Re: Quicklog, Bioshock: Elena M & Cris M
[These weren't other circumstances, so it didn't matter. Cris, who'd just wanted the woman to sign the papers, not wander off into some sealab hell and scream nasty things at Sam publicly, was ready to go home. That foundational facet of his being, willingness to fight for what he believed, was dampened here, with Elena. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care if she would've argued, he didn't care if she agreed, he didn't care about any of it, except that they get back, so he could see Sam and Teresa. He'd send Elena to the hospital and he'd go home, where he'd wanted to be in the first place, and he'd go to sleep.
It was an unfamiliar feeling, that exhaustion, gray, dull, and he looked at Elena with it reflecting in his gaze. He was tired of her. There was no other person he could think of who made him want to be silt, settled at the bottom of a river. He just wanted to get away from her. He was done.] Me alegro, [he told her, just before shaking off the knapsack and tossing it in the submarine. He reached out to take the gun from Elena—which he did, whether she gave it up easily or not, and then he got in.
He waited for her to climb in after in his jacket, sopping and wincing, and then he closed the thing behind her.
When the door opened again, it was on land, on musty carpeting and an array of doors. He actually smiled then, small and pleased.] They're gonna call the cops because of the wound. You better come up with a story. [Cris spoke as he lugged the pack and his guns to the staircase, hotel dust for once welcome as it settled in his eyelashes and hair.] I'll bring Teresa by to stay the night and I'll get her tomorrow morning.