[Steve knew he was in trouble a long time before he acknowledged it. Not that there was anything he could do about it. The only comfort he had was that saying something would be the worst possible choice. Having a concrete path was helpful. He wouldn't make the same mistakes again, and he wouldn't cause himself needless pain.
That said, he couldn't not care.
He'd started carving back in the war as a way to pass the time. War was ninety percent waiting and hoping the predictions came true and gave you the chance for action, so people developed hobbies. It just wasn't practical to carry a sketchbook, but he had to do something creative. Playing cards was mind-numbing, but he had a knife, and there was usually some form of wood laying around somewhere. Didn't matter if it was a stick or a piece of broken furniture or a re-worked statue someone had already done. It kept him busy.]
[Steve had picked up the chunk of wood from outside the hotel shortly after he arrived and he'd been working it ever since, the piece slowly coming to resemble something recognizable eventually. He'd finished it recently and known exactly who he'd be giving it to. There was only man it was fit for.
He texted James once the power was back, when he thought the man might have a minute or two of downtime. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but as he wrapped the gift, he wondered, was it a mistake?]
Wildcard (private text)
That said, he couldn't not care.
He'd started carving back in the war as a way to pass the time. War was ninety percent waiting and hoping the predictions came true and gave you the chance for action, so people developed hobbies. It just wasn't practical to carry a sketchbook, but he had to do something creative. Playing cards was mind-numbing, but he had a knife, and there was usually some form of wood laying around somewhere. Didn't matter if it was a stick or a piece of broken furniture or a re-worked statue someone had already done. It kept him busy.]
[Steve had picked up the chunk of wood from outside the hotel shortly after he arrived and he'd been working it ever since, the piece slowly coming to resemble something recognizable eventually. He'd finished it recently and known exactly who he'd be giving it to. There was only man it was fit for.
He texted James once the power was back, when he thought the man might have a minute or two of downtime. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but as he wrapped the gift, he wondered, was it a mistake?]
Hey. You got a minute? I have something for you.