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Nate's scar burned as if the stare upon it were fresh branding, and swallowed. But didn't look away — whether out of wariness or will. Yeah, ha, kids. He chuckled, shrugging. If it was childish, he supposed felt no shame about it. Didn't stop bein' pretty just 'cause I grew up, so...

Cecil fidgeted, and Nate's words drifted off in favor of a harder look. Lips softened into a curious frown beneath shaded gaze. Waiting, and patient for it. Or trying to be. Because a racing heart and the lack of mindfulness to breathe made it hard to feel settled at all.

When they finally spoke, even the birds up treeside seemed to quiet. Just the pair of them and the babbling brook to contend with something they'd both known about for a while but now had to face.

Well, Nate supposed he could still choose not to. But he was trying to be done leaving good things to wilt for fear of failing.

He looked down at his stones. Then back to Cecil, and maybe a little of the hurt shone through, Wouldn't blame you if you did. But even so, and still, regardless, You decided? Or still turning things around...?