[ He knows that the norms he holds to are quite different to what's normal to many others here — knows that his agony over initially referring to Kate more casually than was 'appropriate' (he'd thought she was younger, due to the length of her skirt...) was something that few others here would agonise over. He's constantly reminded of his own strangeness even in this strange place — there are so many terms, inventions, customs, that feel so alien to him. He must seem so alien to others, in return.
But, all of it to say that some part of him, perhaps the greater part, already knows that Wynonna won't have taken offense for it. And yet it's still such a.... relief to have clarification of that. It comes after a quick moment of stun — she starts laughing, and it catches Edward completely off-guard, eyes wide, locked on, staring, as her mouth tugs wider into a smile and her eyes narrow with it, and she's leaning backwards as though the mirth has weakened her for the moment.
It's so... rare to see someone laugh, and to laugh like that. So open, unrestrained, (free, is the word that might come to mind, when he explores this memory again later). People don't laugh like that where and when he is from. ....Although perhaps on the ships, from time to time, one might catch the loud laughter of a seaman, a boy. Certainly not an officer, but.... one might hear it coming from somewhere below. A loud display of delight, unfiltered, joyful. There was joy on the open water, once. It wasn't always something so horrific.
He doesn't know that he's ever quite laughed like that. If he has, it would have been so long ago, when he was more of a boy than a man, perhaps while playing, perhaps before he began to structure himself into the role he holds today. He can't remember it, if so. He can't imagine it ever happening.
And yet, watching her.... that odd warmth from before spreads, maybe in other ways, different types of ways — a tug up under his sternum, a loosening of some perpetual tight knot that occupies his stomach. A quiet tug at the corners of his own mouth, and the gesture is still controlled, still maintained, but it warms the browns of his own eyes, melts them to something soft and perhaps even affectionate, and through his stun and the soft glazy layer that the alcohol pads his vision with, he realises he feels happy, too. That it's nice to see Wynonna laugh, that as unexpected as it is, he wouldn't dislike seeing it again.
If it was difficult to look at her just moments ago, he feels much the opposite in this moment, and finds that he's having a hard time looking away. He only does when she takes another swallow of her drink, that laughter died down but its presence still felt, something that's brightened the air, the darkness of this place, this lonely wooden cabin out near the cold woods. He takes another drink of his own, lowers it to rest carefully at his knee. There are dimples in her cheeks, youthful, charming. ]
Then I am deeply relieved, Miss Earp. [ It feels a little different now, now that permission has been granted — whether she meant it playfully or not, it flipped a switch in his mind, made it something else, now. (A little safer? More familiar? He still can't quite figure out what shape this woman occupies within his mind, but it feels different now.)
And more things are beginning to feel different now, as he adjusts his position on the sofa and finds that even just a little bit of movement kickstarts some of that growing dizziness, like a swirl of liquid in his head. He blinks, a little glossily, and looks back over to her with that echo of a smile. ]
I am beginning to think there is nothing that could offend you.
[ It doesn't sound like an insult, a judgment of her character — and it isn't one. It's conversational more than anything, head tilting just slightly to the side. ]
I must admit, some part of me envies such a concept. It is difficult to become closer with others, at times — there is much that is not appropriate for me to engage with, at my ranking.
[ A pause, something working itself in his mind. His greatcoat and cap and various other things are all stashed away, and have been ever since the shadowed thing was here, haunting him. Perhaps to her, and perhaps only to her, he can admit— ]
....I have had little desire to return to that man, with that ranking. It has been almost a relief to shed my coat, for a time.
Wynonna: laughs | Ned: 70 paragraphs of introspection about it
But, all of it to say that some part of him, perhaps the greater part, already knows that Wynonna won't have taken offense for it. And yet it's still such a.... relief to have clarification of that. It comes after a quick moment of stun — she starts laughing, and it catches Edward completely off-guard, eyes wide, locked on, staring, as her mouth tugs wider into a smile and her eyes narrow with it, and she's leaning backwards as though the mirth has weakened her for the moment.
It's so... rare to see someone laugh, and to laugh like that. So open, unrestrained, (free, is the word that might come to mind, when he explores this memory again later). People don't laugh like that where and when he is from. ....Although perhaps on the ships, from time to time, one might catch the loud laughter of a seaman, a boy. Certainly not an officer, but.... one might hear it coming from somewhere below. A loud display of delight, unfiltered, joyful. There was joy on the open water, once. It wasn't always something so horrific.
He doesn't know that he's ever quite laughed like that. If he has, it would have been so long ago, when he was more of a boy than a man, perhaps while playing, perhaps before he began to structure himself into the role he holds today. He can't remember it, if so. He can't imagine it ever happening.
And yet, watching her.... that odd warmth from before spreads, maybe in other ways, different types of ways — a tug up under his sternum, a loosening of some perpetual tight knot that occupies his stomach. A quiet tug at the corners of his own mouth, and the gesture is still controlled, still maintained, but it warms the browns of his own eyes, melts them to something soft and perhaps even affectionate, and through his stun and the soft glazy layer that the alcohol pads his vision with, he realises he feels happy, too. That it's nice to see Wynonna laugh, that as unexpected as it is, he wouldn't dislike seeing it again.
If it was difficult to look at her just moments ago, he feels much the opposite in this moment, and finds that he's having a hard time looking away. He only does when she takes another swallow of her drink, that laughter died down but its presence still felt, something that's brightened the air, the darkness of this place, this lonely wooden cabin out near the cold woods. He takes another drink of his own, lowers it to rest carefully at his knee. There are dimples in her cheeks, youthful, charming. ]
Then I am deeply relieved, Miss Earp. [ It feels a little different now, now that permission has been granted — whether she meant it playfully or not, it flipped a switch in his mind, made it something else, now. (A little safer? More familiar? He still can't quite figure out what shape this woman occupies within his mind, but it feels different now.)
And more things are beginning to feel different now, as he adjusts his position on the sofa and finds that even just a little bit of movement kickstarts some of that growing dizziness, like a swirl of liquid in his head. He blinks, a little glossily, and looks back over to her with that echo of a smile. ]
I am beginning to think there is nothing that could offend you.
[ It doesn't sound like an insult, a judgment of her character — and it isn't one. It's conversational more than anything, head tilting just slightly to the side. ]
I must admit, some part of me envies such a concept. It is difficult to become closer with others, at times — there is much that is not appropriate for me to engage with, at my ranking.
[ A pause, something working itself in his mind. His greatcoat and cap and various other things are all stashed away, and have been ever since the shadowed thing was here, haunting him. Perhaps to her, and perhaps only to her, he can admit— ]
....I have had little desire to return to that man, with that ranking. It has been almost a relief to shed my coat, for a time.