﹙ if it was physically possible, benn beckman would dig his own grave. in the middle of the sea, six—feet deep, or digging salt into a wound he didn’t know a thing about. ﹚
gonna kick me out of bed tonight ?
﹝ glad of the distance between, though he knows it’ll do little to keep beck from noticing——he always notices ( almost annoyingly so )——shanks sucks the air through his teeth and casts his gaze elsewhere. anywhere but 𝘩𝘪𝘮 and that smug, knowing face. ﹞
﹙ shanks. shanks is the wife. beck looks oddly pleased with himself. the silent treatment thing — of course, is making him grin. which probably puts him looking even more … suspicious. ﹚
﹝ wondering who “wife” is. definitely not jealous. why would he be? is shanks “wife?” had he given beck the boot in his drunken slumber? he can’t risk asking——won’t risk. so he stares��� not so discreetly. ﹞
i wake up to my beautiful wife who kicked me out of the bunk at three am because my smoking has caught up to me and i snore louder then canon fire. doesn’t want to talk to me but i think its so hot when i get silent treatment.