Inbox

[skeletonkeay]

INBOX OF GERARD KEAY

Point of contact for Pumpkin Hollow. Gerry can be reached by phone, mail, or a visit to his shop during business hours. Pinhole Printing and Binding is open from 11am to 6pm every day except Tuesday, because fuck Tuesday, or unless Gerry deigns otherwise.

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Comments

[cyansoldier]

"I haven't held a book in—" A strangled laugh. "Forever. We used data pads back home, mostly. Books were one of those things they left behind. No one wanted to spend the money to have them published, not when they could be funding more... lucrative commercial ventures."

Like the military; unbelievable amassments of wealth funneled into weapons and technology, into soldiers and human experiments, the products of which could decimate the enemy like never before. Like her. Who has time for books when war wages right outside your window?

Her lips part into a noiseless 'ahh'. It makes sense, after all. Intrinsic fears; the parents we're born with who steer us away from harm long before words enter the equation. It begs the question;

"Can't people overcome them? We all start off afraid of loud noises, and that's an instinct too, isn't it? How many of us actually maintain that fear later in life? Everyone learns how to get over things." Get over; were it only that easy.

Carolina pauses, curiosity pushing at the edges of her conscious mind begging to be acknowledged. She indulges it after a minute of deliberation. Leans forward a little.

"You ever meet someone with no fear?"

[skeletonkeay]

"Sure, people can get over them sometimes. Fear marks, like scars, can fade. Takes effort and time to heal them, and they still linger faintly, but they can get better, yeah," Gerry explains. He's a little pointed about the time and effort bit. Yeah, that means the scary work of confronting those fears instead of swallowing them.

She leans forward, conspiratorial, and asks the question that Gerry loves and hates answering. A ghost of a smile curls his lips. The answer is plain and simple.

"No."

What else is there to say?

[cyansoldier]

Time and effort better allotted elsewhere. What use is training a muscle she can't see? Half the pleasure of a hard day's work in the field comes after, in micro-torn muscles and skin tacky with sweat. In the ache down her legs and feet, and in the bruises she's sustained from her efforts. In black eyes and busted lips. In knuckles turned purple. The body pushed to its limit. A win.

If she could drive her fist into the ugly mirages that surround her, maybe she'd be more willing.

Maybe.

For now, Carolina pitches her back against the seat, crossed arms, disappointed but not surprised by the answer he gives her. The single word is proceeded by a long, chary silence.

She stands.

"I'll make sure to come find you when I'm ready for my nature retreat. We can therapize each other."

Aaaand that's a wrap!

[skeletonkeay]

Gerry snorts. "If that's what you wanna take from that, be my guest. You're the one who wanted to know, and I answered."

With a shrug, he hops off the counter, keen to get back to work with the departure of his guest.

"In any case, like it or not, you're part of the community now. So if you need intel, that's me. Let me know if you need anything."

And with that, he plonks down unceremoniously into his workshop chair and begins stitching the spine of an unfinished book, boots kicked up on his desk. There is a certain release of pressure that comes with his eyes leaving her.