For men like them, it's silly to get sentimental over weapons. In the heat of a firefight, blades and guns and bullets don't have meaning except for the times that they do. There's nothing special about the knife except that it's Ed's, that he knew Oswald pocketed it, that he told him to keep hold of it, that he's now suggesting that he only return it if he's feeling secure enough to do so. And there is no better safety blanket in the world than a knife, as far as Oswald is concerned.
With a small shake of his head, Oswald pulls the blade back for now. He has the one in his cane if he needs it, but making a fuss over who should take one little switch blade right now seems to make about as much sense as arguing over who will settle the cheque at dinner--it'll come to each of them in time.
Moving himself to the gate between the two cities, Oswald slips his hand, along with the blade, back into his pocket and waits with a bit of lingering nervous energy, something familiar and entirely different to what he once knew from being around Ed.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-06-30 04:22 pm (UTC)With a small shake of his head, Oswald pulls the blade back for now. He has the one in his cane if he needs it, but making a fuss over who should take one little switch blade right now seems to make about as much sense as arguing over who will settle the cheque at dinner--it'll come to each of them in time.
Moving himself to the gate between the two cities, Oswald slips his hand, along with the blade, back into his pocket and waits with a bit of lingering nervous energy, something familiar and entirely different to what he once knew from being around Ed.