[ What's there to say about that, about any of this? Neither of them like it. Gabe's hard-pressed to say which of them has the worst deal, in truth. The thought of it makes him sick whenever he lets himself consider it for longer than a moment, so he tries not to. But that's Hell's doing, he supposes. None of this was ever going to be gentle.
He sits back down on the bed. Lays his hands flat on his knees. And then the next order.
Gabe tips his head back. He can hear Daryl's voice, the way the bed shifts under his weight, but there are limitations to that. A whole lot of guesswork. He works his jaw. Then he turns and aims a blow for Daryl's chest. Center mass. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel if he manages to land it. ]
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He sits back down on the bed. Lays his hands flat on his knees. And then the next order.
Gabe tips his head back. He can hear Daryl's voice, the way the bed shifts under his weight, but there are limitations to that. A whole lot of guesswork. He works his jaw. Then he turns and aims a blow for Daryl's chest. Center mass. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel if he manages to land it. ]