He rubs his head, making a fresh mess of his hair.
"Course we need it." That's not hard to deduce.
"Ain't gonna get it."
Sweeney's damn sure of that. Not given the breach and everything surrounding it. He's so fucking tired. But he's doing his best to take some level of comfort in Harkin's philosophy, clinging to the mindset that doesn't require constant pain, just because you're constantly in shit that inflicts it.
"Mm, never say never. We've gotten a few light things thrown at us, only a couple Good ports so far. It's not impossible. Just unlikely and that's sure as shit better than nothing."
He looks over again.
"So you're gonna be alright?" As alright as Red could be about Gutterson coming back, there were automatically assumed caveats to the question.
Sweeney’s not sold, but he knows he can’t argue it either. It’s not like there are never good things here; the bad just have a hefty lead in the running. At the question, he shrugs his shoulder and licks his lip.
“Dunn’t really matter all that much,” he points out, less morose than he might normally be. He’s just to a point of acceptance. Harkin’s been having a strong influence.
“Just need ta keep functional ‘nough ta stay off the fuckin’ floor. Found folk get ta be cunts when yer down there, an’ I don’t need that insult added ta my injury.” He blinks slowly as he studies the water.
“It’s fine,” he states decisively.
Just like everything else. If he says it enough times, it will certainly be True.
Raylan's face crumples in at all that, lips thinning a little. All of it was right, except-
"It matters, Red. I get what you're sayin', and we can still pretend its fine from the here and now, but if nothin' else, it matters to you. Hell, this whole thing, this whole process depends on it mattering to you, one way or the other."
He shakes his head a little and looks back out over the water.
"But that's fine too. Part of what we're here to do."
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no subject
"Course we need it." That's not hard to deduce.
"Ain't gonna get it."
Sweeney's damn sure of that. Not given the breach and everything surrounding it. He's so fucking tired. But he's doing his best to take some level of comfort in Harkin's philosophy, clinging to the mindset that doesn't require constant pain, just because you're constantly in shit that inflicts it.
no subject
He looks over again.
"So you're gonna be alright?" As alright as Red could be about Gutterson coming back, there were automatically assumed caveats to the question.
no subject
“Dunn’t really matter all that much,” he points out, less morose than he might normally be. He’s just to a point of acceptance. Harkin’s been having a strong influence.
“Just need ta keep functional ‘nough ta stay off the fuckin’ floor. Found folk get ta be cunts when yer down there, an’ I don’t need that insult added ta my injury.” He blinks slowly as he studies the water.
“It’s fine,” he states decisively.
Just like everything else. If he says it enough times, it will certainly be True.
/end
"It matters, Red. I get what you're sayin', and we can still pretend its fine from the here and now, but if nothin' else, it matters to you. Hell, this whole thing, this whole process depends on it mattering to you, one way or the other."
He shakes his head a little and looks back out over the water.
"But that's fine too. Part of what we're here to do."