Stavanger Bay and every minute gets longer

Oh no, I love onions. My sinuses are just a wreck, so I'm kind of bummed that they were all I could smell of whatever someone was cooking. :C

In a way, he had been waiting for that eruption out of the pale Ostrega. That simmering notion coupled with the uneasiness Mordecai had been feeling made sense when Charon rejoined his words with a torrent of anger. They were barbed and meant to wound, which they did to a degree. But they were also met with passing venom as well; this had not been the first time Mordecai found himself accused of not caring. And once again he found himself coming to the immediate resolution that he did not want to deal with the accusations all the same. Not just this one, but any of them. He cared, however minute and distant it may have been.

Lying his ears back, he turned his gaze out towards the sea. It put Charon in a blind spot for the moment as he debated a response. Ultimately, the elder Ostrega decided that he had plenty to say but knew he would refrain. He would not argue with Charon; he barely knew him, knew it wasn't worth the wasted energy to try and come to some stable ground. Not when the boy before him was full of anger and steam and had effectively put his uncle in a corner. He wanted to contest those words, state that he cared. Instead, Mordecai understood that his presence was decidedly not wanted, and began to complete his turn away from Charon and the Bay that lingered behind him.