[ The quip earns a short laugh from him as he drops his hand away to the bartop again because: if only. ]
I wish. I would've even taken the old 'oh no, I overslept for an exam' since I had that one a few times even after we were no longer at the monastery. Then again, at least my mind was accurate for that one since I did do that once. Teach never let me hear the end of it, in his own way.
[ By helpfully reminding Claude of the time for everything and anything scheduled, even right up through the war. There'd been a vague sort of smile on his face at a much more pleasant memory - especially compared to the last time the Singularity decided he needed to see Teach everywhere - but it fades with knowing what should be a throwaway line about minds and accuracy is too close to what he's avoiding.
He's silent for a bit, once again running fingertips over the scratches and dents in the wood their arms are resting on. Though Claude had thought admitting this much, little as it is, would make the urge to talk about it vaporize: it hasn't. It feels more pressing, as if the weight of it's sitting in his throat now like it wants to choke him. It might. Another drink goes with that like it'll clear it away; it doesn't. ]
The ones I had - they were all about Gronder, and they weren't that far off from the ones I had about it long before arriving here. Just a lot more vivid.
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I wish. I would've even taken the old 'oh no, I overslept for an exam' since I had that one a few times even after we were no longer at the monastery. Then again, at least my mind was accurate for that one since I did do that once. Teach never let me hear the end of it, in his own way.
[ By helpfully reminding Claude of the time for everything and anything scheduled, even right up through the war. There'd been a vague sort of smile on his face at a much more pleasant memory - especially compared to the last time the Singularity decided he needed to see Teach everywhere - but it fades with knowing what should be a throwaway line about minds and accuracy is too close to what he's avoiding.
He's silent for a bit, once again running fingertips over the scratches and dents in the wood their arms are resting on. Though Claude had thought admitting this much, little as it is, would make the urge to talk about it vaporize: it hasn't. It feels more pressing, as if the weight of it's sitting in his throat now like it wants to choke him. It might. Another drink goes with that like it'll clear it away; it doesn't. ]
The ones I had - they were all about Gronder, and they weren't that far off from the ones I had about it long before arriving here. Just a lot more vivid.