Day Six-Twenty-One: Grunt Work

So. 

That didn't work.

I'd hoped bringing Logan and his father together would create a dialogue between the two. A chance for kid and papa to open up, air their grievances, and hopefully reconcile. And, in fairness, Logan did some airing... though hearing that he wanted me as a father over Jeffrey is not what I'd had in mind. 

Didn't help that Jeffrey clammed up almost completely, and spent the next half hour looking as though he wanted to pitch himself into the tide of walruses cascading past our rock. Improving though he is, that dude doesn't know how to talk to his son.

"Give them time to solve their woes," Edmund offered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "A third party just increases foes."

"I guess." I tugged hard on a lever. "I feel bad for the dude, you know? He's so friggin' nice now. Always helping out, actin' all contrite... he did a lot in the past, but you gotta leave the past in the past. That's what I always say."

Ed didn't comment, but I watched his eyes roll as he picked grime out of a gear.

"What? What'd I say? I saw that, spoony bard."

Edmund feigned shock. "Say not thou spoony! 'tis an insult most grave. / I thought you not a man of such wild deprave."

"Well, don't you insult me. I don't dwell on the past at all." I paused to pick some oil out of my nose. How it got there I've no idea. "Do I?"

"Those who write in diaries / Should not make such inquiries."

"Thanks for not being vague, Ed."

"Can it!" This from my lovely wife. She approached from behind, a giant wrench bouncing against the palm of her hand. "We're behind schedule. Get back to work. I want this bucket moving before we get buried again. That fuckin' snow screwed up the wheels. We're already crawlin' at a third our normal speed, rhino or no rhino."

"Yes, dear." It was my turn to roll some eyes. "Can I have a break soon? I've been in Engineering for hours."

"No!"

I sighed. It was true. Ed and I were torn from our regular duties to work in Engineering for the entire morning. The Dauphine's moving at a rather sluggish pace, no faster than a toad hitched to an overloaded wagon, and Libby's determined to bring her beloved transport back on track. Hence all the whip cracking. 

I waited for Libby to wander away before I continued the conversation in whispers. "I dunno, Ed. I probably should let 'em do their own thing, but I feel kinda responsible. When a man says he wants to be another man's son, and you're that man who is the man who would be the father, you gotta be a man about it, y'know?"

"If that be your grasp of the vernacular, / The notes in your work must read so spectacular."

"I can't talk to you about anything."

We toiled away for the remainder of our shift in silence, only breaking through the din of Engineering with the occasional curse word when we dropped a tool or got our hand caught in the wheel gears. I came no closer to solving my problem.

That's all for today. I'm tired as shit, but I keep getting calls about crew members feeling ill. Bora served some overcooked eel fondue for breakfast this morning, and I suspect it's the culprit. Gotta cater to the wounded and the weary. Maybe I can mull over this whole Logan / Jeffrey / me problem while I'm running around the Dauphine.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Wanderer