Why’d you even come around if you’re going to be such a downer?
Everyone can easily become happier if they acquire these few simple new things!
Can you just not take a hint, or what? Way to bring down the mood.
I got my eye on you, boy. Don’t even think about tryin’ anything funny.
Seriously, it’s like he goes out of his way to be sad or something.
You could at least try to smile.
Boney’s head rests heavy on the bedside. The dog looks up at him, dark eyes doleful and worried. He whines, smacks his chops, tongue peeking out the tip of his muzzle.
It’s late afternoon, but Lucas hasn’t found it in him to do anything these past few hours but lie in bed and drift in and out of uneasy sleep. He doesn’t stir much, only moving his arm enough to gently stroke his dog behind the ears. Boney turns his head, licks his boy’s hand.
Poor boy. He’s starting to get hungry, Lucas is sure. Okay. Up and at ‘em.
Takes him a good deal longer to get himself up and out of the bed than he’d prefer, but he’s up. Finally. He crosses the few feet to the other end of the house, catching his reflection in their sole mirror. His hair’s an unkempt disaster. What else is new?
He really shouldn’t have gone into town yesterday.
Lucas searches the cupboard and retrieves a few eggs and the flint, lighting the stove and readying the sole frying pan. Boney sits beside him, head tilted and ears drooping with a look that plainly says “Lucas, are you feeling OK?”
“I’m okay enough,” Lucas replies. Expression absent, he starts whipping the eggs into a wooden bowl. “Thanks for reminding me.”
He focuses on keeping the omelet from getting too thoroughly cooked, though his mind keeps wanting to wander.
He shouldn’t dwell on it but he can’t help it. Lucas can’t exist solely on his own. Boney is a pillar, but he can’t bake bread. And Flint’s never around anymore, so of course he has to go into town every now and again.
Ugh. It wasn’t so bad before, but after anyone that expressed any drive to help him out was driven out by lightning strikes...? He can’t rely on Alec; his grandfather is basically incarcerated. Lighter’s too busy trying to salvage the wreckage of his family home. Who even knows where Duster is, or the older girl from the castle.
The lightning is merciless. It’s as if God himself has a grudge against him, taken sides with the invader. No one but the passive and unsympathetic remain in Tazmily. It’s a wonder the people there are willing to sell him anything he needs to live at all, taking all the open hostility into account.
He flips the omelet and lets it cook for just a moment more before sliding it out of the pan. He cuts it in half, the center just soft enough to begin flowing out. Half is deposited into Boney’s dish. He sits down to eat his share.
It’s edible. Compared to Mom’s it sucks, but considering just how drained he feels it’s a miracle that it tastes this decent.