You, Insatiable You

“Wolfe,”

Wolfe didn’t look behind him as he stirred his tea, “Yes, Q?”

Wolfe had figured out a somewhat strange way to be able to drink tea in the ghost town, which was mostly devoid of power — aside from odd places here and there. That was to bring a travel mug with boiling hot water, and then prepare it at the ghost town.

Why didn’t he just prepare it at home and bring it like that? Well, that wasted time he could spend here, that’s why.

Q finally spoke up after being quiet, “Can we talk?”

“We are talking,” Wolfe joked, although his affect was flat.

“I’m struggling,” Q whispered.

Wolfe still picked it up, with his hearing which had, very mysteriously, continued to get better. He turned around quickly, so quickly it scared Q, “What’s wrong?”

Without thinking he had turned on the serious voice, seemingly also scaring Q. He softened his face as much as he could consciously, leaning against the dilapidated kitchen side to try and seem calm.

“How do I become like you?” Q asked so fast he could hardly catch any of the words.

Wolfe quirked a brow, “In what sense?”

Q looked awkward, “You’re so calm and… you don’t get emotional like… ever… and I want to be like that!”

Wolfe went quiet, furrowing both brows now as he thought of how to respond, “Q, why do you think I never get emotional?”

“Because you don’t feel emotional?”

“It’s because when I do get emotional, I can’t control it very well,” Wolfe explained, taking a quick sip of his drink, “I keep myself calm for the people around me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel.”

“But… I’ve never seen you cry, or get really angry!”

“You’ve seen me laugh, haven’t you?” Wolfe smiled slightly, “That’s still showing emotion.”

Q didn’t know what to say.

Wolfe put down his mug and knelt down, beckoning Q to come closer as he took off one of his gloves. He wore them all the time in the ghost town, for safety’s sake. He put his palm out to Q.

“You remember this?”

Q looked at it, “It’s the cut you got from a rose, right?”

Wolfe nodded, “I got it somewhat recently, and I will be honest with you Q — it hurt so bad, I started crying.”

“It hurt that bad?” Q sounded somewhat shocked.

“Somewhat,” Wolfe shrugged, standing back up and slipping on his glove, “I also got kicked out of my best friend’s wedding for being emotional. The day I found the mask.”

Q paused slightly, “It makes you angry, right? The mask.”

Wolfe took a sip of his drink, “Yes.”

“How do you… stop being angry like it makes you? I don’t like being angry.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

Wolfe took another drink, and then put the mug back down, “I’m not strong enough to stop being angry forever.”

“But you’re never angry with us…”

“It’s because I had to change how I look at my emotions,” Wolfe started walking slightly, looking out of the somewhat broken back door, “For my own sake.”

“How did you? Change it, that is,” Q also looked out the back door.

For a second, Wolfe and Q watched Mutt and Clove play with each other in the backyard, a game that looked like tag with much more friendly sparring.

“When I was younger, I thought of my emotions like a feral animal,” Wolfe finally started, “Something I had to cage and control, something that I needed to tame.”

Q looked up, listening intently. Wolfe smiled as best he could down at them, trying to be reassuring. With a breath in and out, he continued.

“But that made it worse, trying to cage it all up because it was ‘ugly’ or ‘bad,’ it half killed me,” Wolfe looked back at Mutt and Clove, “Then I realised they’re not an animal — emotions are like the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Q asked, “But the ocean is… nice.”

“The ocean takes homes, it takes lives, sometimes the waves take whole villages and towns,” Wolfe mused, “And you cannot control nor stop the ocean, can you?”

“No?”

“So if you’re in the middle of the ocean, and the waves feel like they’re taking you under, sometimes you just have to float, and wait for help,” Wolfe smiled slightly, “Because the ocean won’t bend to your will.”

Q didn’t say anything. Wolfe took that as a cue to say more.

“You have to let the waves wash over you,” Wolfe shut his eyes slightly, “Think of the ocean as a friend instead of an adversary.”

“So, I don’t… stop being angry? I let it just… wash over me?”

“Exactly,” Wolfe sighed, “Because the ocean isn’t evil, or bad, or ugly — it is simply a force of nature.”

The two shared another silence, in which Wolfe walked back to his tea to drink it a bit more. After a few seconds, he felt a surprise hug to his back, which almost made him drop his drink.

“Thank you, dad.”

Wolfe breathed out, with a big smile, “Anytime, kid.”