miles baines: riff-raff! street rat! (mimicks) wrote in emillion,
THE APPROACH: rhys & miles.
The day had been dragging on for a while, the long ride turning interminable. Miles was painfully aware of every single stilted silence between him and Rhys—normally they were a laughing pair, practically completing each others’ damned sentences, having found an easy rapport over the years.
But today, the silence wore on and grating, like a pebble caught in his boot. Rhys was glowering, Miles was glowering, and conversation had become nonexistent between the pair of friends. Meanwhile, the mime could overhear snippets of conversation and song from their compatriots, only making the emptiness over on this side all the more conspicuous.
Finally, when they stopped the carriage for a break and went to stretch their legs and piss into the bushes, Miles had finally had enough.
“Alright,” he said. “You can’t bloody well ignore me all weekend. Let’s have it.”
The heist was supposed to be a well-oiled machine, a carefully-constructed factory moving parts, a precarious balance—he couldn’t have anything be out of order between them.