[Lord knows Omar Little does not rattle easily, but he sees Ricki spook, attuned to him by now in a thousand little ways, and between the wild flash in his eyes and what looks like, for all intents and purposes, the sudden revival of his corpse, Omar's heart practically leaps into his throat. He manages to go very still in turn as Ricki hauls himself up, his muscles rigid under his hand, his eyes wide.
It takes him a moment to realize he's actually holding his breath. He swallows and lets it out slowly, fighting a shudder.]
Lord God, Ricki...
[He reaches out and pulls Ricki to him, clasping his head in his hands, resting his forehead against his.]
[He holds Ricki close and breathes deep. Somehow, it had never occurred to him either that he's never seen Ricki death tolling, and the tight, panicky feeling in his chest takes a moment to ebb away again. The scent of him is still the same despite the clinical odor of the infirmary around them, though, and the feel of his body in Omar's arms is the same despite the hospital attire, and he still feels warm and vital. It all helps. A death toll, yes, but not a dead body; not another dead lover to mourn.
He nuzzles into him after a moment and kisses one cheek, trailing his knuckles gently over the other.]
I know.
[He settles a little, shifting to squeeze in next to him on the bed.]
I think I told y'all -- I took my first one real hard.
[He wonders, rolling onto his side so they have a little more room, inviting Omar to curl up to his back, and tuck an arm around his waist, tugging the thin pillow down so they can get more comfortable.
He holds his hands differently, in protective, uncomfortable half-fists. Normally, with the limited privacy the infirmary affords, this would be out of the question, but today he's too drained to care.]
[The infirmary isn't exactly comfortable at the best of times, and Omar has traditionally avoided it even when mid-death toll -- but he gives in to Ricki more often than not, and now is no exception. He spoons up behind him, taking one of his hands, resting his chin on his shoulder.]
First time dying was easy on me, more or less. The breach, though...
[Ricki lasts until Omar gets to the knuckle that Eggsy really worked over, and then takes his hand, lifting it up to press flat over his heart instead, holding it there and still.]
It was him. Or, a stranger with his face, killing a stranger with my face. He'll remember it from the inside, though, won't he?
[He fights back a shudder and tries, very hard, not to think about Ricki dying something he would call a slow death. Not when he knows he can't take his gun and go blow Eggsy's head off, even though there's a split second where he wants to anyway. It's not a fair impulse, he knows: he likes Eggsy fine, even as uncomfortable as he'd been in his house, and he knows whatever memories Eggsy has aren't his fault.
But it goes without saying that torture does not sit well with Omar Little, and especially not when it comes to the man he loves.
He'll feel bad for Eggsy in a minute, truly. Right now, he forces it:]
Boy best have a deal coming his way.
[He knows the last breach had been bad for him, too, after all.]
Come on. Reason through it, don't feel it. That's the only thing there is to do, at a time like this. Anything else just makes it worse.
[Though that dispassion might pay for itself later, when this all good and sinks in for him down the road. But right now, in semi-public, Ricki is quiet and composed about the whole thing.]
[He lets out a soft, frustrated sound. He'd been trying to push himself to be compassionate for Eggsy instead of wanting to shoot him in the throat. Apparently, it hadn't worked that well, at least not outwardly.]
I mean, your boy had it rough these past couple times. Best have something worth staying for, to be sticking around through all this shit.
[He really, truly cannot think of a better word right now.]
[Says Ricki, surprised into rolling over to face him fully, to setting an arm around his waist and tangling their feet, close to nose to nose on the little cot.]
Thanks- yes. He really does.
[And for that, he steals a quick kiss, since no one is too near by.]
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It takes him a moment to realize he's actually holding his breath. He swallows and lets it out slowly, fighting a shudder.]
Lord God, Ricki...
[He reaches out and pulls Ricki to him, clasping his head in his hands, resting his forehead against his.]
Sorry, baby. I'm sorry.
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[Says Ricki, abjectly, putting his arms around Omar's shoulders and just leaning into him.]
I know it wasn't me, but these are some memories I don't want in my head, you know?
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He nuzzles into him after a moment and kisses one cheek, trailing his knuckles gently over the other.]
I know.
[He settles a little, shifting to squeeze in next to him on the bed.]
I think I told y'all -- I took my first one real hard.
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[He wonders, rolling onto his side so they have a little more room, inviting Omar to curl up to his back, and tuck an arm around his waist, tugging the thin pillow down so they can get more comfortable.
He holds his hands differently, in protective, uncomfortable half-fists. Normally, with the limited privacy the infirmary affords, this would be out of the question, but today he's too drained to care.]
Or both?
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First time dying was easy on me, more or less. The breach, though...
[He shakes his head.]
Wasn't right for a long while after that.
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[He promises, with a ragged little sigh.]
Eggsy is going to be fucked though, poor thing. I should say something reassuring.
[But he's just going to need to lie here curled up with him a few minutes more.]
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What happened with Eggsy?
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It was him. Or, a stranger with his face, killing a stranger with my face. He'll remember it from the inside, though, won't he?
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Just the same as before, yeah.
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[Observes Ricki, softly, lifting his own hand, spreading it, and looking at how very intact it is.]
Let's not talk about it- but it went slow.
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But it goes without saying that torture does not sit well with Omar Little, and especially not when it comes to the man he loves.
He'll feel bad for Eggsy in a minute, truly. Right now, he forces it:]
Boy best have a deal coming his way.
[He knows the last breach had been bad for him, too, after all.]
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[He says, with a long, tired sigh.]
Come on. Reason through it, don't feel it. That's the only thing there is to do, at a time like this. Anything else just makes it worse.
[Though that dispassion might pay for itself later, when this all good and sinks in for him down the road. But right now, in semi-public, Ricki is quiet and composed about the whole thing.]
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[He lets out a soft, frustrated sound. He'd been trying to push himself to be compassionate for Eggsy instead of wanting to shoot him in the throat. Apparently, it hadn't worked that well, at least not outwardly.]
I mean, your boy had it rough these past couple times. Best have something worth staying for, to be sticking around through all this shit.
[He really, truly cannot think of a better word right now.]
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[Says Ricki, surprised into rolling over to face him fully, to setting an arm around his waist and tangling their feet, close to nose to nose on the little cot.]
Thanks- yes. He really does.
[And for that, he steals a quick kiss, since no one is too near by.]
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'ayo, you thinking you wanna come home, maybe?
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Normally I'd say 'fuck 'em' and run, but let's face it, I'm not really in any shape to make a daring escape.
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Ain't like they can afford to be curbing my, you know, pro-social behaviors -- not if they concerned 'bout my rehabilitation.
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[He suggests, as he works his way gingerly to his feet. It's true; no one in their right minds would let him walk back to his cabin alone like this.]
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[He slips an arm under his shoulders, supporting him on his feet.]
I love you, but I don't know 'bout playing Kevin Costner all the way down eight floors.
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[But he leans into him, and manages to get walking, anyways.]