[ That it takes this long is due equally to Nell and to Nikos. Nell—she can go die, and he’s pretty sure, almost completely convinced, that he won’t care, but he’s never betrayed her confidence before, no matter however much he disagreed with her about something, and if nothing else that gives him a sense of martyred moral satisfaction. Look what he won’t stoop to. He won’t turn her in. He won’t even tell Nikos she told.
And Nikos, he’s almost been getting along with. Or he’s felt like he had a brother in the present tense, which doesn’t require getting along at all to be a step up from feeling like he doesn’t have anything except something from his past come back to irritate him. For as long as Kostos doesn’t see him again, doesn’t talk to him, he doesn’t have to shatter that and set it on fire.
But the Gallows aren’t that big or that densely populated, and Kostos does see him eventually, sitting on a bench in an otherwise deserted courtyard. Once that’s happened there’s no real decision to make. Maybe that’s why there’s nothing unusual about his approach; the way he walks, the look on his face, he could be going over to tell Nikos his beard looks stupid. He doesn’t know. He isn’t thinking about it.
Usually, in this sort of situation, Kostos throws a punch first. Leaves open the possibility that he’ll stay on his feet and maintain his dignity, even if it rarely works out that way.
This isn’t usual. This is Nikos. It’s Nell. It’s a dead Grand Cleric, a face and a name to put to wrecked hope, someone specific to blame, and Kostos skips the pretense of civilized fisticuffs and launches straight into a full body tackle, with one fist and one clutching, clawing hand both searching for something to hurt. ]
closed.
And Nikos, he’s almost been getting along with. Or he’s felt like he had a brother in the present tense, which doesn’t require getting along at all to be a step up from feeling like he doesn’t have anything except something from his past come back to irritate him. For as long as Kostos doesn’t see him again, doesn’t talk to him, he doesn’t have to shatter that and set it on fire.
But the Gallows aren’t that big or that densely populated, and Kostos does see him eventually, sitting on a bench in an otherwise deserted courtyard. Once that’s happened there’s no real decision to make. Maybe that’s why there’s nothing unusual about his approach; the way he walks, the look on his face, he could be going over to tell Nikos his beard looks stupid. He doesn’t know. He isn’t thinking about it.
Usually, in this sort of situation, Kostos throws a punch first. Leaves open the possibility that he’ll stay on his feet and maintain his dignity, even if it rarely works out that way.
This isn’t usual. This is Nikos. It’s Nell. It’s a dead Grand Cleric, a face and a name to put to wrecked hope, someone specific to blame, and Kostos skips the pretense of civilized fisticuffs and launches straight into a full body tackle, with one fist and one clutching, clawing hand both searching for something to hurt. ]