[In his cell, Murphy has to laugh, soft and huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. He knows it isn't true, but sometimes it's like Bellamy is unbreakable, unstoppable resolve and determination to make whatever he believes be the truth. Back at the dropship, it's what had made all the kids follow him. Combined with Clarke, it's what had kept most of them alive. But in the moment, in the context of it being him - scepticism, evasion - that Bellamy's trying to bend to his certainty, Murphy can't help but wish he'd just let up for a moment.]
(Okay, you can stop. I get it already.)
[Tinged irreverent, the mental impression of holding his hands up, calling uncle. He tips back on the cot, eyes closed, an unknowing mirror.]
(I get it.)
[Softer. Truer. Somehow, even through all the crap they'd done to each other, there'd always been a measure of understanding, unspoken. It's not hard once he's doing it, surrendering the last pieces of distance he'd been keeping, letting that understanding chime through between them. The red belt, the rope they'd both almost died by, one way or the other. Bellamy isn't going to let go. Murphy isn't, either.]
no subject
( Okay, you can stop. I get it already. )
[Tinged irreverent, the mental impression of holding his hands up, calling uncle. He tips back on the cot, eyes closed, an unknowing mirror.]
( I get it. )
[Softer. Truer. Somehow, even through all the crap they'd done to each other, there'd always been a measure of understanding, unspoken. It's not hard once he's doing it, surrendering the last pieces of distance he'd been keeping, letting that understanding chime through between them. The red belt, the rope they'd both almost died by, one way or the other. Bellamy isn't going to let go. Murphy isn't, either.]