Re: [Boating: Hugh and Atticus]
There was a nod, but also the truthful, "I could have communicated better," because he did believe that, whether at the beginning or later on when he'd shifted and hadn't told her. And he wasn't certain if he was jealous or not. Mostly he didn't think of himself as jealous, but he wasn't certain he'd ever tested it in anyway that mattered. And saying he didn't think he wanted it, wasn't maybe entirely true - he liked sex with men and women, and they were different, and monogamy was always going to mean picking one, unless maybe there was a shape shifter in town - he supposed, wryly, it wasn't outside the possibility. But he wanted something he could count on, and open relationships felt fraught with challenges that potentially undermined that.
"I do try to learn from things," he shrugged, bringing his mind back to the moment. "What's the point of walking through trials if you can't better understand yourself on the other side of them?"
A paratrooper plane with service men didn't really feel like the sort of thing that should make a lake weird, but on the other hand if ghosts were real - and Hugh had gone from believing in them in a lightly theatrically superstitious sort of way to absolutely believing in them since his time on the film set and in Repose - then perhaps multiple service men dying in a lake was enough. "Feels like an x-file," he said off-hand, having watched a bit of the season Theo had given him recently. Presumably Atticus would get that reference since he'd lived through the 90s anyway. "Are we certain it's not aliens?" But he doubted he'd have broken in either. Wasn't bold enough, no matter how bored he might get.
Hugh followed instructions and watched as Atticus moved, feeling the way the ship shifted and the way it caught the wind again. He'd felt it before, but he hadn't been paying attention, and this time he was, this time he could definitely feel it: "There's a balance in it isn't there?" He asked, eyes bright with curiosity and the sense of having figured something out. "Like, the wind, the sail, the direction of the ship?" It wasn't dance, exactly, but the physical sense of it reminded Hugh a bit of Yoga or Dance, only in the wood itself, and the cloth of the sail. "You've got to keep that balance to keep the boat moving... And up-right I'd assume."