hmmmm been thinking about bentley again so lets do them and 13 maybe??
13. too loud
It's been three hours since the end of them playing the Mills. It's also been four and a half hours since they lost to the Mills. Time is mostly fixed. Mostly. The schedules for tomorrow look absolutely fucked, and that is not his problem to deal with. Little Deb is eating a hotdog. Can crabs eat hotdogs? She's a baby god. She'll be fine.
He can hear himself breathing. More than he usually, anyway. It's one of those things you usually tune out. It's easier to tune into it than deal with other things right now, so he'll deal. Both sets of ears in both timelines can hear both of him breathing, and for his own sanity he's managed to sync up with himself, but it's still loud. He drums his fingers on the table in front of him.
Little Deb finishes her hotdog, eyes swivelling towards him and looking hopeful. He scoops her up carefully, settling her weight on his lap and looking down on the crustacean.
"I don't have any more hotdog. The stores are closed right now, okay?" Gods forbid they pay people overtime, after all. "Tell you what. How about I tell you another story? I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
She wave a claw around enthusastically, the other one reaching up and pinching onto his shirt. He takes a moment, lets his breathing settle into a steady rhythm again, and pitches his voice to be smooth and quiet as he starts to tell Her about the construction work that's been going on down the road lately. It almost manages to come out at a normal volume.
(He doesn't want Her thinking the world is always meant to be shouting. That's the wrong lesson for Her to be learning.)
