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[weaponwithoutpurpose]

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[handleyourshit]

"I know. This is my end of it."

She tucks their hands up close to her chest, pulling his arm tighter around her, leaning harder into him.

"Because that's another difference between me and her. She's loved by someone who has never broken their promises to her. She knows she can trust that. I'm still learning."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, honey, I know," he murmurs before planting a kiss on her hair and pulling her against his chest. "And - fuck, I do love you, Rosita. I've been dancing around it, but I do. And I know you're not ready to - jump into it, I guess. That's alright. But you deserve to know that much."

[handleyourshit]

She would have recoiled, before; would have told him not to dare, not to say things he doesn't mean, can't mean, has no idea what they mean to her. And maybe it's her breach self still leaning on her, still wanting nothing more than to soak up the warmth of this man in particular, whole and complete in her trust.

Or maybe she just can hear him say that - I do love you, Rosita - and accept that maybe, after all, that's true. Maybe she can hear him say that and realize what a leap of faith it is for him, too.

She curls up small and tight against his side, wraps her free arm around him, and holds on like the water is rising.

"D'you care if I just pretend for a little while that I am? Just while I can still remember how this feels," she asks, eyes closed, pushing bodies on hooks and dead hands clawing up from the dark and the smell and feel of napalm grease on her skin.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He turns and holds her close. "Yeah. That's okay," he tells her in a half whisper. He'll let her forget what she wants, to believe what she wants, as long as she doesn't leave. As long as she stays here, right here with him. Talking about his brothers, his family, everything at home - it brings him down to a place he doesn't want to go.

That he can't go.

"But only for a few minutes, then we're watching River Monsters," he murmurs playfully.

[handleyourshit]

She makes a small hiccup of sound that turns out to be a laugh without raising her head or uncurling her fingers from his shirt.

"I'm going to start rooting for the damn fish if we keep that up, you know."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"That's what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to root for the fish to bite the shit out of the guys," he laughs. "If you're lucky, it'll happen."

[handleyourshit]

"Only takes one good one," she points out.

It's an odd spot to be caught in, halfway between who she was and who she is. It makes her say, "I know I give you shit, but I like learning about it."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He blinks and looks down at her. "Really? You do?" He just thought she tolerated it because it was on, because she bad to.

[handleyourshit]

"Don't get cocky," she warns, but there's no teeth to it.

"I like to learn though. Someday I may need to catch a fish the size of a football player."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Oh, yeah. That's a skill everyone needs. I'll take you to the river one day."

He feels lighter now, though. Something he never thought possible. Something that felt out of reach.

Though, speaking of the river -

"Hey, did Jesus tell you he talked to me?"

[handleyourshit]

She can sense the ease of tension in him, and it soaks through into her as well, though she makes no effort whatsoever to uncurl, to take her weight back. To put even a little space between them.

"He said he was going to." She doesn't sigh. She doesn't brace. It's easier, just now. "How'd that go?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Eh, I was kind of an asshole to him," he admits, but that's probably not surprising. "But it ended up alright, I think. He's worried about you."

[handleyourshit]

"He's used to it," she replies, unfazed. "Pretty much everyone left alive back home? Kind of an asshole."

And she's absolutely certain Jesus came out of it fine.

"I know he is. What'd he want?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Trying to get us all together to help you sleep," he explains, and he's pretty sure that Jesus was fine, too. Jacob isn't cruel; he's guarded.

[handleyourshit]

"Yeah. It's a little weird, right?"

She says it fondly though, sighing.

"He's been worried since I got here. I don't give him much he can do, so he's fixated on this."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"He wanted us all in the same room for it. I wasn't sure about it, but - he was really adamant about it," he says with a sigh.

[handleyourshit]

"Yeah."

Yeah, he gets that way.

"Why aren't you sure about it?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Not sure about him, I guess. Just - kneejerk reaction to someone coming in and telling me what's best," he admits.

[handleyourshit]

"It's the eyes that get you." Still amused, she relaxes back enough that they can talk more comfortably.

"Can't take him seriously, can't dismiss him. It's survivor mentality. Strength in numbers, and there's... something about knowing he knows what home is like."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Those eyes don't work on me," he snorts. "Not from him, at least. But - yeah. I know why you like him. He's a good guy."

But Jacob isn't, and he knows that.

[handleyourshit]

"Easily one of the best I know," she agrees.

But because she knows other things about Jacob, about how he thinks - about how she thought when she met Jesus - she adds, "He can handle himself. He's his community's best scout, and only fighter."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

Jacob gets a smile. She does know him.

"Seems like he can hold his own. Glad that you have him."

[handleyourshit]

"Mmhmm."

She traces a scar on his wrist, trying to decide which direction she wants to go.

"So what did the two of you decide?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Said I'd try it if you were up for it," he says, though, with all the shit that's happened, they haven't addressed it again.

[handleyourshit]

"I do want you two to at least get to know each other." For a lot of reasons.

"And there's something about all of us - he likes people he can take out into the woods best. We like people who can handle themselves outside the walls."