booker dewitt (washedaway) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2014-05-20 00:39:00 |
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Some days, Booker still had a hard time believing any of this was real. His life hadn't been one with much luck in it, so the idea that he had this second chance was a little hard to swallow. He was supposed to be dead. That was just the facts. Being here, with Elizabeth, that had never been in the cards for him. Still, he had to admit that he was glad to have this chance to spend time with his daughter, knowing she was his daughter. He still regretted...well...everything really, but mostly the fact that he'd given her up, that he'd missed out on so much of her life. That he'd doomed her to years as Comstock's prisoner. His prisoner. He was Comstock and Comstock was him. Different worlds and different paths, sure, but they were the same person. He had to stop shying away from that reality. And that he hadn't known who she was until it was too late.
Still, he had this chance now. And...he was kind of crap at it. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to interact with the young woman his daughter had become. It had been...not easier, but less complicated, before he'd known. When she'd just been a mission. A mission he'd grown fond of, to be sure, but a mission nonetheless. And now they were walking along the beach, enjoying the late spring air, and he was fumbling for anything to say. He was sure, somewhere, the Luteces were laughing. "Weather's nice," he said at last, immediately regretting the words. Yeah...he needed a drink.