( funnily enough, she doesn't feel all right, but some of the disjointed rambling into what's probably a quite nice shirt even if she didn't make it may or may not illuminate anything further, )
I thought you wouldn't mind because we care about each other and you don't have to argue with people all of the time and you'd probably be tired and I could, I could, I could,
( she is holding his handkerchief very tightly, )
keep you company.
( but it's hard not to pick at him, it's habit, and what if actually he was just tired of her. )
[ We care about each other? That is - Well. That is certainly...a bit of a reversal from - what she'd just said. And a bit of a reversal from what he generally assumes is her position on Byerly Rutyer, the man ever so like her much-maligned father. The man rescued by her much-maligned father. But here she is, blurting out we care about each other like it's a truth self-evident. Like it's not anything new to him. ]
Well, I - don't. Mind.
[ Is this a trap? Some revenge plot? Did Lexie tell Gwenaelle about By's putative joking seduction? Did Gwenaelle somehow hear about the betting pool? Because it does all feel bizarrely close to the way the famed soprano Viola Montagne had attempted to seduce him, once, on a bet, during a period when he'd sworn off women altogether. Maker, if it goes that way - if it's anything like that - he may actually hurl himself from the window. ]
( it doesn't seem to be a trap. or at least it doesn't spring, gwenaëlle subsiding into smaller, hiccoughing sobs that come further apart, her knees slung over the side of his chair like a child and her chin tucked down, the top of her head communicating very little at the angle he can see it. )
I mean, ( bitterly, ) how hard can it possibly not to pick at someone for half an hour. Ten minutes. If you can argue with someone, can't you also be quiet with them?
( apparently she's found it quite difficult. )
"Isn't that what you're doing", he says. What a cunt. ( what a good observation of the way she is relentlessly smashing through everything that matters to her. )
You care about me so you argue with me and I argue with you and you're never nice to me so you wouldn't be. I don't want to go home to Lexie and be understood.
( and receive kindness she can't bear from someone she can't bear to hurt as well. she didn't mean to hurt byerly, either. she keeps hurting herself. )
( she has crushed his handkerchief, just about, and manages to wipe her eyes with the knuckles of the fist it's trapped in.
all right, she thinks. )
All right. I'm.
( sad, and stupid, and very small. )
- going to go and sleep.
( she slinks off his chair, briefly looking almost surprised to have looked up from her fit and found herself where she did, and manages to gather the mess she's made of her things with some shreds of dignity before taking them with her into his bedroom.
hardie lies back down next to whiskey. bitches crazy, is he right. )
He wonders, for a moment, who Gwenaelle thinks he is. What she expects of him. What she wants him to be. He has no idea how close that thing is to who he actually is.
But - Well, whatever. If he can bring her some measure of peace tonight, so be it. He's not certain whether he actually has, but...So be it. ]
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I thought you wouldn't mind because we care about each other and you don't have to argue with people all of the time and you'd probably be tired and I could, I could, I could,
( she is holding his handkerchief very tightly, )
keep you company.
( but it's hard not to pick at him, it's habit, and what if actually he was just tired of her. )
no subject
Well, I - don't. Mind.
[ Is this a trap? Some revenge plot? Did Lexie tell Gwenaelle about By's putative joking seduction? Did Gwenaelle somehow hear about the betting pool? Because it does all feel bizarrely close to the way the famed soprano Viola Montagne had attempted to seduce him, once, on a bet, during a period when he'd sworn off women altogether. Maker, if it goes that way - if it's anything like that - he may actually hurl himself from the window. ]
no subject
I mean, ( bitterly, ) how hard can it possibly not to pick at someone for half an hour. Ten minutes. If you can argue with someone, can't you also be quiet with them?
( apparently she's found it quite difficult. )
"Isn't that what you're doing", he says. What a cunt. ( what a good observation of the way she is relentlessly smashing through everything that matters to her. )
You care about me so you argue with me and I argue with you and you're never nice to me so you wouldn't be. I don't want to go home to Lexie and be understood.
( and receive kindness she can't bear from someone she can't bear to hurt as well. she didn't mean to hurt byerly, either. she keeps hurting herself. )
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Am I the cunt in this situation?
[ The easiest question to start with, to be sure. Who's he? Thranduil, he supposes, if not himself. ]
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( almost immediately before, in fact.
after a while, )
I thought I'd misread it. That you just argue with me because you think I'm lazy and tiresome.
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Maker - [ What? ] I argue with people who can take it. The people I don't argue with are stupid people and sad people.
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Well, good. Me, too.
( but, )
I'd like not to argue for a bit.
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He doesn't really know what to do. ]
All right.
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all right, she thinks. )
All right. I'm.
( sad, and stupid, and very small. )
- going to go and sleep.
( she slinks off his chair, briefly looking almost surprised to have looked up from her fit and found herself where she did, and manages to gather the mess she's made of her things with some shreds of dignity before taking them with her into his bedroom.
hardie lies back down next to whiskey. bitches crazy, is he right. )
no subject
He wonders, for a moment, who Gwenaelle thinks he is. What she expects of him. What she wants him to be. He has no idea how close that thing is to who he actually is.
But - Well, whatever. If he can bring her some measure of peace tonight, so be it. He's not certain whether he actually has, but...So be it. ]
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Hardie!
( he busses his head against whiskey, rises. regards byerly with the look of one greatly put upon, and then follows dutifully after her.
and then it's just quiet, and eventually they must both be sleeping. she'll leave in the morning. )