Saving the Soul of a Ship

[Lionheart523]

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This time Theobald gladly accepted the offer, taking the cigar with a sideways grin. After the smoke was lit, he leaned back, visibly starting to relax. It seemed so long ago, that he hadn't been able to simply enjoy a moment without mulling over some problem, being it petty or life threating.

"You know," he said after several minutes of silence, "I have to thank you, again. I was so lost in my own worries, that after hearing of your encounter with the power core and seeing its results, I feel humbled. What are the petty troubles of some diplomate’s wife, who’s only problem is, that the colour of the bed linings don’t match her nightgown? Or that there are only Libertonian and Rheinlandic waterbottle brands in the suites' fridge and not also Bretonian? I mean, who the hell are they kidding? Is it really necessary to throw a tantrum over these god damned," he cuts himself off and stops all of a sudden, just before his rage ignites. He slowly puffed the cigar, calming down by the seconds. The burst of emotion subsided as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sorry," he simply stated, "it's been a bit of a hard time the last couple of days, sinking into this project and desperately avoiding ripping up old wounds. Seems I am more tired than expected."

He took another sip of his vodka, before he went back to smoking the cigar. Its taste and slow effects managed to sooth his nerves over. Calmly he watched the curls glide upwards as he sat silently, observing his friend on the other side of the table, all the time wondering how he had managed to lose his calm.

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