What? [he asks, clearly bewildered at first. It's such a random thing to say that it takes him a moment to connect the cat thing back to a his thing. It must have to do with what happened in Tevinter, yes, but who/what/where?] Whose cat?
[ Another time he might employ an obviously, keep up you idiot tone. At this particular time—well. It turns out he's capable of something that looks like lost puppy eyes, or a cousin of them. ]
He—we left him. [ He blinks. Realizes what his face is doing, maybe, and hardens the edges. ] In Minrathous.
[Colin's stomach sinks to his shoes. That glimmer of sincerity in Kostos' eyes speaks more than his words. Gareth was left behind. In hiding, capture, or killed. Missing. That's the word. Missing in action. And everyone knows missing really means dead.
What's he supposed to do? Not in the long term, but immediately. Does he go back to doing what he was doing before? Does he sit down? Is that an acceptable expression of grief, sitting down, or is that too dramatic? What would Gareth want him to do? He'll have to inanely ask him when he sees him later. Except that's not happening. Wait. Does he grieve? Grief isn't a process a person can reverse. Gareth may be fine. Gareth might be tearing up the streets of Minrathous and organizing a resistance cell. He must be so happy.
Oh, there was a question about a cat. Gareth's cat needs a sitter and apparently that's the part that's being foisted on Colin. All these heroic heroes fighting and saving people and freeing the mages, and here's Colin. Reconciling the books. Cooking lunch. Catsitting. He was never an ambitious person, so maybe it's for the best.]
Um. Yeah. [And before he realizes it, he has figured out what to do in the immediate: take his hair out of its braid and rebraid it. His hands are being sort of autonomous about it.]
[ a cat person—except he is, for the most part, and an animal person in general.
there enough—that would be better, and mostly true, between the office and the taverns and the days in the field, but if that was all there was he would find another way.
not capable of watching Ghast look for him—the actual reason, but fuck if he’ll say so.
So he doesn’t say anything. Never mind that sentence. He rubs his eyes and starts fresh with, ]
[Gareth is missing. It's like having a thought or sentence half-finished, in the worst way possible. What is Colin supposed to do in the long-term, now that his hair is rebraided? Find the next short-term thing.]
Of course. I'll...I'll be in my quarters this evening.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
What? [he asks, clearly bewildered at first. It's such a random thing to say that it takes him a moment to connect the cat thing back to a his thing. It must have to do with what happened in Tevinter, yes, but who/what/where?] Whose cat?
no subject
[ Another time he might employ an obviously, keep up you idiot tone. At this particular time—well. It turns out he's capable of something that looks like lost puppy eyes, or a cousin of them. ]
He—we left him. [ He blinks. Realizes what his face is doing, maybe, and hardens the edges. ] In Minrathous.
no subject
What's he supposed to do? Not in the long term, but immediately. Does he go back to doing what he was doing before? Does he sit down? Is that an acceptable expression of grief, sitting down, or is that too dramatic? What would Gareth want him to do? He'll have to inanely ask him when he sees him later. Except that's not happening. Wait. Does he grieve? Grief isn't a process a person can reverse. Gareth may be fine. Gareth might be tearing up the streets of Minrathous and organizing a resistance cell. He must be so happy.
Oh, there was a question about a cat. Gareth's cat needs a sitter and apparently that's the part that's being foisted on Colin. All these heroic heroes fighting and saving people and freeing the mages, and here's Colin. Reconciling the books. Cooking lunch. Catsitting. He was never an ambitious person, so maybe it's for the best.]
Um. Yeah. [And before he realizes it, he has figured out what to do in the immediate: take his hair out of its braid and rebraid it. His hands are being sort of autonomous about it.]
no subject
I’m not—
[ a cat person—except he is, for the most part, and an animal person in general.
there enough—that would be better, and mostly true, between the office and the taverns and the days in the field, but if that was all there was he would find another way.
not capable of watching Ghast look for him—the actual reason, but fuck if he’ll say so.
So he doesn’t say anything. Never mind that sentence. He rubs his eyes and starts fresh with, ]
I can bring him to you later.
no subject
Of course. I'll...I'll be in my quarters this evening.