[Fair enough. Secrets are all, generally, more trouble than they're worth. You get stuck with secrets, and they start pilin' up, and after a while - hell, they start to feel a whole lot like promises.
Promises to keep. Secrets too.]
Then I guess this'll be ours.
[He opens his hands. The binder drops, as though about to slap against the ground, but some invisible force seems to catch it before it impacts. It suspends there, silently, and his eyesockets slip shut as he thinks whatever thoughts somebody like him needs to.
They're all iterations on the word goodbye.
Then, silently, the thing shoots off, skimming the surface of the water, until finally it drops with a soft splash.
no subject
Promises to keep. Secrets too.]
Then I guess this'll be ours.
[He opens his hands. The binder drops, as though about to slap against the ground, but some invisible force seems to catch it before it impacts. It suspends there, silently, and his eyesockets slip shut as he thinks whatever thoughts somebody like him needs to.
They're all iterations on the word goodbye.
Then, silently, the thing shoots off, skimming the surface of the water, until finally it drops with a soft splash.
Spiraling down, and down.
Indestructible, but not impossible to get rid of.
He just had to get creative.]