WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW? If he couldn’t at least restore power to the damn place, there wasn’t any reason to stay. Not to mention his nosy as fuck neighbors would likely start to get curious if they noticed him being there, and he was starting to like the whole appeal of supposedly being dead to the world. Less people to deal with, no taxes. No bitch of a mother to come crying to him with false pity.
He recoils from the generator entirely, backing up so Waylon could get a look. Miles knew he could never start over. So long as he and the Walrider were one, they’d come looking – to them, this was just another breakthrough. If he could lure them away from Waylon entirely, give the man and his family a chance to live in peace, then he’d do it. Maybe telling the world wasn’t in his power, but he would bring this whole fucking corporation down. He only had to hunt down every single place the experiment runs… and then it would come down to destroying the Walrider as a whole.
But when he notices Waylon struggle, mostly due to his leg, something in Miles’ chest tightens. It’s not out of disgust, oh no, but out of guilt. If he’d been there, before the possession or not, he’d strangle that freakshow with his own damn bowtie. A side of Eddie to go with Trager, the main course.
“ Leave it. Don’t bother, it’s fucking shot. Literally garbage. Might as well break it apart for spare parts and set fire to the rest. ”
Besides, Murkoff would find him no matter where he went. It’d be better to stay in a place they’ve already checked, at least until he’s ready to storm the bastion, as they say. — Miles shifts, leaning his hip against the generator as his eyes come to a close. The mere thought of staying with the other was enticing, but there were a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t. Instead, he laughs dryly.
“ I doubt your family would appreciate having me around. Pretty sure I’d terrify your kids by existing. — I’ll just stay here. Get fifty dogs, board up the windows and doors, add a ‘ do not FUCKING enter ’ sign on the property written in lamb’s blood. ”
Waylon only hums softly in reply. still looking at the generator with a frown as he tries to think of some way to fix it. He was stubborn like that. Possibly why he made such a good software engineer- give him a problem and he’ll work at it for endless hours until it’s fixed. A flaw, too. Tell the man he couldn’t do something and he’d go out of his way just to disprove you.
He scoffs in amusement at the mention of scaring his kids, now shifting on the floor to be facing Miles a little more. “Scare my kids? Trust me, they’re more afraid of the dark.”
As much as it was a sarcastic jab at Miles, and as much as he wished that was a lie- that his kids were still the most innocent beings on the planet- they’d already seen things they shouldn’t. Both of them had watched their home burn to the ground as they fled. Of course, they didn’t know the full extent of everything, who Murkoff really were. But they did know people were after them. They knew that they could never give out their real names or leave mom and dad’s line of sight.
Some way to grow up, huh? Waylon would always blame himself for this mess. For dragging his family into something that would haunt them for the rest of their days.
“They’re tough kids. Lisa’s been buggin’ me to let her meet you since she heard about you.” There’s a fondness to his voice. There was nothing he loved and cared more about than his family. The only thing he had left, and really, it was all he needed. Looking up at Miles, he nods at the generator. “There’s no point in stayin’ here- there’s no heatin’ or anythin’. I promise, no one’s gonna mind you staying with us”
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