Cornelius Hickey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
Entry tags:
angelo and the hickster's post-belle arctic adventures
MUTINEERS
SOLOMON TOZER
MARINE (T)
GEORGE HODGSON
LIEUTENANT (T)
CHARLES F. DES VOEUX
MATE (E)
MAGNUS MANSON
AB (T)
JOHN LANE
BOATSWAIN (T)
JOHN DIGGLE
COOK (T)
WILLIAM PILKINGTON
MARINE (E)
JAMES RIGDEN
COXSWAIN (E)
JOHN SULLIVAN
CAPT. OF MAINTOP (E)
ROBERT FERRIER
AB (T)
ROBERT THOMAS
MATE (T)
John Diggle
COOK
John Diggle
COOK
mutineers:
- Sgt. Solomon Tozer, marine (T)
- Magnus Manson, AB (T)
- Lt. George Hodgson, lieutenant (T)
- Charles Des Voeux, mate (E)
- Pvt. William Pilkington, marine (E)
- John Diggle, cook (T) - lung damage from inhaling goodsir's evil cloud
- THE STUPID FOX
Pvt. James Daly, marine (T)- mauled by the TuunbaqEdmund Hoar, captain's steward (E)- throw into the water by the Tuunbaq"Pvt." Thomas Armitage, gunroom steward (T)- mauled by the TuunbaqHarry Goodsir, surgeon (E)- rescued by Silna after the Tuunbaq attack
boat boys:
- John Lane, boatswain (T)
- James Rigden, coxswain (E)
- John Sullivan, captain of the maintop (E)
- Robert Ferrier, AB (T)
- Robert Thomas, mate (T) - actively dying of scurvy for the crime of having two first names
- and perhaps eventually lt. little depending on how much of our minds we lose along the way
Thomas Terry, boatswain (E)- died from scurvy before the mutineers showed upThomas Work, AB (T)- died from scurvy before the mutineers showed up
angelo cr chart
mutineers cr chart...
timeline:
- arrival; late july, mutineers' hill
- tent chats; early august, temporary camp
- spotting the ships; late august, terror camp
- tuunbaq attack; sept 1, ice floe camp
- boarding terror; fellas it's gay; early sept, hms terror
- dog to dog communication; early sept, forecastle
- bark bark bark; early sept, on deck
- coat! and post-tozer debrief; early sept, angelo's cabin
late august, 1948; terror camp
"Will it be of use?"
Tozer grunts. "Firewood."
"Mm. Don't waste the energy." Hickey flicks a spent cigarette onto the rocks. "Unless it bothers you, Solomon. I did think it cruel that they intended you to go second."
That doesn't get a response. Tozer lets his hollow gaze linger on the gallows for a moment longer, and then turns to trudge back to camp. Hickey follows, the faintest hint of a grin on his lips.
Terror Camp can hardly be called a camp anymore. A scatter of bloodied and broken things lays strewn across the shales: empty canteens, shattered crates, a wig with a rotting strip of scalp left inside. A few tents remain, though they've either collapsed from the wind or been shredded by the Tuunbaq. Worst of all, they were greeted by a line of charred corpses.
Hickey had not intended to return here, but once again the universe has granted him an unexpected boon. Amidst the destruction, Crozier's left them a cache of supplies. Tins of food, lamp oil, spare blankets, a few tools... even a box of ammunition, all packed neatly on an extra sledge. How thoughtful—though Hickey knows it was likely left behind out of necessity and only dressed up as an offering of kindness. He would've done the same.
While he and Tozer did their quick scout of the area, Hickey had left Angelo in charge of overseeing the setup of camp, with instructions to only unload as much as strictly necessary. The days are growing shorter now, little by little, accompanied again by a proper night that makes travel impossible. They will rest through the darkness and set off again at first light. With the wrack of ice jutting up along the northern horizon, they're too close to linger any longer than strictly necessary. ]
Angelo.
[ Hickey nods for his second to join them. It's a little unnerving, how indistinguishable Angelo is from the others now, at least at a distance. If it weren't for the shock of white hair, Hickey would have difficulty spotting him in the crowd. The way he still carries himself like he's above all this helps, too. ]
Well done. The sergeant can take it from here.
[ He looks to Tozer, adding a little questioning hum to the end of the order, as if it's a request. There's a beat of silence, and then his hand finds Tozer's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. At this, Tozer inhales, and then wordlessly moves to take over their camp construction.
As Tozer heads off, Hickey turns his attention to Angelo. ]
I want you to see something.
[ There's a flash of a smile as he starts them walking north through the remains of Terror Camp, but his demeanor is more stoic since they arrived here. More guarded. They're headed away from the gallows looming at the southern lookout post, but no doubt Angelo has seen it. It's difficult to miss. ]
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It's a duty he is happy to abandon when Hickey calls his name. Daly, surely, is equally happy to have his much more companionable Sergeant take over coordinating the set-up. Angelo's and Tozer's eyes meet briefly as they swap places, and Angelo doesn't resist the urge to scowl at him. (He does, at least, successfully resist the even pettier urge to trip him.)
While they are still within earshot of the others, Angelo follows Hickey silently. His nose crinkles in disgust at the stench of Terror Camp the closer they get to the charred bodies, ruined tents and rotting corpse parts. The cold has kept everything somewhat well-preserved, but that small mercy is largely lost on Angelo, who finds it revolting either way. The smell reminds him of a memory from so long ago that he can't hold onto it. (Or is that just his mind protecting him? Charred bodies smell of--) ]
So this is what the beast did for you. This is what vindication looks like.
[ There is no doubt in his mind on who those gallows were once for. ]
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For now, it's not a problem, though he's keeping a close eye on the two of them.
He notes, too, Angelo's tendency to reserve their conversations for when he's sure the others can't overhear them. ]
Yes.
[ What was the line he had used on Hodgson? Survival is a nasty piece of business. His eyes drop as he considers how much he wants Angelo to know, though he finds he has an odd compulsion to give him the full story. He's curious to see what Angelo will do with it. ]
Crozier was lying to us. Our captain. We were never going to make it out here alive under his command, but most of the men couldn't see that. They were too loyal to the idea of him.
[ They walk past the tattered remains of a tent, its canvas stained with a thick streak of blood. Hickey ignores it. These things have ceased to register as horrific to him. ]
An opportunity to change that arose. I killed two men and blamed it on the natives that Crozier promised would help us, but I was caught. Tozer, too. I gave the order to arm those friendly to us, and he did so. Following that order nearly cost him his life.
[ He shoots a glance at Angelo. Solomon has all but lost his bite since then, but he earned his position among the mutineers. What a force he was, especially that day. They made a good team. ]
I had a noose around my neck when the Tuunbaq attacked. It interrupted my last words. That's how narrowly I evaded death.
[ He says it to impress upon Angelo how uncannily fortunate its timing was, but the words twist in his gut. For the briefest instant, he wants to double back and tell Tozer to tear down the gallows after all. Burn it. Erase it from this reality.
Vindication. He chose the word deliberately because he chose the emotion deliberately. To say he felt relief would be to admit that he felt fear, and that won't do. Besides, it was the sour kind of relief. Not the relief of an exhale, but a dizzying near miss, a premonition of what almost was, felt in the body. The kind that would bring him to his knees if he were a weaker man.
But what good would such a reaction do? If he allowed himself to crumble over unproductive emotions, his corpse would be one more in the line of burnt bodies. ]
The creature's chaos provided a distraction for us to make off with one of the boats.
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("—You never intended to see the true identity of Full Frontal. You’re scared that the illusion shown on that mask will be destroyed.")
They leave the camp and the gallows fade out of view entirely. Gallows for two. Is it a bid to get Angelo to be civil, playing up the role Tozer played in all of this? Or is it sincere gratitude, real appreciation for a man who stood by his side through his horrific deeds and punishment?
Angelo wonders what it is that Tozer is truly loyal to. His "Cornelius", what kind of person is he? A liar and an opportunist? A leader and visionary? Tozer stood to be hanged with Hickey, but he never watched him die. He hasn't seen his desperate prayer, the steadiness in his hands as he mutilates himself for the favor of an entity larger than himself.
("—It's all a lie. Frontal just standing high above and he won’t help you, not in the past, and not in the future.")
The bear Angelo had seen regarded Hickey with cold indifference. The one here... What carnage. In his minds eye, Angelo sees the owner of the Blue Butterfly brothel dead on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. He's barefoot in the memory, disoriented and dazed, following a tall blonde stranger outside. Vindication. Is that what he had felt?
("—How pitiful you are.")
Angelo, who had been walking a half-step behind Hickey like a good and obedient second, speeds up a little and pulls up even. Would that the half-remembered voice in the back of his mind was outrun so easily. ]
You were lying to them as well. And you also don't care if all of them make it out or not.
[ Hickey is no better than Crozier - worse, likely. The mutineers may not know it, but Angelo does. He likes having that edge over them. ]
Why do you think the bear chose you over him?
[ If it wasn't all just coincidence - but Angelo doesn't want to believe that anymore either. The thought is too lonely. ]
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Why should I care?
[ There's a sharp indignance in his voice that he doesn't bother to bite back. Angelo has struck a nerve. ]
Solomon and Magnus are the only two among us that have shown me true loyalty. The rest are parasites. They made a choice to follow me because they believed doing so was more likely to ensure their survival—after they learned of what I had done to Irving and Farr. I have provided them with an alternative means of escape by putting my own life at risk. If they can't make use of that opportunity, that's not my concern. I owe them nothing.
[ Outside of Tozer, Hickey is sure that every one of his men would've gladly watched him swing if it meant evading the noose themselves. Even Billy. He knows damn well what Billy's stance was on risking himself.
But this is an anger that runs deeper than that. It's so easy to call out his individual actions as heartless when removed from the larger context. The luxury of morals. This world has never played fairly with him, and yet he's condemned for playing unfairly in response. It's a game he can never win. ]
The bear chose me because it understands that my approach is the necessary one in our situation.
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Angelo shakes his head and gives one of his thin, nasty smiles. ]
I never said you had any obligation. I certainly do not hold any love for those dogs of the British assembled here.
[ Though he has to wonder... Hickey, who also only makes choices that he thinks will ensure his own survival, what makes him any different from a parasite? Being parasitical is human. It's why humanity is so disgusting, so utterly unreliable. ]
It's the bear's thoughts I am trying to follow - what ends it seeks.
[ A destructive force, pure white. ]
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But, fine. Moving on. ]
It's a spirit of some kind, a god, controlled by the natives of this place. It wants us gone because we are a threat to its territory.
[ He assumes, anyway. Territory is the foundation of any empire, in one sense or another. Though Hickey is chosen, he's not naive enough to assume its entire path of destruction has all been for him. ]
Crozier has campaigned for its death since he learnt it existed, and by doing so he's turned a great ally against him. The creature and I have that in common. It won't make the same mistake with me.
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So as long as our goal remains to leave this place as fast as possible, it will have no reason to find offense with our actions...?
[ Well, that makes sense. He'd also want these filthy pests gone, if he were in the manbear's place. And the theory seems to hold, given they have not seen hide or hair of it in all their weeks of traveling. The sight of the ruined camped is unsettling, but that was long in the past. Angelo will try to banish the smell of burned human flesh from his memory once again. ]
I hope it tears that false Captain of yours apart instead.
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The little curse upon his nemesis helps, too. False captain. Hickey's smile returns, though it remains a touch grim. ]
That's the hope, yes. I expect it will have followed Crozier's group south.
[ It's a guess at best, but Tozer hasn't spotted the thing since before Hickey and Angelo returned to this world. They've no reason to think it's after them, and they've put a great amount of distance between themselves and Crozier.
Hickey starts them walking again. Their little stroll is all but pointless, but he likes to keep moving when he's feeling on edge. ]
We'll be back to the ships before it has time to catch up, should it decide to hunt us again. That's the shoreline, just there.
[ He gestures ahead of them to the jagged wall of ice they're headed toward. ]
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The everpresent furrow of Angelo's brows relaxes momentarily as he drinks the sight in. The vastness of the shale had been unsettling to him upon arrival, but it's been a month. Though his dreams still always show him a colony curve, Angelo has grown quite accustomed to the straight horizon line in the far distance. But the terrain of King William's Land is monotonous, entirely devoid of the sheer wonder that Earth is so lauded for in space.
This is the first change in their unchanging view and Angelo is... well, there's a small unguarded part of him that is genuinely excited about it. It makes him look a little younger than he is. ]
We're already at the ocean?
[ This is also good news for their general progress. Angelo's body is strongly protesting spending much more time hauling that horrid boat, and his hands are calloused and rough now. He can't wait to be on the ship instead... but more than, that, earlier than that! ]
Can we climb up and see it?
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It's nice to see Angelo happy.
He laughs, head ducking down as his eyes close with a slight wince. Moments like this have been happening more frequently over these past weeks. Hickey will find himself distracted by the sound of Angelo's voice, or his eyes lingering where they've no right to be. Angelo interrupts his thoughts near daily—and one of these days, he's going to move that bedroll over himself.
But he's been acknowledging these moments as inconsequential, fleeting things. Outliers to the status quo. His mind grasping at anything it can to keep itself busy. An idle infatuation spurred on by novelty and boredom.
That's how it started with Billy, too.
This is going to be a problem.
...Though, perhaps not one he needs to solve just this minute. ]
It's— sort of. A strait, I think.
[ He... does not actually know what to call this body of water. Some sailor. ]
And yes, we're going to climb up. I'd like to see if there are any signs of a thaw. I haven't brought you out here just to avoid manual labor.
[ Though that's certainly part of it. Hickey already does more than his fair share of hauling, if only because his new body has far more stamina than the others and thus he's become the key to keeping their pace. If he were to flaunt that stamina by helping to make camp, the men would get suspicious, wouldn't they? ]
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It's not a concern that has a lot of bearing on the current moment, at least. Checking for thaw is an entirely reasonable purpose, and Angelo is glad to get to spend time alone with Hickey, away from the prying eyes of the others. It's only when it's just the two of them that he feels he can relax. Angelo has always been distrustful and standoffish, but since the events at the castle, his ability to let others in has taken another significant hit.
Angelo speeds up their pace a little, now eager to get to the ice wall and conquer it. ]
Not 'just', huh? Though scaling that wall in full gravity doesn't look exactly leisurely either.
[ Truly, fuck full gravity, he's had enough of it. ]
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We'll manage.
[ Even in full gravity, which is a concept Hickey has yet to wrap his mind around completely. But a bunch of scurvy-ridden men made it up and over a few months ago, so the two of them should be just fine. It'll be more interesting than hauling. ]
Admittedly, it would've made more sense to bring Des Voeux. We'll need to send him up if we do spot leads. Perhaps Hodgson, as well.
[ As Hickey won't know what to do with that information. Few of them will, really. Leads will ostensibly make their journey easier if they're wide enough for the boat, and it will bode well for their chances of actually sailing the ship once they get to it, but only one or two among them are true sailors. That fact mattered little when they were just marching south, but now Hickey is wishing he would've selected his crew with those roles in mind.
He pauses, debating his next words—and studying the ice ahead, now that they're nearly upon it. Is it his imagination or does it look smaller than the last time they were here? ]
But you're better company, and I thought you might like to see a change of scenery. The earth is more interesting than this place would lead you to believe.
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It's unfair how Hickey sometimes responds to his inside thoughts as seamlessly as if they had been spoken words. The image of a red-clad back appears in Angelo's mind's eye - once, being understood so perfectly had been a given. To let someone else in feels like treachery - so Hickey just got lucky, this time and all the other times as well.
Pushing aside that complicated pang of grief, Angelo turns to look back at Hickey with a smile. ]
It better be. I've listened to years of plaintive litanies about its beauty - yet this place is about as appealing as the average asteroid mine.
[ It's endless and in that it is impressive, but that alone is easy to tire of. It just becomes unnerving. A prison without any walls.
Angelo addresses the Earth part of the conversation and lets the interpersonal stand as-is. Quietly, he is quite satisfied with it. Even if Hickey is just paying him lip-service, it is a fact that there would have been far more useful scouts. Perhaps Hickey is as desperate as Angelo to let loose every once in a while - to cast off the mantle of the infallible leader and become Elias for an hour or two.
He rushes the last few steps left and places a gloved hand on the ice wall, testing the consistency for himself. Climbing has never been a skill he had much use of, but he does not want to make a fool of himself here. The snowy part surprises him a little and he pokes a finger in. ]
Snow barely occurs up in the colonies. Setting the temperature too low messes with the functions. This is all new to me.
[ Which isn't a 'thank you for bringing me' but it's also not not that. ]
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[ Hickey trails behind as Angelo darts ahead. He faintly recalls this landscape being of interest, back in the first year of their voyage, as they sailed past bergs in Baffin Bay and began their journey into the arctic labyrinth. He would not have called it beautiful, but it was a small wonder, seeing such sights for the first time. A breath of fresh air after spending his life in the gloom of England. An adventure as much as an escape.
Now, he views this place as a barren wasteland. He dreamt of it sometimes at the palace, wandering this plane made up of only the most basic elements: wind, rocks, and ice. The desolation makes him uneasy. He can tolerate it only because of the men with him, two intolerable things somehow counteracting each other. He thinks of the desperation in how Hodgson stumbled toward them when they first encountered him after they split from Crozier's group. The void is not something Hickey can win against, and he knows it.
It's intriguing, then, watching Angelo paw at the ice with such curiosity, poking at the snow like Hickey once poked into Private Heather's exposed brain. He understands the fascination even if it is lost on him. What must it be like, experiencing a planet for the first time?
He tries to imagine the ice as more than just an irritating obstacle as he starts up it. It doesn't work. ]
Here's a climbing exercise for you, Irving.
[ He mutters it under his breath. Ha ha.
He's ascended all of two feet before he pauses to fish his gloves out of his pocket. Right, ice is cold. ]
You'll see plenty of snow yet. Even if the ships have come unstuck, it's doubtful we'll make it to open water before winter.
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Heights don't scare Angelo and never have - but heights with gravity are a whole different beast. Sure, there is full gravity in the colony cities as well, but down there he never had reason to climb anything. In the hangars, where it matters, he can float. He's really beginning to miss that weightlessness, especially with the way his muscles ache from heaving the weight of their whole equipment day by day.
So with that frustration in mind... ]
Well, that's... [ His foot almost slips and he yelps before regaining his balance. ] That's not exactly promising. But better a ship than those tents. They reek.
[ They reek despite Angelo's best efforts, which include using copious amounts of soap on the equipment and slightly more sparing amounts of perfume on himself. ]
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The ship will be warmer. More comfortable, too. I've had enough of sleeping on these damn rocks.
[ The smell... may not improve by much, but that's a reality he'll let Angelo discover for himself. They'll have access to seawater again for washing up, at least. He'd bet money that Angelo will make laundry his mission within their first day on board.
Hickey hoists himself over a ridge with a grunt. He sits there a moment to catch his breath. They're almost at the top; once Angelo makes it to this ledge, there's just a small hill to crest before they'll be able to see below. ]
There's a few more men on the ships. They stayed behind in case of a break up. I don't know most of them, but Lane's all right. The bosun.
[ Now he would have been a good addition to their little crew here, had he not elected to remain on Terror. Another happy coincidence with them heading back now—assuming Lane is still alive.
As Angelo catches up, Hickey stands again and offers a hand to help him over the ridge. ]
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So the ships have been maintained in your absence... that ought to save us some time.
[ If they had to free every vital part of the ship out of the ice that had begun to claim it, they might not make it out of here in time. Even Angelo with his limited understanding of sailing boats can grasp that.
With the hill ahead looking easily conquered, he does once again dare to venture ahead of Hickey, pace just short of what would be described as 'rushing'. After the drudgery of their ever-unchanging daily haul, he is starved for something new to behold - and he is rewarded as soon as he reaches the upper ledge.
When he'd arrived here, the endless white of the shale as seen from the hill had filled him with an odd sense of foreboding. Now, he's become used to the vastness around them, so what strikes him about the pack is not the expanse of it but the color. The shale was white only when compared to all the dirtied men and objects in it - compared now to the purity of the ice in the strait, King William Land is a dirty grey.
The ice is nearly blinding, but Angelo can't tear his eyes away. White, white, white, pure white. He is full of stains, inside out, but the immaculate white before him doesn't seem to care about that. A mercilessly beautiful whiteness that swallows him up and drowns out all his sin. The dark blue streaks of waterways barely register to him at first, despite ostensibly being what they are looking for. ]
It's so untainted... it's gorgeous...
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Water.
Directly ahead of their spot on the ridge, a fissure as wide as a city street has opened up. It spiders out into the ice, carving it into floes and bergs. Once Hickey's eyes adjust to the blinding expanse of white, he can see the pack churning in slow motion.
There's leads, and plenty of them. They can surely save at least a day or two sailing, though he suspects it won't be entirely easy going. Navigating these channels and avoiding the crush of the bergs could become challenging. They'll likely need to camp on the ice, as well. What an adventure this will be.
A shape on the horizon catches his eye. He squints at it a moment, and then his hand darts out to grab Angelo's sleeve. ]
Look.
[ Excited is not an accurate description of his tone, but only because Hickey is not an excitable man. There's real surprise in his voice.
A few miles ahead, two ships are drifting toward them. It's difficult to say how much progress they're making from here, but each ship has some sails up and they're far closer than were a few months back. There was a break up, after all.
Idly, Hickey snickers at the thought that this all could've been avoided. This march was pointless, as with the rest of Crozier's plans. Imagine how far along these ships could be by now if they were manned by full crews?
But that doesn't matter now. Crozier is likely dead, and if he isn't, he will be soon. Hickey has the ships, as well as nearly his full complement of followers—and then some. He's won, hasn't he?
Grinning, he points out to the ships. ]
That's Terror and Erebus.
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Now as a young man, tired from an endless march, his heart finally skips a beat at the sight of those seafaring vessels. Though these sailing boats are nothing alike to the Rewloola, he still expects that he'll feel much more in his element once they board. Being a lieutenant on a ship, that's something he knows how to do. The details will come to him with time, surely.
When Angelo turns back to Hickey it's with an unusually bright smile. There's hope at the end of this ice pack, and an end to their mind numbing drudgery. They're standing close, condensed clouds of breath mingling. Right now, that doesn't cause Angelo any discomfort. The ice in front of them is vast, but their world is small, intimate even. ]
We made it, then. We'll sail.
[ A victory for the two of them. The men back at camp don't matter. ]
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Or rather, the empire. The world, the universe, is much larger than he once realized, and some force operating within it appears to have finally seen him. He's had a streak of something akin to good fortune these past weeks. Despite the setbacks, it's all worked out in his favor in the end, although most of that can only be attributed to luck—or divine orchestration. Ish snatching him, his death somehow granting him immortality, even the odd circumstances that led his life to becoming entangled with Angelo's. His tenacity left him open to making the most of those opportunities, but he did not create them for himself.
He would have classed the ships on the horizon as more of that luck if he were here alone. But Angelo turns to him with that shining smile, we made it, and it hits him that he's due to celebrate not just how hard he's worked, but a real accomplishment.
He and his men are here because of him. His leadership broke them free from Crozier, from the empire, and he put them here, in prime position to take advantage of these favorable new winds. They will come out of this alive. His plan has worked. ]
We made it.
[ His voice is quiet, his smile lopsided and soft. He's shy in his elation. Relief is a vulnerable thing.
For a beat too long, his eyes linger on Angelo's. Purple, what a striking color. Elias inhales, and he looks as if he's about to speak—but he thinks better of it, allows this moment to remain what it is. His hand drops from Angelo's sleeve. ]
We've plenty of work ahead of us yet. Speed will be a priority, as we'll need to catch the ships before they move past us. I expect the leads will be difficult to navigate.
[ They're likely to lose sight of the ships once they're on the water. The pack is still mountainous despite the thaw. ]
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So what if it's a banal victory? What if it's a meaningless trial he has taken on out of sheer desperation? What if there is no end goal worth a damn? They still made it. There is time to feel guilty about his satisfaction later, when he's back in the unpleasant grey of the camp. With the white of the pack ice in front of him, he feels clean.
Hickey gets back to business, and Angelo lets his eyes drift back to the boats at the horizon. ]
Then we need to send De Voeux up as soon as we get to camp, and make sure everyone else is well-rested for the haul tomorrow.
[ As rested as can be, anyway. They all sleep like shit, knocked out by sheer exhaustion.
Yes, they should get back to camp. The day isn't going to last forever, and they will want to pack up their belongings bright and early in the next morning to cross the maximal distance in a day. Still, Angelo finds himself hesitating. The brightness up here is dreamlike, and returning to their men will mean facing their misery head-on. Whatever slight cloud of calm has come over him now will dissipate as if it had never existed. Angelo bites the inside of his lip. He can't bear the thought of sharing their private gratification with those pests just yet.
Angelo holds out a hand towards Hickey. ]
You have your cigarettes on you, right?
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As for the question, he lets out a slight chuckle. ]
Of course. I'm not going to leave them where they'll get nicked by the others.
[ No one would dare tamper with his things, but he'd never risk it regardless. The case perpetually lives in the inner pocket of his coat, and he fishes it out now to pluck out a cigarette for each of them. He strikes a match, then waves for Angelo to lean in a little closer so he can light both of them at once behind a cupped hand.
With that settled, he moves to lean against a crag of ice jutting up behind them, briefly casting a glance back toward camp. There's a small fire going now, and he can just make out Diggle preparing the spirit stove for supper.
Hickey keeps forgetting that such details are still relevant to Angelo, given he's no longer bothered by hunger himself. It's easy to think of Angelo as a mysterious spectre, too. He wears that attitude well enough. What was it he'd told Hodgson? He came down from behind the moon? The memory gets a laugh out of him. What a cover story—and one that Hickey will never ruin for him. Let the men stay blinded by their mutual intangibility. ]
Have you been on a ship before? Out on the water, I mean.
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Once, yes.
[ He takes a deep drag from the cigarette before continuing. Smoking is a habit he'd also been in as a younger teenager, but it feels different now. Back then it had been frantic, a way to placate his shaking hands and a way to poison himself on his own terms. It had tasted like filth, but that hadn't mattered. Anything would do, in those days. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs... Though addiction would have spelled his death, Angelo had danced on the brink of it, just to dull all sensation of being alive. Smoking now has a more leisurely feel to it. He doesn't feel compelled to it often, either. It's a thin invisible string connecting him to the Elias of that fateful night at the Promenade, and a small diversion for moments of downtime. ]
A class trip, back when I still went to school. Our colony only had smaller ponds, but we went to a neighboring one for a weekend, with a large artificial lake. The boat was tiny, basically just a restaurant on the water. I don't remember much of that trip, just that I hadn't wanted to go.
[ Leaving his mother for several days had been terrifying. ]
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Those concepts will settle for him over time, he assumes. They're not important now. Instead, he watches Angelo smoke. It's a good look for him—and Hickey likes how conspiratorial it feels between them. ]
Why didn't you want to go?
[ He could point out that boarding Terror will be nothing like that, but it's a given. He'll also wait to warn Angelo about seasickness until they're properly on the water. ]
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