Re: log: grant/matt, the woods
He wasn't going to hurt Grant. That thought rose up, unbidden but concrete, and his fist slowly relaxed again, finger by unfurling finger in this gloves. The movement was natural enough, gradual, smooth motion in the mechanical limb.
Maybe what he wanted to do if he came a step closer was reciprocate that hug, or grab him by the shoulder and see if he was actually there, or if this scene was about to dissolve into something else, another memory that was created, whole and complete as a film negative, and then shattered into powder by a burning spine.
"After Alaska," he said. "Came here." The other questions how? the platform? either fell on deaf ears or simply went unanswered, and he was right that they were striking something smooth and sliding off. He heard them. He just couldn't begin to answer.
"They didn't send you," he said. Cold, sharp, definite, cracked. "You'd never let them."