Now that the immediate problem’s been taken care of, shirtless but stitched-up, Jon disengages wordlessly into another part of the house. The way he often seems to vanish when she isn’t looking, a cat disappearing and then reappearing underfoot,
(not a man but a ghost)
and after some time in their bedroom and bathroom, he re-emerges looking a little less frayed around the edges. He’s washed off his hands, thrown some water in his face and hair. He tossed his ruined shirt into the laundry basket (a separate one they keep for their quote-unquote ‘work clothes’; often in need of more heavy-duty bleach or sometimes outright disposal), and then meandered back downstairs into the dim light, wearing a loose clean white undershirt and comfortable sweatpants, no longer reeking of gunpowder. Ready for bed, mostly, but:
“I have some notes on the operation, but I’ll transmit them to our handler tomorrow. Do you need anything?”
Mary’s not the tepid housewife wringing her apron and waiting for her man to come home — she’ll have her own lethal tasks, tomorrow and the day after and the day after, their work never ends — but some part of him still itches at having had an evening away from her. Not all of their jobs called for two people, but they did their work better when they were together, when he had someone to watch his back; this wound probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.
no subject
(not a man but a ghost)
and after some time in their bedroom and bathroom, he re-emerges looking a little less frayed around the edges. He’s washed off his hands, thrown some water in his face and hair. He tossed his ruined shirt into the laundry basket (a separate one they keep for their quote-unquote ‘work clothes’; often in need of more heavy-duty bleach or sometimes outright disposal), and then meandered back downstairs into the dim light, wearing a loose clean white undershirt and comfortable sweatpants, no longer reeking of gunpowder. Ready for bed, mostly, but:
“I have some notes on the operation, but I’ll transmit them to our handler tomorrow. Do you need anything?”
Mary’s not the tepid housewife wringing her apron and waiting for her man to come home — she’ll have her own lethal tasks, tomorrow and the day after and the day after, their work never ends — but some part of him still itches at having had an evening away from her. Not all of their jobs called for two people, but they did their work better when they were together, when he had someone to watch his back; this wound probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.