You had a chance to make me, you didn't. And I've left before, because you've told me to. I've yet to see how letting you avoiding your problems has been helpful.
[Although that's not all of it, the rest is far simpler.]
I see a lot of people when I want to avoid my problems. I'm not.. proud of it. I don't see most of them much after the next morning.
I see you because... sometimes, and trust me it can be a faint view, sometimes I see someone I think I can understand. And that person's become important to me.
[Well. There's an answer. She takes a hand to her hair, hesitating there at the top of the plank. She doesn't like the idea of being talked into compliance, but she's also tired of trying to talk him into going.
She turns to head below deck. She's mostly dry from the wind blowing over her, some dampness lingering in her thick hair, but she's still uncomfortably aware of how cold to the touch she is. She heads into the the main quarters, where at least there are some blankets to line between them.]
[The blankets were something to do with her hands, something to avoid him with because there's nothing in this tiny little corner of the ship that belongs to her. There's nothing else to look at, nowhere else to turn except around to him, which means that she's cornered and caught now. It's tempting to let her tension bleed onto him. She's done it before, thrashed until he let her go. That feels like it was a long time ago.]
I don't know what you'd like to be.
[Maybe the slightest bit snide, as if she can put all of this on him, but the real answer is that she's avoided finding out.]
You've never let me find out. [He can't make promises. She's a disaster, he's little better, it's easier to list all the impossible things. But he's patient.] Right now, why don't we just go with 'here'.
[Of course that's her answer, frustrated and petulant and terse, feeling stripped down and too raw, for once. But maybe that was what she wanted, what she'd been trying to get to. It's uncomfortable and she's stuck questioning once again why it is she's doing this; trying so hard.]
[As he winds a corner of the blanket loosely round his wrist. There is a little unfinished business.]
I've seen too many people fuck themselves up over somebody who wasn't worth the time. Don't ever hurt yourself over me. [Other corner, other wrist. Hm.] However much you hate me.
[He hasn't been obedient at all this evening, but he stops long enough to loop the length of cloth between his hands around her shoulders. It's the loosest of holds - she could duck under or pull back and it would come undone. Or she could stay and let him draw her down to the bed with the blankets not between but around them, his arms around her.]
She gives him a sullen-eyed look, but she doesn't fight him to pull free. And it may be slow, but she sinks into his shoulder. It's not relaxed, in the slightest. She's aware of being too still compared to him.]
[It's not a stillness that unsettles Chase - he has too many dead friends in this place - but he'd be blind not to notice her reticence. His hands, settled on her arms, are careful not to try to rub warmth into her skin.]
Think one day we'll be able to get to this point without making each other feel like crap first?
Sometimes I wonder what I even look like to you. [There's that quiet resignation she hears more and more from him now, even when his arms are settled around her waist and his eyes closed, head tilted to hers.] I haven't enjoyed it for a long time, Karlinka.
[He enjoys sport, but she's been playing against herself. He'll exploit people's vulnerabilities when it's necessary, with a hunting-bird's eye for picking them out. But it's not enjoyment.]
[It was meant to be tiresome. She's been trying to keep him out if not drive him away for a long time now, although this is still said whilst some small amount of relaxation ekes out of her, cold hands curling around his arms hesitantly.]
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[Still encroaching.]
Got questions? Ask me.
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Why won't you leave?
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[Although that's not all of it, the rest is far simpler.]
I wanted to see you.
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[How about that, Chase? And even when she says it, she sounds a little conflicted as to whether or not that bothers her.]
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[But.]
That's not what I'm doing now.
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[She's asking, and she's still waiting for an answer that's an answer.]
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I see you because... sometimes, and trust me it can be a faint view, sometimes I see someone I think I can understand. And that person's become important to me.
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She turns to head below deck. She's mostly dry from the wind blowing over her, some dampness lingering in her thick hair, but she's still uncomfortably aware of how cold to the touch she is. She heads into the the main quarters, where at least there are some blankets to line between them.]
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You don't know where you stand? Stand still for five minutes instead of continually running away and maybe I'll be able to figure that out.
[He fidgets, looking at his hands before turning his attention to what possessions she has in the cabin to make it anything like her own.]
I'd like to be more than a bad association to you.
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I've been perfectly still for years.
[She's thinking she might try a new approach.]
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[How he reached the point where he's standing at her shoulder is immaterial. The hands catching her arms, pulling her against him, probably aren't.]
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I don't know what you'd like to be.
[Maybe the slightest bit snide, as if she can put all of this on him, but the real answer is that she's avoided finding out.]
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[Of course that's her answer, frustrated and petulant and terse, feeling stripped down and too raw, for once. But maybe that was what she wanted, what she'd been trying to get to. It's uncomfortable and she's stuck questioning once again why it is she's doing this; trying so hard.]
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[A minute and he reaches to the side of her, pulling the blankets she'd been so fastidious with up and off the bed in a magician's clean sweep.]
And what were you going to do with these?
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[If that helps.]
I was thinking about going to bed.
[And keeping you on the far side of them, is that implied yet? She thinks it is.]
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[As he winds a corner of the blanket loosely round his wrist. There is a little unfinished business.]
I've seen too many people fuck themselves up over somebody who wasn't worth the time. Don't ever hurt yourself over me. [Other corner, other wrist. Hm.] However much you hate me.
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[Because it hurts already.]
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Think one day we'll be able to get to this point without making each other feel like crap first?
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[They wouldn't be talking at all if they were just fucking like rational adults.]
You enjoy it too much.
[She's only being half facetious with her chin digging in to his shoulder.]
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[He enjoys sport, but she's been playing against herself. He'll exploit people's vulnerabilities when it's necessary, with a hunting-bird's eye for picking them out. But it's not enjoyment.]
It's getting tired.
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[It was meant to be tiresome. She's been trying to keep him out if not drive him away for a long time now, although this is still said whilst some small amount of relaxation ekes out of her, cold hands curling around his arms hesitantly.]
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