blue-mood-blue:

“Barry.”

Barry poked at the fire. It was lower than he wanted it to be – it would probably last them through the night with the wood they still had, but they were pushing their resources by staying in one place.

“Barry.”

Maybe he could call for help. They still had his flares, even if most of the other supplies were long gone. Green for “I’m fine, keep going” and red for “I need help.” Davenport insisted, on the chance the group was separated and, well, Barry really shouldn’t be angry about that because it’s not as if their captain was responsible for this happening just by knowing that it might but. But it felt better to be angry, when he didn’t know if the flare would reach them. When he didn’t know if there was any point in trying unless Merle could see it from the ship.

“Barry.” This time there was a soft tug on the side of his shirt, and Barry closed his eyes for a second. He took a deep and unsteady breath because he couldn’t ignore that gesture.

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