[It matches the one on Nami. Koby's already in a state, though he oddly isn't in tears for once in his life. He looks for a long, long moment, then slowly brings his eyes up to meet Tim's, staring at him, thinking about the last thing he'd said -- whatever happens, I love you.
Thinking about how that could've been the last thing he'd ever said to Tim.
He steps closer, reaches up carefully, gently, cradles Tim's face between his callused hands.]
[ He'll be jumpy, sensitive to unexpected touch for a while. Koby might not see it, because Koby is safe, and Tim knows that, so when he's touched he doesn't flinch, he leans right into it and reaches for more, pulling him into a hug, as tight as he can muster with the exhaustion. ]
[Is he? Koby doesn't know anything anymore -- somewhere in the middle of the night, the entire world turned upside down again. The first round it was Erik, sweet and compelling and fun, somehow embodying the illusion that this place could be safe, could be a home.
This time it was Tim and Nami. This time it was so, so much closer to home, and while they both escaped by a hair, the act of protecting them had put a target on Hawk and Shanks. There's no way to win.
He clings to Tim so tightly it makes his shoulders ache, stands up on his tiptoes so he can hold onto him better.] Scared. Exhausted. She's with the crew, she's safe. People will know for sure it wasn't her, or you.
No, it seems like that's the best possible option, at this point. The safest, definitely.
[Which isn't something he'd ever thought he'd say about being in prison, but. Nothing about the past couple weeks is normal, is it.
Koby leans back, wanting to insist that Tim's wrong, that Hawk is safe and sound, that everything's going to be fine. But he can't. He can't summon up the words. He has the same gut-clenching terror about Shanks.]
They might not. [It sounds hollow, even to his own ears -- they'd come for Paul, for saving Alina.] If someone else seems like a bigger threat, they might not.
No. I'm not hiding down there while someone who tried to kill me waits for a chance to do it again. I want to fight.
[ Not...literally, if he can avoid it, but with his head, with his friends, with their minds and their votes together. They can beat this. He has to believe they can beat this. ]
They will. Unless we get three, now, then they'll be few enough to go for bigger targets.
[ Alina, Pierce, Matt. He hates the way he's thinking, like they're just chess pieces, or shields he can throw in front of Hawk. Tim doesn't know if he's strong or brave enough to keep all his promises, and that feels just as bad as the aching bruise that collars his neck. ]
[Despite everything, that makes Koby smile a little, stepping back and reaching again, instinctively, to push up his glasses, bumping himself gently in the nose.] No, you're right. Everyone I care about in the world is in this stupid house, I'm not going to run away and hide while they're threatened.
[Even though he wants to. He really, really wants to.]
You should sit down. [Fussy mode, reaching out to gently nudge Tim back towards the inside of the room, reverting to old habits. Like it's still summer. Like they're still sharing a room and bickering over sink space.]
[ Tim's exhausted and every breath is like fire in his throat, so he's not hard to convince. He complies, ruffling Koby's hair as he pulls away to perch himself on the edge of the bed. ]
Could you get the kettle? Tea with honey helps. You can bring some back for Nami.
[The gesture is comforting, and Koby has to actively bite back the urge to seek out more, more affection, more contact, to replace the void left by his newfound powers evaporating. He nods, already finding the kettle, the hot plate, the tea. He can do this part, shaky hands and bitten-bloody fingernails and all.
He can do this.] She likes tea, I think. Well, sometimes. She liked it in the village.
[ He watches Koby for a moment more, before settling back against the headboard with a wince. The red welt around his throat is the most obvious, but there's bumps and scrapes all over, a cut on his chest, road rash on his back, all resulting from getting dragged through the grounds. He's not comfortable, and probably won't be for some time. ]
Then you don't need to talk. [Gently, assembling the tea from muscle memory alone, honey and bag and hot water.] I'll stay as long as you'd like and talk for both of us.
[Koby startles a little at Shanks's name, in spite of himself, breath catching a bit. He turns and looks at Tim for a long moment, thoughtfully, ears red, before turning back to making the tea.]
The ones who can bring people back? Like Alina? I can ask him. He usually has his own plans, but he's...we're...he'll listen to me, I think. He'll at least consider it.
Alina and Pierce. If Nami keeps her head down this time, she shouldn't need him.
[ Hopefully. The doctors need to protect those that have the most helpful roles, so that the most people can survive. Easier said than done, with any chance of Hawk choosing anyone other than Tim died the second that belt wrapped around his neck. ]
I'll ask. That makes the most logical sense -- we don't want to lose the witches or doctors or seers. If we vote smartly this round, they're down to half their numbers and we can figure things out.
[Koby scowls a little, points a spoon at Tim menacingly before dipping it into the honey.] Shhhhhhush, you. You're gravely injured, don't waste your energy teasing me.
[The blush spreads down the back of Koby’s neck, but -- he can't make the bruises on Tim's neck go away. He can't heal what's been irrevocably broken in this place.
So he crosses the room, tea in hand, settling on the edge of Tim's bed.] Yes, I like him a lot. And he likes me, I think? I think. I mean, he cares, I know that. He promised to keep me safe, no matter what, so.
[Koby makes a face at the term, because -- well, it's accurate, but it sounds very impersonal.]
I mean -- technically? You could call it that? It's -- more than that, though. Some of it's the way things were in the village and some of it is what he's been teaching me here, and it's all sort of become this...
[Have a waved hand, half-fond, half-helpless.] I don't know how to describe it, I guess. I care about him, a lot. [A beat, then, repeated, softer:] A lot.
[ Impersonal, sure. But leaves room for Koby to fill in the blanks. ]
That's sweet. Good.
[ If it were anyone else, of course, he'd have a thousand follow up questions about Quentin and polyamory and everyone's feelings about it all, but he's learned enough about these sailors not to. They behave as if it's casual, but feel deeply regardless. Sometimes Tim even admires it. ]
He's only thirty...something... [Late thirties. Koby doesn't actually know. Still, it's pushing twenty years. Wait til he tells Tim about his biggest crush at home, on Luffy's grandfather.] Anyway, he doesn't act old.
He's annoying, though, sometimes. [Taking his tea back and sitting next to Tim on the bed.] He drives me crazy, same as Quentin. Maybe that's my type?
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Thinking about how that could've been the last thing he'd ever said to Tim.
He steps closer, reaches up carefully, gently, cradles Tim's face between his callused hands.]
Hi.
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How's Nami?
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This time it was Tim and Nami. This time it was so, so much closer to home, and while they both escaped by a hair, the act of protecting them had put a target on Hawk and Shanks. There's no way to win.
He clings to Tim so tightly it makes his shoulders ache, stands up on his tiptoes so he can hold onto him better.] Scared. Exhausted. She's with the crew, she's safe. People will know for sure it wasn't her, or you.
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[ Because he didn't do it, and he does his best not to rustle feathers. His name had only come up once, with Armand's pettiness. ]
They'll come for Hawk next, for saving me.
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[Which isn't something he'd ever thought he'd say about being in prison, but. Nothing about the past couple weeks is normal, is it.
Koby leans back, wanting to insist that Tim's wrong, that Hawk is safe and sound, that everything's going to be fine. But he can't. He can't summon up the words. He has the same gut-clenching terror about Shanks.]
They might not. [It sounds hollow, even to his own ears -- they'd come for Paul, for saving Alina.] If someone else seems like a bigger threat, they might not.
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[ Not...literally, if he can avoid it, but with his head, with his friends, with their minds and their votes together. They can beat this. He has to believe they can beat this. ]
They will. Unless we get three, now, then they'll be few enough to go for bigger targets.
[ Alina, Pierce, Matt. He hates the way he's thinking, like they're just chess pieces, or shields he can throw in front of Hawk. Tim doesn't know if he's strong or brave enough to keep all his promises, and that feels just as bad as the aching bruise that collars his neck. ]
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[Even though he wants to. He really, really wants to.]
You should sit down. [Fussy mode, reaching out to gently nudge Tim back towards the inside of the room, reverting to old habits. Like it's still summer. Like they're still sharing a room and bickering over sink space.]
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Could you get the kettle? Tea with honey helps. You can bring some back for Nami.
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He can do this.] She likes tea, I think. Well, sometimes. She liked it in the village.
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Even if she doesn't. It hurts to talk.
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[ The clock keeps ticking whether he wants it to or not. ]
Shanks, your friend. Can you convince him to save one of the witches next round?
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The ones who can bring people back? Like Alina? I can ask him. He usually has his own plans, but he's...we're...he'll listen to me, I think. He'll at least consider it.
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[ Hopefully. The doctors need to protect those that have the most helpful roles, so that the most people can survive. Easier said than done, with any chance of Hawk choosing anyone other than Tim died the second that belt wrapped around his neck. ]
You're blushing. You like him?
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[Koby scowls a little, points a spoon at Tim menacingly before dipping it into the honey.] Shhhhhhush, you. You're gravely injured, don't waste your energy teasing me.
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Come on. Tell me something good that isn't "are you okay, you should lay down, tell me everything you remember for the fifteenth time."
[ Take my mind off the feeling of the next breath being my last. ]
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So he crosses the room, tea in hand, settling on the edge of Tim's bed.] Yes, I like him a lot. And he likes me, I think? I think. I mean, he cares, I know that. He promised to keep me safe, no matter what, so.
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Are you two...?
[ Trailing off, with his eyebrows raised. You know what he's asking, Koby. ]
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Are we what? You'll have to be more specific.
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You know what I mean. Hooking up.
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I mean -- technically? You could call it that? It's -- more than that, though. Some of it's the way things were in the village and some of it is what he's been teaching me here, and it's all sort of become this...
[Have a waved hand, half-fond, half-helpless.] I don't know how to describe it, I guess. I care about him, a lot. [A beat, then, repeated, softer:] A lot.
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That's sweet. Good.
[ If it were anyone else, of course, he'd have a thousand follow up questions about Quentin and polyamory and everyone's feelings about it all, but he's learned enough about these sailors not to. They behave as if it's casual, but feel deeply regardless. Sometimes Tim even admires it. ]
You're into older men.
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But...you're not wrong. I guess I feel...safer? Protected. Less like the floor's gonna drop out from under me.
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[ Conspiratorial, rather than judgmental. Hawk has a decade on him, which Koby's well aware of, so he knows. He gets it. ]
Safety and experience. I like that too.
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He's annoying, though, sometimes. [Taking his tea back and sitting next to Tim on the bed.] He drives me crazy, same as Quentin. Maybe that's my type?
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