[It's probably not unexpected, the tumultuous conflict in his emotions and his eyes. There's compassion, of course--a deep, genuine ache, and that fury on her behalf, much too dark to be righteous. But for all the time he spends in the shadows, he is, ultimately a creature of light.]
...I worked a case a little while ago. [He says, finally.] Investigating the death of a man named Gordon Grant. He owned a chain of pharmacies--he was a very wealthy man, very successful. His wife had already passed away, but he'd had a mistress, and she lived with him at the time. His son, too, the one he'd had with his wife.
He had a little girl by her--Joey. Eight years old. [...] She'd always been... ill. In her body, and her mind. And the more we looked into the case, the more we found that things weren't adding up. [His tone, already quiet, turns icy and dark.] Eventually, we learned that Grant had used experimental drugs on his mistress while she was pregnant. After Joey was born, he used them on her, too. She wasn't born sick--she was the victim of her father's selfish quest for eternal youth. [...] I don't condone murder. But every time I think about this case, I can't help but feel that Grant got what he deserved.
[He falls quiet for a little while, until the anger dulls to a low simmer. Eventually, he lifts his head to meet her eyes.]
Your parents... I have no doubt that you'll make sure they're brought to justice. For what they did to you, and anyone else they might've hurt. [He hesitates, then, choosing his words carefully.] ...But I hope the choice you make is truly yours. Not what you think they've made you. Not something you may regret, when you can breathe again.
and - maybe he'll find the way she responds to be unexpected in some ways. a little girl, eight years old, in a situation she didn't ask for - this one isn't strange, there's just a soft, pained feeling. empathy. familiar. it gets worse, as he describes what happened to her, and then it ends up what might be the unexpected part - a jolt, at eternal youth. something horrible and nauseated rises up in her throat and for a second it almost chokes her. makes her feel dizzy.
but she forces it back, away, and focuses on his anger. taps into that instead.
the quiet gives her time to recover. she looks down at her hands - at the tattoo.]
... I won't regret it. [she says, quietly. very, very sure. like it's already a done deal.] Not them.
[she doesn't look back up at him.]
I know what I am. The whole... the whole point of this was to find a way to someday put it behind me.
[He's too observant not to notice the shifts in her emotions, but while he tucks them away in his mind, he doesn't call attention to them now. He's too focused on her words, which...
Well. It's not like he expected to change her mind, really; they're strangers, after all, no matter the secrets they've dared to share. It hurts to hear nonetheless, but it's a broad, all-encompassing feeling, rather than a simple, straightforward disappointment. There's more than one shade of gray. He knows that.
There's a sadness, there, in his emotions--a mirror, perhaps, of what she'd felt for him, when she'd told him he was begging the world to stab him in the back.
At least there's hope in her words, though. That's a good sign. It's proof that she's looking ahead, that she wants to live beyond revenge.]
[it's always been the goal - all she wants is to be free. it isn't even necessarily about revenge, it's that she doesn't want to be caged anymore. it's all she's wanted for months now, traveling with her companions. the chains are so hard to escape, and they feel so heavy.
she appreciates that he doesn't try to convince her otherwise, because this is something she knows she has to do. maybe she doesn't know a lot about him, but she's not half bad at figuring out how people are, and to her - luke seems like the kind of person to know that the world is an awful, dragging place, that maybe there isn't any hope, and yet. still have it anyway.
she gives him a little smile. it's sad and tired, but she tries.]
Thank you. [...] ... And thank you, for wanting to help me.
[even though she systematically resists his attempts every time]
You deserve the offer. [She isn't like Gordon Grant, shamelessly stealing from and torturing his children. Joanne Scott, Irene Burke, Rio--there have been so many like Throné, the ones who simply did what they felt they must. Luke is hardly one to claim every person in the world is good and deserving of mercy, but he believes, wholeheartedly, that vigilante justice causes far more problems than it solves--and yet, at the end of the day, he's only human. He can see how the world must look through her eyes.] I hope you make it back to the light soon.
[...]
She's okay, by the way. Joey. My team got her taken care of.
anyway. i hope you make it back to the light soon hurts a little, but more in that agreement sort of way. she hopes she does too, she just isn't sure she'll get to.
she swallows hard.]
... That's good to know. [she says, after a moment.] But little girls never recover from things like that.
He sits, for a moment, still--but she allowed it once, so he reaches out and gently squeezes her arm again.]
No. [He agrees.] But there's a chance the doctors can reverse the damage, and she'll be looked after until she's grown either way. And we have... professionals, in my world, who help with... learning to cope.
she doesn't pull away when he squeezes her arm. just exhales slow, and that sadness, the sorrow that sits deep in her bones and stays, like a chronic pain, gets a little worse, feels a little more sharp. she doesn't seem to notice it, or at the very least, it seems normal to her.]
[This time, he'll leave it there, loose enough for her to pull away when she wants. The shifts in her emotions concern him a little, but he suspects calling attention to them wouldn't help--at least for now.]
I try. It's something I learned years ago, from my senior. [He tips his head back, his tone turning slightly nostalgic.] He said, "To children, the world is black and white, while adults can see a gray zone. But in our world, there's a lot more darkness. Not only because of the crimes we face, but because the limits of our abilities. The pain can be unbearable, so you have to find a way to keep yourself from being swallowed up by the darkness."
[He tilts his head slightly, considering.]
I carry regrets, just like anyone. There are people I couldn't save in time. Tragedies that could've been avoided, but weren't. Sometimes it's hard not to judge people--bad people can be victims, and good people can hurt others. [Shades of gray in the darkness.] So... I just try to bring more light into the world however I can.
Edited (the way my keyboard died before I could edit this tag) 2024-03-01 06:36 (UTC)
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no subject
...I worked a case a little while ago. [He says, finally.] Investigating the death of a man named Gordon Grant. He owned a chain of pharmacies--he was a very wealthy man, very successful. His wife had already passed away, but he'd had a mistress, and she lived with him at the time. His son, too, the one he'd had with his wife.
He had a little girl by her--Joey. Eight years old. [...] She'd always been... ill. In her body, and her mind. And the more we looked into the case, the more we found that things weren't adding up. [His tone, already quiet, turns icy and dark.] Eventually, we learned that Grant had used experimental drugs on his mistress while she was pregnant. After Joey was born, he used them on her, too. She wasn't born sick--she was the victim of her father's selfish quest for eternal youth. [...] I don't condone murder. But every time I think about this case, I can't help but feel that Grant got what he deserved.
[He falls quiet for a little while, until the anger dulls to a low simmer. Eventually, he lifts his head to meet her eyes.]
Your parents... I have no doubt that you'll make sure they're brought to justice. For what they did to you, and anyone else they might've hurt. [He hesitates, then, choosing his words carefully.] ...But I hope the choice you make is truly yours. Not what you think they've made you. Not something you may regret, when you can breathe again.
no subject
and - maybe he'll find the way she responds to be unexpected in some ways. a little girl, eight years old, in a situation she didn't ask for - this one isn't strange, there's just a soft, pained feeling. empathy. familiar. it gets worse, as he describes what happened to her, and then it ends up what might be the unexpected part - a jolt, at eternal youth. something horrible and nauseated rises up in her throat and for a second it almost chokes her. makes her feel dizzy.
but she forces it back, away, and focuses on his anger. taps into that instead.
the quiet gives her time to recover. she looks down at her hands - at the tattoo.]
... I won't regret it. [she says, quietly. very, very sure. like it's already a done deal.] Not them.
[she doesn't look back up at him.]
I know what I am. The whole... the whole point of this was to find a way to someday put it behind me.
no subject
Well. It's not like he expected to change her mind, really; they're strangers, after all, no matter the secrets they've dared to share. It hurts to hear nonetheless, but it's a broad, all-encompassing feeling, rather than a simple, straightforward disappointment. There's more than one shade of gray. He knows that.
There's a sadness, there, in his emotions--a mirror, perhaps, of what she'd felt for him, when she'd told him he was begging the world to stab him in the back.
At least there's hope in her words, though. That's a good sign. It's proof that she's looking ahead, that she wants to live beyond revenge.]
You will. [Firmly.] I believe that.
no subject
she appreciates that he doesn't try to convince her otherwise, because this is something she knows she has to do. maybe she doesn't know a lot about him, but she's not half bad at figuring out how people are, and to her - luke seems like the kind of person to know that the world is an awful, dragging place, that maybe there isn't any hope, and yet. still have it anyway.
she gives him a little smile. it's sad and tired, but she tries.]
Thank you. [...] ... And thank you, for wanting to help me.
[even though she systematically resists his attempts every time]
no subject
You deserve the offer. [She isn't like Gordon Grant, shamelessly stealing from and torturing his children. Joanne Scott, Irene Burke, Rio--there have been so many like Throné, the ones who simply did what they felt they must. Luke is hardly one to claim every person in the world is good and deserving of mercy, but he believes, wholeheartedly, that vigilante justice causes far more problems than it solves--and yet, at the end of the day, he's only human. He can see how the world must look through her eyes.] I hope you make it back to the light soon.
[...]
She's okay, by the way. Joey. My team got her taken care of.
no subject
anyway. i hope you make it back to the light soon hurts a little, but more in that agreement sort of way. she hopes she does too, she just isn't sure she'll get to.
she swallows hard.]
... That's good to know. [she says, after a moment.] But little girls never recover from things like that.
no subject
He sits, for a moment, still--but she allowed it once, so he reaches out and gently squeezes her arm again.]
No. [He agrees.] But there's a chance the doctors can reverse the damage, and she'll be looked after until she's grown either way. And we have... professionals, in my world, who help with... learning to cope.
[THERAPY]
no subject
she doesn't pull away when he squeezes her arm. just exhales slow, and that sadness, the sorrow that sits deep in her bones and stays, like a chronic pain, gets a little worse, feels a little more sharp. she doesn't seem to notice it, or at the very least, it seems normal to her.]
You really do carry a lot of hope.
no subject
I try. It's something I learned years ago, from my senior. [He tips his head back, his tone turning slightly nostalgic.] He said, "To children, the world is black and white, while adults can see a gray zone. But in our world, there's a lot more darkness. Not only because of the crimes we face, but because the limits of our abilities. The pain can be unbearable, so you have to find a way to keep yourself from being swallowed up by the darkness."
[He tilts his head slightly, considering.]
I carry regrets, just like anyone. There are people I couldn't save in time. Tragedies that could've been avoided, but weren't. Sometimes it's hard not to judge people--bad people can be victims, and good people can hurt others. [Shades of gray in the darkness.] So... I just try to bring more light into the world however I can.