Bull-headed? [said with all the incredulity he can muster in these specific circumstances, as no one has ever called him something like bull-headed before. Is he really? Maybe he's taking after Cam in her absence, but only in the very best ways, of course.]
Punishment for self-care crimes? Maybe for ignoring my questions.
[Leaving him on read... the cruelest. Viktor can call it punishment all he likes, Palamedes thinks, as he believes he's made it fundamentally clear that it's all in the name of taking care of Viktor's silver doppelganger problem and seeing that he's well, if not in so many words. He'll make a sandwich; Viktor will eat a sandwich, and step... two-ish will be complete. Easy.
He's wondering if the rest will be easy, keeping the silver off Viktor and the double at bay, but Viktor's grip on his hand helps with that even before he really gets the thought going. There's going to be— there's no way he can think his next thought that doesn't sound at least a smidge awkward, but with the double still persistently plodding along behind them, there's going to be more touch involved, as per the working theory. Viktor's clutch onto his hand is some modicum of acceptance of that, he thinks, which is - good. That's good.
But the sandwiches can come first. The walk to the bunker feels more urgent the closer they get, and Palamedes has to resist looking at the double every few paces to see what it's doing now, if it looks any less solid, if it's looking back at them. Once inside the bunker he steers Viktor to the couch rather than the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, eyeing the double warily as he lets go his hand - and turns to go make a sandwich.
In fairness: it's less a sandwich and more two pieces of bread with some jam in between, do not perceive him, but it's food and it tastes good, and he brings it over on a napkin instead of a plate because that is just the life he's living. Here; eat of his sandwich and be well. He sits, and if he's staring intently at Viktor to see how much silver has come back in the handful of minutes he spent slapping jam onto bread, well.
no subject
Punishment for self-care crimes? Maybe for ignoring my questions.
[Leaving him on read... the cruelest. Viktor can call it punishment all he likes, Palamedes thinks, as he believes he's made it fundamentally clear that it's all in the name of taking care of Viktor's silver doppelganger problem and seeing that he's well, if not in so many words. He'll make a sandwich; Viktor will eat a sandwich, and step... two-ish will be complete. Easy.
He's wondering if the rest will be easy, keeping the silver off Viktor and the double at bay, but Viktor's grip on his hand helps with that even before he really gets the thought going. There's going to be— there's no way he can think his next thought that doesn't sound at least a smidge awkward, but with the double still persistently plodding along behind them, there's going to be more touch involved, as per the working theory. Viktor's clutch onto his hand is some modicum of acceptance of that, he thinks, which is - good. That's good.
But the sandwiches can come first. The walk to the bunker feels more urgent the closer they get, and Palamedes has to resist looking at the double every few paces to see what it's doing now, if it looks any less solid, if it's looking back at them. Once inside the bunker he steers Viktor to the couch rather than the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, eyeing the double warily as he lets go his hand - and turns to go make a sandwich.
In fairness: it's less a sandwich and more two pieces of bread with some jam in between, do not perceive him, but it's food and it tastes good, and he brings it over on a napkin instead of a plate because that is just the life he's living. Here; eat of his sandwich and be well. He sits, and if he's staring intently at Viktor to see how much silver has come back in the handful of minutes he spent slapping jam onto bread, well.
Yes, he is doing that. That is what it is.]