“It’s fancy, city-folk coffee that costs like eight dollars,” she replies. Which is probably several thousand to him or something, Tess has no idea. “I’ll get us a table.”
"I don't know, it's just an expression," she remarks. "But I think it's a reincarnation thing, like you've done and seen so much in your life that it's enough for multiple lifetimes."
"Oh, they tried all'a that. But my actual father couldn't have made me, and
even Dutch gave up on that quick when I told him where he could stick his
ideas of bein' a father to me."
He raps his knuckles on the table. "Maybe I had different things to act out
against. I was an angry kid."
"Same, but I don't really remember what I was angry about anymore," Tess replies. He might have an old soul, but she's always felt like two: a kid and then an adult. One feels far pettier than the other. "What's the worst you ever got up to?"
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momijizukamori
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"I try not to go anywhere without it," he admits. "Cut back on the cigarettes, but can't quit the coffee."
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The corner of her mouth turns up.
"Someday," she adds, "I am going to take you to a Starbucks in the Enclosure and introduce you to the coffee I drank when I was a teenager."
Or what passed for coffee, anyway. She's sure he'll hate it, but it'll be fun.
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"I'm guessin' it'll be amusing, considering the way you're saying it," he says. He doesn't mind.
"Let me get something to eat, and we can sit down."
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"Eight dollars?"
He looks at the back of her head as she goes. What the fuck?
He's still a little dazed as he comes to sit down by her, sandwich on a plate, coffee in hand.
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"Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating a little," she replies. "Maybe closer to six dollars."
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"You're killin' me," he informs her, seriously. He also doesn't really get inflation.
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"Well, what kinda future do I got to look forward to, coffee becomes that expensive?"
Come on!
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"Couple cents, you buy it somewhere," he says. See his problem? Awful.
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"Alright, alright, geez."
He waves an old-man-hand and sips his coffee. "Point taken. Things change."
He doesn't have to like it, but.
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“Things change and you’re going to live in the woods forever to avoid it.”
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"You got that right. Build me some nice log cabin. Couple horses, maybe a barn in time. Who knows."
He nods at her plate. "What, you ain't hungry?"
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“And who’s going to mind all that while you’re out bounty hunting, huh?”
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"Barn's gonna come when I'm old and rickety."
Like he believes he'll make it to 'old and rickety'- he gives her a little grin all the same.
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"Now what does that mean, huh? An old soul."
He shakes his head. He feels old. He feels fucking ancient sometimes.
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He snorts and shakes his head, looking into his coffee.
"Yeah. But the Barge is filled with old souls, put it like that."
He isn't really exceptional, he knows that. But the last few months before coming here had felt like a lifetime of their own.
"Maybe- maybe it's the disease. The slow dyin'."
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She can't imagine Dutch was ever really a father, either.
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"Oh, they tried all'a that. But my actual father couldn't have made me, and even Dutch gave up on that quick when I told him where he could stick his ideas of bein' a father to me."
He raps his knuckles on the table. "Maybe I had different things to act out against. I was an angry kid."
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He makes a face at her. "Murder work as worst?"
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