Pestilentem PC: Childermass + Blade

[justscribing]

Take the fucking leg you miserable English man.

Comments

[justscribing]

[Sometimes what someone holds onto matters enough to be worth the risk of death. Alhaitham understands that--if Childermass was certainly dead it'd be a different story.

But he's not. So he hasn't let go of hope. A man who could read fate would feel blind when forced to act on the unknown. But Childermass has never needed to be held back by such things.

Alhaitham's lips curl, just a bit smug.] I'm glad we've come to an agreement. I already have some thoughts on how to get the right pieces to have a prototype ready for you. One you can test and give feedback so we can refine the final design.

[They'll have that done by Wednesday evening and deliver it. Whether that's because Alhaitham hyperfixated so he didn't have to think about [redacted] is between him and Magi.]

[atouts]

[ Wow, Alhaitham, [redacted]? Really? Hmmm. ]

Yes... We will see what happens, won't we?

[ Until then, who's to say what will happen? Who will survive? Will they win, lose, will all their worlds be ravaged by the illness regardless? Will they even get a chance to argue over whether he should or should not return to England? He'll give his head a tired shake and eye Alhaitham. ]

Try not to look too smug, young man. It will give you wrinkles. [ And heaven forbid Alhaitham lose his good looks. No one would put up with the ego otherwise. ] You can fetch me from this place when it is ready to test. I do not plan on being much of anywhere else.