and how he'd treated him with a gruffness the man hadn't deserved. With how intense, and confusing things could get sometimes Wyatt couldn't make heads from tails. And...Lars had shown him kindness even when he didn't deserve it, and so Wyatt needed to correct his mistake, and make amends. That's why he'd left the box of pastries at his door. Well, that and the terrible, awful news he'd received. He's not sure the baked goods helped much in that regard, but he had needed to show the man some kindness. A genuine gesture of good faith. Things haven't gotten any easier since then. Wyatt has been confronted with many hard truths, leaving him reeling. He left camp for a couple of weeks, and he's been holed up in his cabin, or training himself to death. He can't shake the empty feeling growing inside of him, the feeling of fighting against the inevitable. He's staring at the ceiling of his room in silence, not having been able to sleep. Again. And then there's a knock at his door. Wyatt's brows furrow for a second, not remembering making any plans with anyone. Did he forget? He gets out of his bed slowly, in just his sweats, and his tousled curls, and goes to open the door. Lars. And the early morning sun. And...a slab of meat. He quirks a brow, looking at the meat in Lars' hand in surprise for a second, before turning his gaze back up to him. A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips, the first smile he's worn in a couple of days. "Kinda early for this kinda thing, ain't it?" He asks, his smile widening slightly as his stomach grumbles, betraying his words. Had he eaten yesterday? Wyatt then moves to the side, gesturing into his cabin. "Come on in, Lars. Sorry 'bout answerin' the door like this," he scratches the back of his neck anxiously, "I was, uh, sleepin..." Wyatt doesn't sound confident in that, but what else could he say? It's kind of a lie, but also kind of the truth. He doesn't want to pester Lars with his issues.
