[ The room feels immensely smaller than when they first arrived here. This makeshift base of operations did little to provide comfort, but it was all she had known as of recently. It's good enough. This partnership was good enough. A bath was enough for her to soak her problems away, letting them float away like bubbles.
She doesn't look at him when he starts speaking with a candor she's grown use to. It wasn't refreshing as much as it was... expected. There were few things Jason hesitated with, got bashful over. There's an admittance of loneliness and she shuts her eyes to listen to him speak. They were close – more than physically – whether they were admitting it to themselves. A bullet was little for her to grow concerned with, she'd take it for him repeatedly but his words prove more invasive.
Handling his admittance was one thing, but he tries to pull from her now. His questions make her golden gaze fall upon him, as if the questions were more bothersome than accepting. ]
You invade my bath and then expect me to leave? [ Was the first order of business – she knows he won't leave the tub. He's not an insensitive man when it came to her. Part of her didn't like the partial treatment, but she was far too old for this dance. ] This whole world is stupid. If you've lived a life as long as I have, it'll become clear.
[ ... There was a little vagueness there, as if she's telling him he will understand it. Hm. Sus.
But, for now, she sees a boy before her – how couldn't she? Even under the scars left behind and how he's healed from every one ... there's something there that she reaches out to. Her hand moves to find his on the edge of the tub. A tender touch, but she doesn't call for him. They meet in the middle. ]
You're asking me questions I don't know the answer to. What I possess leads a lonely road, an obligation to carry when kings fall and civilizations come and go. This is how I've felt for so long that the word loses all impact. It is all that I am, I'd imagine.
[ Lonely. ]
What do you feel we are? What do you see me as beyond what I have been?
no subject
She doesn't look at him when he starts speaking with a candor she's grown use to. It wasn't refreshing as much as it was... expected. There were few things Jason hesitated with, got bashful over. There's an admittance of loneliness and she shuts her eyes to listen to him speak. They were close – more than physically – whether they were admitting it to themselves. A bullet was little for her to grow concerned with, she'd take it for him repeatedly but his words prove more invasive.
Handling his admittance was one thing, but he tries to pull from her now. His questions make her golden gaze fall upon him, as if the questions were more bothersome than accepting. ]
You invade my bath and then expect me to leave? [ Was the first order of business – she knows he won't leave the tub. He's not an insensitive man when it came to her. Part of her didn't like the partial treatment, but she was far too old for this dance. ] This whole world is stupid. If you've lived a life as long as I have, it'll become clear.
[ ... There was a little vagueness there, as if she's telling him he will understand it. Hm. Sus.
But, for now, she sees a boy before her – how couldn't she? Even under the scars left behind and how he's healed from every one ... there's something there that she reaches out to. Her hand moves to find his on the edge of the tub. A tender touch, but she doesn't call for him. They meet in the middle. ]
You're asking me questions I don't know the answer to. What I possess leads a lonely road, an obligation to carry when kings fall and civilizations come and go. This is how I've felt for so long that the word loses all impact. It is all that I am, I'd imagine.
[ Lonely. ]
What do you feel we are? What do you see me as beyond what I have been?