She scoffs a little at that, eyes rolling as she does. “Your life’s goal was taking down Pekka Rollins. And you’ve already done that. Is making me laugh really the next best thing?” It’s silly, really. Someone as long-sighted as Kaz had to have plenty of other far more important things in his lineup than…that.
“It’s okay,” she says quickly into the silence after his false start. “You don’t have to answer that.” Giving him an out felt… necessary, for his sake as well as her own. Dignity in tact, their standing among each other perfect preserved on its perch.
But… he does anyway. He gives her an answer, a real one. The kind she hadn’t expected. The kind that goes and gets stuck between her ribs and steals her breath. Makes her whole body go far too still with the weight of it.
Her lips roll together in her hesitation, unsure of the right response to such an honest answer to such a facetious question. But it had been real, too, hadn’t it? Some brazen part of her had wanted to know if he thought himself her keeper, thought her… as owed to him. Less because Kaz has ever treated their very specific situation as anything like owner and slave and more… ingrained habit learned to assume the worst in everyone. A lesson The Barrel taught all of its children very quickly, and very thoroughly.
“Thank you…” doesn’t feel quite like the right thing to say, but she’s unsure what else could go in its place, too. It’s small. Not even a kruge’s worth of a shift. But it is still a sense of growth, a level of understanding he couldn’t have had not that long ago.
Whatever any of this means— and she does not delude herself into thinking a single conversation could define it— it is theirs to figure out together. And it means more than she knows how to put in words.
no subject
“It’s okay,” she says quickly into the silence after his false start. “You don’t have to answer that.” Giving him an out felt… necessary, for his sake as well as her own. Dignity in tact, their standing among each other perfect preserved on its perch.
But… he does anyway. He gives her an answer, a real one. The kind she hadn’t expected. The kind that goes and gets stuck between her ribs and steals her breath. Makes her whole body go far too still with the weight of it.
Her lips roll together in her hesitation, unsure of the right response to such an honest answer to such a facetious question. But it had been real, too, hadn’t it? Some brazen part of her had wanted to know if he thought himself her keeper, thought her… as owed to him. Less because Kaz has ever treated their very specific situation as anything like owner and slave and more… ingrained habit learned to assume the worst in everyone. A lesson The Barrel taught all of its children very quickly, and very thoroughly.
“Thank you…” doesn’t feel quite like the right thing to say, but she’s unsure what else could go in its place, too. It’s small. Not even a kruge’s worth of a shift. But it is still a sense of growth, a level of understanding he couldn’t have had not that long ago.
Whatever any of this means— and she does not delude herself into thinking a single conversation could define it— it is theirs to figure out together. And it means more than she knows how to put in words.