peace_inthe_violence

He laughed warmly at the question, even as he accepted the water, taking a long drink himself before answering, "Working your way up the food chain, smart thinking."

A nod followed, handing the water back, "But I can get you back up to being ready to take Nicky on for sure."

"I'm the brains of the operation," he said with a little smirk. Booker did have a fairly tactical mind but this was simple logic. Start with a sword fighter willing to take mercy on him and work his way up the chain of ruthlessness.

He bows his head forward to pour some water across the back of his neck and then rub it across his shoulder. He immediately felt cooler and breathed a little easier. "...thank you. For more than the training. I know I haven't been myself for... a long time."

And his friend stuck with him. Still cared about him. Booker was grateful. Touched. There was a lot.

"More the brains than some of us, yes." He agreed, easy and amused. Though he sobered a little once more at the rest, nodding slowly, "You don't always make yourself an easy man to love. But we do. I do."

It wasn't the same nigh-depthless well that he had for Nicky, but it was no less rue and no less fierce.

He edged forward, reaching out to tug lightly at the spill of overgrown bangs across Booker's brow, "I know it's often easier to believe your own mind even when it lies than it is to believe what the rest of us are telling you, but I want you to hold onto this truth since I know you will her it now. You are one of us, for better or for worse, we are here for you as we hope that you are for us. You are, and will always be, welcome where we are."

Another little tug, both brows lifting, "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

Right now, those words settled in his mind and heart. It filled him with warmth and a steadiness. It wouldn't last. Booker knew that. He could be dragged down into the darkness pretty easily.

And then he'd doubt the words. He'd wonder and second guess. This time had let him think and realize just how treacherous his mind was. How bad it was for his heart.

"But... if it gets bad, I'll need you all to see it. I won't make it easy." He looked over at Joe with a sad little smile. "But I love you all deeply. That never changes."

"We all know what to watch for now." He replied, just ruffling his hand through Booker's hair, and while keeping an eye on him without hovering would be a balance they'd have to find both individually and as a group, Joe had faith that they could do so.

His tone had gone to mostly-gentle teasing once more as he asked: "So are you done self-flagellating out here? Can we go inside and see if we can't do something about that rat's nest on your head?"

Booker rolled his eyes. "I'm staying in shape."

This was exercise and work, not hurting himself. That was done with drinking and isolation. He shoved Joe's shoulder as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, let's try and tame this mess." He ran his fingers through his hair. It was sweaty and dirty and a mess. It did need some help.

He laughed at the shove, just nodding, "No, no you're right, if that's what you were doing you'd have taken a run at Andy first."

Maybe, he doubted even Booker in a mood was that kind of stupid, "Go on and take a shower, I'll see if I can find the shears, otherwise we're doing this with a straight razor and the kitchen scissors."

"That's very true." Joe knew him too well Booker thought but he didn't need to say that.

He waved instead of answering and went straight for the shower. He made sure it was nice and hot and spent extra long scrubbing at his hair. It really was too long and too shaggy.

Booker just kept seeing little signs of how he stopped taking care of himself.

After the shower he searched out Joe to see if he had found any clippers or a razor. Whatever his friend used it would be better than the edge of a sword.

Joe had taken a quick shower himself before he'd started his search, nothing intense, just something to get the sweat and remaining blood off.

He had, in fact, found the shears, although he'd brought out the straight razor as well for the edges. He'd also taken the time to spread a towel between the back of a chair and the table to act as a catchall, one that would later be shaken out at the edge of the garden so the birds had some variety in nesting materials.

He cocked his head towards the chair when Booker arrived, "Have a seat, let's see what we can do."

Booker sat in the chair and tilted his head back, eyeing Joe and eyeing the tools. "Looks like you found everything you needed."

Then he sat forward. He briefly combed his hair with his fingers then settled his hands in his lap. Joe knew what he was doing.

"You know how I like it," he teased with a little smirk. "Go ahead."

Maybe it wasn't smart to taunt the man who was about to cut his hair but Booker couldn't help himself. Half his relationship with Joe was teasing each other.

Joe laughed warmly at the tease, nodding at the first statement, because he'd definitely found everything.

His brow creased a little at the statement that followed, "Yeah I do. Same as it is now, only shorter." His tone was level, even puzzled, but there was amusement behind his eyes, "You're just lucky I actually know what I'm doing."

And he did, going for the 'shorter' part first, followed by making sure it was more or less the right shape before trimming down to the proper short length and then cleaning up the edges once that was done.

"I'd just shave it off if you weren't around to handle it for me. Look like I did in Vietnam." Booker had adopted the military 'jar head' look then. Those steamy jungles hadn't been comfortable with long hair and it helped him blend in when they made their way through military units.

No one looked twice at a brawny guy with a shaved head and a stolen Marine uniform.

He watched the strands fall to the floor with a strange sense of... relief. Booker could see the proof he was looking after himself now. That was good. That was a step away from the darkness that threatened to drown him.

He snorted at that response, shaking his head, "That wasn't a good look for any of us." A pause, considering, head tilting a little as he made sure his lines were even as he added: "Andy maybe, but certainly not the rest of us."

Granted, being a good look was beside the point, it was a look that had done what it was supposed to in that they hadn't ever been questioned about their presence, and that was good enough for him.

He ruffled a hand through Booker's hair, shaking loose some of the shorn ends and making sure he hadn't taken anything down too short, nodding as he stepped back, "Think that's it."

Booker caught Joe's hand as he pulled away from his hair and drew it back in. He pressed a kiss to the meaty part of his palm. When was the last time he showed Joe this kind of easy affection? He couldn't quite remember which meant it had probably been awhile.

"Perfect, like always." He released his hand and stood up. "Knew I could trust you."

Hopefully, Joe caught the undercurrent of meaning that was more than a haircut. Booker was coming back to himself, coming back to his family and their love for him. He would trust that going forward.

Or God help him, he'd just lose his fucking mind the whole way.

He just smiled at the kiss, some small fraction of lingering tension unwinding from the base of his spine at the apparently reflexive affection.

He nodded at the statement, letting that hand slide around to cradle the side of Booker's neck, thumb running along the line of his jaw, "Of course you can, albi, any time." There were layers to the answer the same way there were to the initial statement. Even if they didn't always agree -and they didn't- they could still trust each other.

Malta

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