[It's an answer she doesn't want to give, something she would much rather avoid because she knows what the point of it is and she... doesn't want to think much of it. In a way she knows she jumps the gun every single time, before she knows a goddamned thing about anyone. It's just sort of her nature to rush into things and worry about the issues later down the line, if at all.
Which might be why his words aren't making her feel any better about this situation and she's right back to pacing. But luckily there's... less panic to it and more a need to do something other than sit still. She never stayed still for long and even now that stands true.]
No fucking shit you're a thief. I don't have a fuckin' place to judge that, it's only being here that I've cleaned any of my own fucking act up. I was trying, kinda, before. I was a fucking gangster of a sort, I fucking mugged people, I was a fucking carjacker. So no fucking shit I realized that. Goddamn.
[In a way it's almost nice to get this shit off her chest, even if it's not doing anything for her in the long or short run. She knows it's not her fault. She knows that he knows that. He only needed to say that once. But it doesn't feel like it's not. And if she's so easy to manipulate? Then that's even more concerning to her, to be out of control like that.
But before she can speak again, it's the last past that causes her to pause to finally look at him, nails biting into the palms of her hands hard enough to turn her knuckles white.]
Maybe, for fucking once, that'd be good for you to do. It's absolutely fucking frustrating to just try and talk to you sometimes. It just feels like everything is fucking calculated down to the smallest and most insignificant detail and it drives me nuts. [Deep breaths, right. Don't get to this point again.]
I'm not saying that you absolutely have to, you have your fucking reasons. It's just that it feels like I just turn everything over and I have to pull teeth to get a damn thing from you. I don't hate you, I don't despite you, none of that shit at all. I want to know more and you won't fucking let me.
no subject
Which might be why his words aren't making her feel any better about this situation and she's right back to pacing. But luckily there's... less panic to it and more a need to do something other than sit still. She never stayed still for long and even now that stands true.]
No fucking shit you're a thief. I don't have a fuckin' place to judge that, it's only being here that I've cleaned any of my own fucking act up. I was trying, kinda, before. I was a fucking gangster of a sort, I fucking mugged people, I was a fucking carjacker. So no fucking shit I realized that. Goddamn.
[In a way it's almost nice to get this shit off her chest, even if it's not doing anything for her in the long or short run. She knows it's not her fault. She knows that he knows that. He only needed to say that once. But it doesn't feel like it's not. And if she's so easy to manipulate? Then that's even more concerning to her, to be out of control like that.
But before she can speak again, it's the last past that causes her to pause to finally look at him, nails biting into the palms of her hands hard enough to turn her knuckles white.]
Maybe, for fucking once, that'd be good for you to do. It's absolutely fucking frustrating to just try and talk to you sometimes. It just feels like everything is fucking calculated down to the smallest and most insignificant detail and it drives me nuts. [Deep breaths, right. Don't get to this point again.]
I'm not saying that you absolutely have to, you have your fucking reasons. It's just that it feels like I just turn everything over and I have to pull teeth to get a damn thing from you. I don't hate you, I don't despite you, none of that shit at all. I want to know more and you won't fucking let me.