"Yes," Shaw answered.
Hudson had kind of expected him to deny it. Or tell him to mind his own business. Maybe ignore the question entirely like he ignored most things Hudson said. Instead he got a flat confirmation, delivered with the same emotional weight as if he had asked him what time it was.
“Mhm…” Hudson watched him. "Guess that explains a few things."
A muscle in Shaw’s neck corded. "Such as?"
"Why you don't waste energy. Why you move like everything's a test. Why you're so—," he gestured vaguely at all of Shaw, "controlled."
Shaw went quiet. Orquieter,in his case. He’d clearly been gearing up for an entirely different answer.
"Energy is a resource," he said. "It's not meant to be wasted."
Hudson grinned. "Like I said."
Shaw stared at him like he was trying to figure out if Hudson was messing with him or being serious. Hudson held the gaze without pushing, or turning it into a joke.
"Anything else you want to add?" Shaw asked, voice dry.
"Nah, I think I'm good."
"Really?"
"What were you expecting? A follow-up questionnaire? Twenty questions about what it's like growing up with a dad who could probably benchpress a tank?"
Shaw's mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer.
Instead they resumed walking. The snow had compacted under their boots into something almost glassy. The night was silent, just the creak of their gear and the occasional pop of frozen wood somewhere in the tree line.
Hudson flexed his hands, trying to keep the blood moving. His face had gone numb an hour ago—he couldn't feel his nose anymore, could barely feel his lipswhen he talked. The cold had worked its way through every layer, past the jacket, past the thermal underlayer, settling somewhere deep in his core.
Not even a full ten minutes passed before another question bubbled up. "So... did he make you do push-ups every time you talked back, or was it more of a psychological warfare situation?"
Shaw let out a croaked laugh.
Short, gone almost immediately, but this time there was no doubt. Actual audible proof that Shaw was capable of being amused.
"Jesus," he said. "So much for being done."
Hudson beamed. "Did you just laugh?"
"No."
"Oh, you definitely laughed."
“Fuck off.”
They reached the last checkpoint and stopped. Hudson took the clipboard this time, scribbling something that seemed official enough to pass inspection. "You think they're trying to break us with boredom?"
"They're trying to see who cuts corners when no one's watching."
Hudson handed the clipboard back. "Why do I feel like that's a personal insult?"
"It's an observation."
"Sure it is."
They continued on their route, Shaw still impossible to read, but at least he’d talked. Way easier to figure out your competition if they actually opened their mouth. Hudson counted that as another win.
