#palmeratom

@palmeratom​  said: "And we could be enough.” (Kendra)

@palmeratom​  said:“ Broke the thermostat again. I think it hates me. ”

“Ray--” She was seeing things for sure. There was no other explanation. Ray Palmer had died years ago. Blown apart to the point where there wasn’t even a body left for her to identify. Not that she would have needed too... Ray dying of an explosion in his office because of some tech he was working on was one of the only ways she ever saw him going. Even used to joke with him about it until it became an all too real reality for her. A part of her past that she had never really been able to move on from. She even still wore his ring he gave her when they got engaged around her neck. Tucked beneath her shirt. 

A reminder of who she loved. Who she lost. Yet here he was, standing in front of her alive and wel. 

“What are you doing awake?” Rip asks, like a damn hypocrite.

He knows full well that the cargo hold is where Ray tinkers with his suit. He also knows, full well, that in terms of their circadian rhythms, Ray’s probably the most fucked after Rip himself (the only reason for which being that Ray’s physiology isn’t nearly as ruined as Rip’s is, but such is the consequence of being a Time Master for a living).

But he’d gambled, wanting to believe he could drink and hate himself, in that order, in peace. Needless to say there’s a reason Rip’s not much for the casino scene.

At the moment he’s sat leaning against the cool metal of the ship, one leg stretched out before him and the other bent at the knee so he can rest his forearm over it. The telltale bottle of whiskey is held lazily in loose fingers, and Rip takes another quick sip of it and wishes he could get drunk quicker.