"Jury's still out on that," is the smartass remark John feels is necessary before he waltzes past the threshold. While Big Boss had casually stalked Kaz to find out where he was going to live, he hadn't resorted to a breaking and entering to get a feel for the place. It made sense that with his missing leg Kaz wouldn't venture further than the first floor and John could only hope that the three-bedroom places weren't much different. He contemplates asking Kaz which bedroom he's sleeping in, but maybe that's a little forward.
He'll figure it out.
Although the shock of seeing his friend again after all this time has worn off, now the atmosphere between them is charged with the innate sense of something off. One can chalk it up to the fact that Miller probably would prefer him burning in Hell, but it's deeper than that. At least for him. Kaz might've thought their friendship was hollow all those years ago, nothing more than convenience, but John had never allowed people so easily into his life like that. Not after being spurned by the ones he had trusted most. John could never discard Miller so easily, no matter what his former second-in-command wanted to desperately believe. The rift between them has messed up the dynamic John had become so attuned to. He doesn't know what to say anymore, how to act. Not that he ever acted especially different around the man, but now it has to be more professional. Detached.
The Boss always did tell him he had problem getting too close.
Building the fire sweeps out unnecessary thoughts about where their relationship has gone. He just needs to focus on keeping warm. John picks the bedroom with the door open and sheets actually thrown on a bed to start setting up the make-shift pit. From there its all checklists and muscle memory, setting down the kindling and tinder in a pile, building the pit. It's not a particularly big pile of wood, enough to get the room warm and cast light on the walls. When he's ready to set the fire, John lights his last cigar, using the ember for a spark in the tinder. The flame swallows the dried out wood in moments and, despite everything, the two of them have a good fire going.
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He'll figure it out.
Although the shock of seeing his friend again after all this time has worn off, now the atmosphere between them is charged with the innate sense of something off. One can chalk it up to the fact that Miller probably would prefer him burning in Hell, but it's deeper than that. At least for him. Kaz might've thought their friendship was hollow all those years ago, nothing more than convenience, but John had never allowed people so easily into his life like that. Not after being spurned by the ones he had trusted most. John could never discard Miller so easily, no matter what his former second-in-command wanted to desperately believe. The rift between them has messed up the dynamic John had become so attuned to. He doesn't know what to say anymore, how to act. Not that he ever acted especially different around the man, but now it has to be more professional. Detached.
The Boss always did tell him he had problem getting too close.
Building the fire sweeps out unnecessary thoughts about where their relationship has gone. He just needs to focus on keeping warm. John picks the bedroom with the door open and sheets actually thrown on a bed to start setting up the make-shift pit. From there its all checklists and muscle memory, setting down the kindling and tinder in a pile, building the pit. It's not a particularly big pile of wood, enough to get the room warm and cast light on the walls. When he's ready to set the fire, John lights his last cigar, using the ember for a spark in the tinder. The flame swallows the dried out wood in moments and, despite everything, the two of them have a good fire going.