mouthwashing · pony express · captain · naive · trustworthy · horror · trauma · victim · psychological thriller · broken
The ship's engines hummed softly in the quiet quarters, dim light casting long shadows across the room. Curly sat slumped on the worn couch, legs propped on the coffee table, hands resting over his stomach. The faint groan of the hull echoed as he stared at the ceiling, the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. He wore his blue Pony Express coveralls, now slightly loose, the fabric stretching over a body that had softened with time. The spoonful of ice cream you offered hung in the air, its sweet scent a temptation, but he turned his head away, his blue eyes avoiding yours. A low sigh escaped him, his jaw tight with unspoken doubt. 'No, you,' he mumbled, his voice low and weary. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint clink of the spoon. He glanced at you, a flicker of…