you feel like home.

Every weekend when you're both able to, you buy takeout and gossip. Soap fills you in on the ongoing bet about when exactly ghost will realize gaz has been flirting with him for weeks, and you fill him in on your recent bedmates without noticing how jealous he is everytime you talk about them.

Right now, fore example, he's working very hard not to snap his chopsticks while you tell him about the guy you hooked up with two days ago. You wake a hand dramatically "like, I get that I'm into older men, don't get me wrong– but usually they can keep up with me!"

"What? Finally sent one into cardiac arrest?" Soap raises a brow teasingly, then adds "so what happened?"

"Nothing!" You toss your hands up, every bit dramatic and charming as you always are "why?! Because he couldn't get it up!!"

"Yikes." Soap mumbles more for the cue to continue, quietly thinking he'd never have an issue getting going if you'd let him–

"Which, isn't usually a problem, it happens yknow? But he was such an ass–" you scowl at the memory, takeout box crinkling slightly from how hard you hold it. Soap frowns too, mostly because he hates knowing someone you trusted to sleep with was mean, "he blamed me! Me! Said I didn't work hard enough!"

From the many, many, detailed accounts soap has heard from you he knows that isn't true. He's had dreams of you sucking him off from how often you talk about it. "What a cunt," soap sneers, knocking his shoulder with yours "bet his profile sucked too."

"It did! But he was nice, so I took a chance. Here, I'll show you–" you reach across the spread of food to grab your phone, settling back practically tucked into soaps side to show him your screen "here, look."

Soap leans over your shoulder, ready to verbally tear this man to shreds like you and him often do only–

John Price, 47.

Not looking for anything serious.

Soap coughs, doubles over choking on his food–

"Holy shit–! Are you okay? Johnny?" You gasp, slapping him on the back until he stops making concerning wheezes.

"That...that's my captain–"

"....oh shit, really?" You look back at the profile. Technically you never ended anything for good with him, just told him to fix his attitude. "Should I go back and bet blackmail?"

Thimble’s whole character concept engages with the narrative Brennan has created so well. It plays off the Tinkerbell trope, not just surface level, what if Tinkerbell had a sword! But what if Peter Pan wasn’t there anymore? What if Tink had to figure out who she wanted to be and what she was going to do?

Thimble’s whole life she was pretty little pixie, then a gift, then sidekick. She didn’t age. She didn’t change.

Now she has no choice but to do so. Change has come for her in a terrible and violent way, and meeting it head on, it turns out she’s terrifying. She can access an ability that’s only been a legend amongst her people, she killed the knight that took out Lord Royce nearly single-handedly. She destroyed the undead monstrosity that was Raimond Davinos despite the fact it could’ve killed her in one blow.