You said your tattoo represented your family, right?
[He's unbuttoning his own shirt as he says that, slides it off his left arm - to reveal the two black bands, thick and simple, still raw from their recentness, around his bicep.]
Why don't you get one for your new family? Gaunt and the other Ghosts.
[The top band is thicker than the bottom one, though not by much, and Tim's arm tenses automatically at the light touch. He doesn't know if Rawne knows what they mean specifically.]
Take your time, you know? You've got plenty of it. Give it some proper thought. I'm not much of an artist but I'll be happy to help with anything you need.
Got it done on port, day before we left. [His voice is soft, looking back down at it to avoid Rawne's gaze, even if his tone is otherwise neutral.] They're just memorial bands - for my younger brother, and... a good friend.
Yeah, maybe get something a bit more concise for yours. I'm lucky I've only got the two.
[He flips his shirt back over his shoulders to button it up again. Now that Rawne knows it's there, it's just barely possible to make it out under the sleeve.]
[To be fair, neither does Tim. But he's also a very good hypocrite, and it's always easier to help other people manage their feelings.
He's straightening himself up as he talks, tucking his shirt back in and fixing his belt so Rawne doesn't need to give him eye contact if he doesn't want.]
You haven't been back a month yet, and it's a new idea. Let yourself mull over it some, yeah? Pace yourself.
[Some is enough. It makes Tim smile again, warm with an air of relief to it, and he puts a hand on Rawne's forearm again, to hold him lightly in place while he leans up to kiss his cheekbone.]
Well, make sure you use 'em. You're allowed to lean on people here, might as well make the most of it.
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[He's unbuttoning his own shirt as he says that, slides it off his left arm - to reveal the two black bands, thick and simple, still raw from their recentness, around his bicep.]
Why don't you get one for your new family? Gaunt and the other Ghosts.
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Yeah... yeah. I should. I'll figure out a design.
[He thinks of Gaunt's power sword, the one he always kept at his side. The one that was missing when the Admiral woke him up. Maybe that?]
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Take your time, you know? You've got plenty of it. Give it some proper thought. I'm not much of an artist but I'll be happy to help with anything you need.
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I'll go to you, yeah. You're one of the few people here I trust with a sharp instrument near my skin.
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Oh God, don't do that. I got these done, I haven't even seen a bloody stick and poke set.
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Who made it, then? And... what's it mean?
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[He smiles wryly.]
Don't think I'll get those. I'd have to take up both my arms.
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[He flips his shirt back over his shoulders to button it up again. Now that Rawne knows it's there, it's just barely possible to make it out under the sleeve.]
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[He shifts a little, away from Tim and back. He's not sure how to talk about this stuff, sometimes.]
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He's straightening himself up as he talks, tucking his shirt back in and fixing his belt so Rawne doesn't need to give him eye contact if he doesn't want.]
You haven't been back a month yet, and it's a new idea. Let yourself mull over it some, yeah? Pace yourself.
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Pace myself. Yeah. It's been... a lot.
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[Not a lot, but some.]
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Well, make sure you use 'em. You're allowed to lean on people here, might as well make the most of it.
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I know I should, it's just... I haven't had many people to lean on, for a while. And Gaunt died.
[Gaunt, who'd become his closest friend after Gereon. Who'd listened to him when he talked.]