Another room is all right, Arthur tells himself, as he lowers himself slowly onto the couch. He can keep his voice down*. He's not going to ask the man to leave his own home just so that Arthur can have a breakdown in it.
Where does Giles actually get his ingredients from? he wonders suddenly, and not without urgency. Where does Ossie get his little biscuits and crustless sandwiches? Where do they get their cups of tea? From their personal cottage somehow, or from the ship? He's been trying very, very hard not to think of the ship as having dwindling supplies -- there's food in the buffet, there's drinks in the bars, he's been told the lights are on -- but when meals are skipped in the restaurants and the dining hall, it's hard not to see it as the visible hairline crack of a deep and foundational splitting. And he doesn't know if that's paranoia. He doesn't know. It must be: everyone else seems to eat and drink without worry, as far as he can tell. But he often thinks about the ship becoming its own shrinking, gasping pit, and the stories of sailors lost at sea without anything to eat, and the gnawing that makes you think you'll lose your mind.
He only manages to nod, this time, and his breath makes sounds in his throat as he breathes in. and out. and in. and out.
*down here is a space for you all to put your Doubt emojis.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-10-29 11:19 pm (UTC)Where does Giles actually get his ingredients from? he wonders suddenly, and not without urgency. Where does Ossie get his little biscuits and crustless sandwiches? Where do they get their cups of tea? From their personal cottage somehow, or from the ship? He's been trying very, very hard not to think of the ship as having dwindling supplies -- there's food in the buffet, there's drinks in the bars, he's been told the lights are on -- but when meals are skipped in the restaurants and the dining hall, it's hard not to see it as the visible hairline crack of a deep and foundational splitting. And he doesn't know if that's paranoia. He doesn't know. It must be: everyone else seems to eat and drink without worry, as far as he can tell. But he often thinks about the ship becoming its own shrinking, gasping pit, and the stories of sailors lost at sea without anything to eat, and the gnawing that makes you think you'll lose your mind.
He only manages to nod, this time, and his breath makes sounds in his throat as he breathes in. and out. and in. and out.
*down here is a space for you all to put your Doubt emojis.