Work Text:
That was his gear.
After all the time spent together – years, or blips in some computer circuit, whatever- Hobbes knew what Pinocchio owned, down to the mismatched pair of heavy woolen socks, the thread-worn underwear, the t-shirt with holes at the hem.
Pinocchio's gear, on the stalls of the open market, in Philadelphia.
Hobbes swallowed.
He was shouldered from behind, stumbled.
They were supposed to meet here. They've been separated only for two days.
And now Pinocchio's gear was on sale on the stalls.
A handful of ammo for a man's whole life.
Hobbes bought the revolver, and walked away.