[Beckett can't block the sound out entirely. He winces, and bites back something tart and unnecessary at the boy's rather prosaic concerns. That is, after all, what the damn magic horses want. And he's a child, after all.]
[Hellfire and damnation, now he's feeling either guilty or indigestion. He doesn't owe any of these people a damn thing.]
[Besides, he's almost embarrassed for the boy. They may be prosaic but they're still his private feelings. Hearing them confessed is an intimacy he has emphatically no interest in. Like being forced to rifle through someone's underwear drawer. Just... icky.]
[So surely a unicorn will come along any moment now. It's quite a lot of emotional blood in the water. Any moment now.]
[Any.]
[Moment.]
[Now.]
...For heaven's sake, isn't that enough? What do the damn things want, a bloody memoir?
no subject
[Hellfire and damnation, now he's feeling either guilty or indigestion. He doesn't owe any of these people a damn thing.]
[Besides, he's almost embarrassed for the boy. They may be prosaic but they're still his private feelings. Hearing them confessed is an intimacy he has emphatically no interest in. Like being forced to rifle through someone's underwear drawer. Just... icky.]
[So surely a unicorn will come along any moment now. It's quite a lot of emotional blood in the water. Any moment now.]
[Any.]
[Moment.]
[Now.]
...For heaven's sake, isn't that enough? What do the damn things want, a bloody memoir?