"I may be an old coot, but I can still tell when something's bothering you," Barry looked towards the other as a father would when concerned about his son, because let's face it, Chris is his son. "And I also know you won't say something unless someone pokes it out of you. We're alone out here, just let it out."
` ( ⌖ ) 𝐈𝐭’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫
𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.
( … ) Simply breathe — relax, enjoy the bond in a peaceful, companionable quiet they’d managed to hold for years despite all the turmoil &&. weathering faced. Barry was one of the few who still had such a strong connection to the past — held that crystalline image of a bright eyed, spitfire young man in his memories as if it’d never faded to begin with.
Sharpened, never forgotten, sometimes it felt like his current state was often compared to how he used to be, back before the never-ending nightmare became one faced when wide awake.
They’d all changed since the mansion incident. For better or worse, it’d shaped them all in various ways far beyond their control. What image @movemnt held in this moment, peering at him as Chris silently clutched the fishing line with a hidden, white-knuckled grasp as he fought to keep his own rising anxious thoughts down under control — Chris knew he didn’t line up with it.
His current edges… they were so roughened, gnarled, left twisted in a way meant to defensively protect over invite as it had in the past.
Chris has changed — he knows the older man knows he has, the tension so pulled taut, near tangible in how it drapes in it’s weighted slump over strained shoulders Chris can only keep his gaze stubbornly directed down at the waters ahead, pretending to scan along for any bites or swimming fish over face Barry even as he speaks. As always, he isn’t one to mince his words.
He’s blunt, but his fatherly tone sands away any potential abrasiveness that could trigger his own hostility at being poked so boldly. It’s familiar. It makes him heave out a drawn sigh like something being reeled right from his lungs. A half-hearted shrug of a shoulder, attention still kept carefully away as he tries to muster up a reasonable excuse to misdirect. Nothing comes to mind. Shit.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, keeping his other hand firmly secured along the fishing rod, Chris squints at the former S.T.A.R.S. member with a grumble.
` ❝ ‘M pretty sure you’ve read the reports. ❞
Either that or Jill and Claire told him everything they’d managed to come across. It pieces together enough of a clear image that it reminds them all none of this is over. Darkened brows pinch together, teeth chewing at a dried, over worried part of his lips.
‘ ❝ I’m not sure what else you could get from me that you haven't.
heard first from the others. ❞
` * INBOX CLEARING.
( concerned dad is here to provide some angst )