... He was kind of a jerk, yeah. [ There's a beat as she considers. He might not know what that means. ] He was unkind. About... what I stand for, what I believe in.
[ Nothing that she hasn't heard before, in truth. And there's a little dullness to voice in that — it's nothing new for Kate Marsh. But she's a little uneasy — he looks so worried, and she doesn't want to trouble him further. There's a little guilt there, in her eyes. Like she wishes she hadn't said anything about it. And she knows he would likely tell her she'd have nothing to feel bad for, but she knows this is so much... that she's been so much for him. It's not fair. Burdens upon burdens.
But he asks. He asks what Mr Hickey had said to her, how he'd been with her. It feels wrong to keep it from him. She certainly silently debates over it for a few moments, fidgeting a little on the spot. ]
He said he... he 'hoped someone found me before we ran out of tins'. Talked about how we're pretty much abandoned here, that we have to rely on ourselves. And— with winter on the way— [ How much harder it might get. If they can't find game or fish or find things to eat. ]
That... [ She inhales, then sighs. ] 'morals' and a 'tenderhearted nature' can only get me so far.
[ Mr Hickey is not a nice man, and he's wrong about that. She knows it's... uh, crap. Goodsir had assured her the opposite, that they were important. Morals. Kindness. Assurances that echoed the Lieutenant's words up high over the basin. That who she is is meaningful in this place, that it's important — perhaps now more than ever. She tries to remember that more than she does Mr Hickey's words. ]
He... um, got really weird about God and then got real nasty about Him. To the point he was... kinda scary. [ That was... really... something. He was so bitter about it, and then so cold. She shudders without meaning to: If I were you? I'd think it would be a good idea to find something else to talk about. Kate had let the conversation drop, and Mr Hickey had been quick to leave, thank goodness. ]
I know not to trust him. That I need to be careful. I know that, now. [ She's... trying to assure him with that. Goodsir's provided enough knowledge to arm herself with. That she needs to be careful about him. ] And I've stayed away from him since then.
no subject
[ Nothing that she hasn't heard before, in truth. And there's a little dullness to voice in that — it's nothing new for Kate Marsh. But she's a little uneasy — he looks so worried, and she doesn't want to trouble him further. There's a little guilt there, in her eyes. Like she wishes she hadn't said anything about it. And she knows he would likely tell her she'd have nothing to feel bad for, but she knows this is so much... that she's been so much for him. It's not fair. Burdens upon burdens.
But he asks. He asks what Mr Hickey had said to her, how he'd been with her. It feels wrong to keep it from him. She certainly silently debates over it for a few moments, fidgeting a little on the spot. ]
He said he... he 'hoped someone found me before we ran out of tins'. Talked about how we're pretty much abandoned here, that we have to rely on ourselves. And— with winter on the way— [ How much harder it might get. If they can't find game or fish or find things to eat. ]
That... [ She inhales, then sighs. ] 'morals' and a 'tenderhearted nature' can only get me so far.
[ Mr Hickey is not a nice man, and he's wrong about that. She knows it's... uh, crap. Goodsir had assured her the opposite, that they were important. Morals. Kindness. Assurances that echoed the Lieutenant's words up high over the basin. That who she is is meaningful in this place, that it's important — perhaps now more than ever. She tries to remember that more than she does Mr Hickey's words. ]
He... um, got really weird about God and then got real nasty about Him. To the point he was... kinda scary. [ That was... really... something. He was so bitter about it, and then so cold. She shudders without meaning to: If I were you? I'd think it would be a good idea to find something else to talk about. Kate had let the conversation drop, and Mr Hickey had been quick to leave, thank goodness. ]
I know not to trust him. That I need to be careful. I know that, now. [ She's... trying to assure him with that. Goodsir's provided enough knowledge to arm herself with. That she needs to be careful about him. ] And I've stayed away from him since then.