( that was probably expected, too.

felix rubs his thumb along the side of his nose, hooking under his glasses to pinch his bridge. fuck. this headache, and ephemera, and everything left unsaid between them. he doesn't know how to do this anymore. it was different with ortez. both simpler and more complicated in so many ways because felix loathed and loved him in equal measure. ephemera and the others tried and failed to find their redemption, and gates left because there was no coming back for him, ever. he knew what he was. he knows what he is.

maybe he should've patched him up, dumped him on a planet somewhere far away from the fucking freelancers, rural enough he couldn't hitch the first ship out of atmosphere and drive himself straight into an early grave. maybe this was a mistake. ephemera isn't his. )

I'll leave the executive decision up to you. ( he keeps his voice light, but there's something sharp and barbed there, writhing restlessly beneath the surface. ) If you have something to say to me, say it. By all means. I wanna fucking hear it.