Re: promenade
The deck shakes when she laughs, and, well, that cuts right to the chase of whether something foul is afoot. "Not from you," he snaps, and holds the bat out in front of him as if they were about to fence, rather than over his shoulder to strike her with a home run blow.
He isn't the sort of man who takes chances. He can't afford that. Making it this far has been a triumph of will over the demons he fights, and he's not ready to give it up yet. There was a time when he thought he might throw in the towl, get down on his knees and let himself be ripped apart. But he changed his mind, given a little time down there. It got him thinking, bowing his neck for the big bad things, and after a bit he'd gotten back up and fished out the bat. No day was a good day to give in, not when there were other people at stake too.
Oh yes, that's right. There are still a few survivors rattling around, and while they all mostly keep to themselves and paddle their own lifeboats, he helps where he can. He's not the best at it, but he gives it his best. Self-preservation is actually a new impulse for him. He's used to being the protector of others, not of himself.
But if there was going to be a time to step up to bat, it would be now, alone on the deck with a witch who seems to delight merely in watching him squirm. "Ha ha," he says. She's toying with him. He knows that. "I just want to be left alone," he says, and though it's got a distinctly aggressive edge, that much is true. He really doesn't give a fuck what the bad elements do. It's when they sneak up on him from behind and taunt with displays of power that he gets antsy.