For a moment Raju looks at him, wide-eyed in the glow of the cave.
Possibility, Fitzjames calls it, but it hadn't been. Not really. Not one he'd ever seriously considered. The man at their cabin had been a danger, he'd been lying because of course someone dangerous that way would lie.
It's the way that Fitzjames says it. Matter of factly, as if anyone would— It'd hit him then too afterward, with Fitzjames freshly alive inside and safe and the panic that'd been in Francis' voice still settling in his ears. The reality of himself. And then he'd put it away. Here it is again now, in a different shape: the idea that any man — a different man, stronger, strong enough to hold onto the parts of himself Raju can't afford to lose — would have really considered this simple thing. Of course that better man, or anyone at all, would have thought why they should stop.
The set of his jaw hardens.
"You wouldn't tell me who you were," he turns to pace again, trying to sound just as good natured as he had a moment ago but not quite able to keep the tension out from under his voice. "Was I supposed to think that made you more honest?"
In a sudden, startled movement Raju's arms unfold and he gives his hand a quick, instinctive shake, the little flash of fire that'd started in his palm going out. He presses the fingers of his other hand into the stinging skin, looking up reflexively— but there's no sound. No rumbling signal of any untruth. So, emotional or not, his questions must have been reasonable.
no subject
Possibility, Fitzjames calls it, but it hadn't been. Not really. Not one he'd ever seriously considered. The man at their cabin had been a danger, he'd been lying because of course someone dangerous that way would lie.
It's the way that Fitzjames says it. Matter of factly, as if anyone would— It'd hit him then too afterward, with Fitzjames freshly alive inside and safe and the panic that'd been in Francis' voice still settling in his ears. The reality of himself. And then he'd put it away. Here it is again now, in a different shape: the idea that any man — a different man, stronger, strong enough to hold onto the parts of himself Raju can't afford to lose — would have really considered this simple thing. Of course that better man, or anyone at all, would have thought why they should stop.
The set of his jaw hardens.
"You wouldn't tell me who you were," he turns to pace again, trying to sound just as good natured as he had a moment ago but not quite able to keep the tension out from under his voice. "Was I supposed to think that made you more honest?"
In a sudden, startled movement Raju's arms unfold and he gives his hand a quick, instinctive shake, the little flash of fire that'd started in his palm going out. He presses the fingers of his other hand into the stinging skin, looking up reflexively— but there's no sound. No rumbling signal of any untruth. So, emotional or not, his questions must have been reasonable.