It's a strange thing in a room, human connection. In the margins of the dirt and the grime and the action, at the edges of the mission, he often forgets the team exists outside of their operational value. It reappears, uninvited, in the small spaces between things. There is a violence innate in being witnessed, in being close enough that silence is no longer empty but inhabited. From the doorway, he watches Annie with Terror; traitorous little bastard that he is, tongue lolling while Annie scratches behind his ears, snub of a tail going, the whole thing. She doesn't seem to see him, and he takes the time to look her over. She's so bright, it's bloody irritating. Starlight exists as a counterargument to his anti-supe thesis. Butcher can feel the contradiction every time she opens her mouth, every time she takes a stance to fight for what she believes in, not against what she doesn't. [ It don't excuse what she is. ] But that pesky goodness in her is a fallacy he can't quite pin. There's no place to slot her amid the jumble of his shite worldview. And, Christ, he knows where he picked up that bad habit. He'd hated that about his old man most of all, the pisspoor attitude about life. The bastard could find rot in fresh fruit, spite in kindness, weakness in anything that didn’t bare its teeth back at him. Hated things simply because they existed within reach of his disappointment. Butcher had sworn, years ago, lying awake with split lips and a mouth full of copper taste, Lenny hiding at his side, that he’d die before turning into that kind of man.
Arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorframe, and against his will, a chuckle slips from his throat. It makes it easier, looking at the dog instead of her whilst she talks. He remembers doing that with Becca, too; using Terror like a buffer, like a way of speaking sideways at things he couldn’t afford to say straight. ❛ My Becca picked him out. Scraggly little bastard, he was. Breath smelled like death warmed up. She saw im, and that was that, won't have any other dog. Held him right up to my face, both of 'em giving me that look. ❜ Terror makes no move to depart from Annie's lap. He's happy where he is, and Butcher has to acquiesce ━━━ she wins this round. ❛ Knew I was done for straight away. ❜
