Re: Passages: Bruce B and Matt M
[After a pause to inspect the voice, the grate and whisper of it, Matthew moved forward. He was limping, and one elbow favored the set of his ribs along his side. There wasn't much to see of his face, not immediately, but at least he wasn't licking blood off of his lips. He didn't turn his head to either side as he progressed inward, confident that he was alone with this man that smelled of aged linen and chemicals. He was surprised that he did not sense more of the electric buzzing or powdered gloves that so marked Clementine's presence.
He was reassured, rather than put off, by Bruce's steady, measured heartbeat. It was solid and certain, much like James', and Bruce B. was not afraid of him.
Matthew used a thumb along the bridge of his nose to pull off the mask. Somebody had beat the tar out of him recently, that was for damn sure. It was amazing he could open both eyes, but he did, brown calm ones that obviously saw nothing. He progressed forward again, until he was within reach of the other man.] Ay, that I did. [The Irish in the mad mix with the antique British was hard to parse through, even in so casual a phrase. He gazed warily somewhere to Bruce's left, tense.]