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he’s standing there, in front of barlcay, with his hands folded in front of him. his glasses are where they should be, and his stark white eyebrow is raised just slightly.“what?” indrid asks, almost as if he didn’t just witness barclay drop the dish he was holding as soon as mama ushered him into amnesty lodge, and then the kitchen.“i—“ he starts. “you—““you’re alive,” indrid parrots the other, his tone a bit softer. he shrugs his shoulders and pulls lightly at his necklace, looking away.. . .
he doesn’t understand why he’s so. nervous.indrid looks up again, and smiles just slightly. but it’s mostly forced. “go ahead and say what you want,” he makes a vague gesture, even though he’s fully aware of what barclay is going to say.“i haven’t seen you in . . . forty years, what the fuck?” barclay sighs and runs a hand down his face with a deep sigh. he holds his arms out for a hug. and that’s something that indrid doesn’t expect but . . .. . . he gives it to him anyways.“i missed you.”indrid doubts that. but he’s not going to express his thoughts on thatinstead, he replies with, “i missed you too.”he finds that he’s not lying.