The bumps in the road. He wished he'd thought of it earlier. With autumn rains came the inevitable potholes, and now they were stuck in this suffocating box, and it felt like someone was shaking it. At least on a ship, the rocking was predictable. In the carriage, with the only view being out the side through the windows, one never knew when one would be thrown around. It was bad enough on him with his nausea. For Theo, it must have been hell.
Something pressed against his knee. He glanced down, hoping to all that was holy that he hadn't just accidentally bumped the Baroness, but no. It was just Theo. Whether or not he knew what he was doing, the man kept his leg there, and Fletcher made no effort to move away. Instead, he slid his hands into his lap where the man could see them, made a show of picking at his nails, then slowly signed a message. "Just keep breathing. We're almost there."
Finally, they arrived, but before he could help Theo out of the carriage, the man tumbled forth and only narrowly caught himself. Fletch hopped out next to him just as Theo took the words right out of his mouth. As Tiff looked to him for confirmation, Fletcher's eye widened and he nodded vehemently. Yes, this was real. Yes, this was serious. He sidled up next to the horses under the pretense of speaking with the driver and his fellow guard about something else. "Quickly," he added under his breath. "And quietly, please. It's bad." Then he turned and followed Theo into the shop.
He hated these places — stuffy with perfume, hung thick with frilly shit and lace and all manner of things that were best left hidden beneath clothes on women's undergarments. He was certain Theo would hate it, too, if he weren't preoccupied with the blinding pain of a broken bone. Fletch couldn't help but pace and fidget and tap his foot as his anxiety took a firm hold of him. He'd really fucked up. He should never have broken like that on the training grounds. It was unconscionable to direct any of this towards Theo, but he'd turned so much acid and poison and bile on the man that he'd pushed him over the edge.
He stopped pacing for as long as he could stand. Long enough to sign another message. "Tiff knows it's bad. He'll be back soon. Just hold on."