[ She expects him to sigh, to give her that pained look that says Miss Earp, please as clearly as if he'd spoken the words, but instead he repeats that word – inappropriate – and something about that word in his rich voice, with that faint huff of breath behind it, actually almost feels a little inappropriate. And then he keeps going, and she grins, leans forward to smack the back of her hand against his nearest shoulder. ]
Little!
[ His name comes out on an almost-laugh of her own. Turns out there's some life in him after all, which is both a pleasant surprise and something she wants to pounce on immediately; she wants to pry it out of him until she's finally managed to catch a glimpse of whoever he is under the uniform and behind all his rigid propriety.
Except this can't be proper, exactly, right? How often has he ever hung out with a woman alone before? ]
That was almost a joke. I'm honestly proud.
[ But he turns serious again almost immediately after, asking her questions she doesn't have any idea how to answer. What is left?
She's questioned how tightly he's been holding onto the thought of himself as a Lieutenant, with all the rules and restrictions that go along with that same title. But has she been doing the same thing, herself? She clings to Peacemaker, even though the gun's lost any supernatural capability. But there are no revenants here. The only curse is on all of them, not just her.
So what is left? ]
I don't know.
[ There's something about his sincerity, about the way he asks her these things as if she were a respected colleague and not just a random woman who gives him a hard time whenever possible that compels her to be honest with him in return. And it's... nice. To think her opinion might hold some weight with him, the way his does with her. He wants to know what she thinks; one of a handful of people she can say that about.
The funny thing is, she wants to know what he thinks about what she thinks. She wants to sit here and talk with him about this stuff for as long as he'll let her. It soothes some still-wrinkled part of her soul. If she still had that shadowy twin, she thinks it would be long gone by now, banished by the warm weight of his regard. ]
I can't be what I was at home here. Which is good, probably, but... if I'm not the heir, I guess what's left is... just me.
[ She shrugs again, slight, a little uncomfortable. ] For whatever that's worth. My point is –
[ What is her point? She eyes her own drink for a moment, noticing for the first time that her thoughts are a little fuzzy, that her face is a little tingly. She shakes it off and reaches to prod him in the shoulder again, not quite as obnoxiously hard as she might on another day. ]
There's still a guy left, even without all those things. And that guy, you know, earned the rank, and everything else. So I'm guessing there's plenty left.
no subject
Little!
[ His name comes out on an almost-laugh of her own. Turns out there's some life in him after all, which is both a pleasant surprise and something she wants to pounce on immediately; she wants to pry it out of him until she's finally managed to catch a glimpse of whoever he is under the uniform and behind all his rigid propriety.
Except this can't be proper, exactly, right? How often has he ever hung out with a woman alone before? ]
That was almost a joke. I'm honestly proud.
[ But he turns serious again almost immediately after, asking her questions she doesn't have any idea how to answer. What is left?
She's questioned how tightly he's been holding onto the thought of himself as a Lieutenant, with all the rules and restrictions that go along with that same title. But has she been doing the same thing, herself? She clings to Peacemaker, even though the gun's lost any supernatural capability. But there are no revenants here. The only curse is on all of them, not just her.
So what is left? ]
I don't know.
[ There's something about his sincerity, about the way he asks her these things as if she were a respected colleague and not just a random woman who gives him a hard time whenever possible that compels her to be honest with him in return. And it's... nice. To think her opinion might hold some weight with him, the way his does with her. He wants to know what she thinks; one of a handful of people she can say that about.
The funny thing is, she wants to know what he thinks about what she thinks. She wants to sit here and talk with him about this stuff for as long as he'll let her. It soothes some still-wrinkled part of her soul. If she still had that shadowy twin, she thinks it would be long gone by now, banished by the warm weight of his regard. ]
I can't be what I was at home here. Which is good, probably, but... if I'm not the heir, I guess what's left is... just me.
[ She shrugs again, slight, a little uncomfortable. ] For whatever that's worth. My point is –
[ What is her point? She eyes her own drink for a moment, noticing for the first time that her thoughts are a little fuzzy, that her face is a little tingly. She shakes it off and reaches to prod him in the shoulder again, not quite as obnoxiously hard as she might on another day. ]
There's still a guy left, even without all those things. And that guy, you know, earned the rank, and everything else. So I'm guessing there's plenty left.