bolderfell | Daybreak IC Inbox

I--no. The hell?

[Since when were they talking about stuff like that, fairy tales and wanting someone and whether or not--and where'd this idea bubble up from?--she's boring?

Her pacing makes him feel trapped, which he tolerates for all of three seconds before he stops tapping his fingers on the back of her chair and gets up, too, crossing soundlessly to the window. Therion stands there, holding his elbows, looking down four stories at the grounds below instead of at her, at her emotion and energy.]

It's not about your taste. Or anyone else's. Or about how squeaky clean you know I'm not.

[Without thinking about it, he draws one of his arms up until the metal of the shackle presses through his hoodie into his collarbone. Only then does he half-turn to look at her over his shoulder.]

But Jolyne, what else can you even really say you know about me?

[The scars on his back, hidden under everything he wears, face her nonetheless.]

[It's not her intention to trap him, she knows perfectly well he can leave through that window whenever he wants as she never locks the damn thing. There's no reason to do so, she's never had any reason to be bothered by something or someone trying to come into her room. It never mattered.

The question is what stops her pacing, chest heaving with almost panicked breaths before she's taking control of what she can. Close your eyes, focus on your breathing, in a rhythm...

Right. Right right right, this is what she's supposed to do. Keep calm. Remain calm. Or try to.]

Just forget I fucking said anything, I know this isn't the conversation you wanna have and I just kinda... brought it up out of fucking nowhere. [At least she sounds calmer than she did, not that she's looking at him, but it's easier to speak and focus on her breaths if she has nothing to look at.]

All I'm gonna do is fuck everything up and get myself hurt if I keep talking or entertaining the idea of any of this shit, right? So it's better if I just. Don't. And stop right where the fuck I am.

[None of that is an answer to his question. In a way, that is the answer to his question.

What can she say she knows about him? Nothing. Not a single person here knows a real damn thing about him, because that's how he keeps it, that's the only way he doesn't get himself hurt. It's better if he just doesn't. That's what he's learned after all this time.

So why does it feel so shitty, listening to Jolyne talk like it's all her fault? All her pain to avoid? Why does it sting, unexpectedly, not to hear her try to answer?

Maybe it's because he holds all the cards. Maybe it's because he owes her something, after all the ways she's looked out for him, complied with his need for darkness and secrecy. Maybe she at least deserves to know the shape of who he is--what it is she has some kind of who-the-fuck-knows feelings for.

Maybe he's a fool.]

I'm a thief, Jolyne.

[He says it quietly: a bare, simple confession.]

What happened there, in the Outlands... is how it's meant to go for people like me. ['This was bound to happen, mate.'] I know it wasn't you, that you wouldn't turn on me like that. I knew it wasn't you even then.

[With that, he exhales heavily and braces his hands on the window sill.]

It just made me realize I was letting my guard down.

[And that's not something he can do and survive.]

[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.

[W. Wait. Wh.]

...You knew I was a thief and you let me in your room?

[HE CAN ONLY HANDLE ONE THING AT A TIME, JESUS.]

[THERION, HONEY, YOU ARE THE MOST OBVIOUS THIEF.

And she's actually just staring at him and any frustration and bluster has died out into her actually laughing.

This is great.]

You are the fucking worst at hiding that shit, dude. Also tell me what I even have in here that's worth stealing.

[Therion: Makes his network username "tea leaf" like no one will know that's Cockney rhyming slang for thief
Therion: Tags along on Phantom Thief missions for the lolz
Therion: Constantly stealing miscellaneous items from fellow classmates
Therion: LIVING A LIFE OF CONSTANT SKETCHINESS
Anyone: So, you're a thief, right
Therion: nANI???

Great. Now it's his turn to feel flustered and emotional and exposed, clutching his scarf up over the entire lower half of his face.]

Wow. Thanks.

[X(((((]

It's the kind of thing that's easier to hide when you can leave.

[There, now that's two things she knows. He's a thief and he's trapped here.]

[This is the best right now and she's honestly glad that they've ended up here instead of... whatever the hell they were doing before.]

Yeah, well. Are you really going to complain when the food here is free and good and you don't have to pay for jack fucking shit? [She sure isn't. She's ate better here than she has anywhere else ever and not felt a second bad about it.]

You want to tell me any other shocking revelations or is that about all I'm getting?

Glad one of us is having fun.

[Now he's just sulking. Well, actually, the sulking's at least partially a cover for how off-balance he's been thrown; maybe these aren't shocking revelations to her, but he's having a time, okay?]

...Isn't that enough for one day? Not like there's that much more to know. Nothing you can't guess from context.

Don't have to sulk over it.

[It's better than her having an actual crisis, isn't it? Letting her have a moment to focus on something else and relax a little.

Especially when she's finally sitting again and just trying to beckon him.]

Come here a sec, wanna show you something. I'm done prying into your life's history for the day, promise.

[It's a struggle, because really he'd like to leave and go soothe his wounded pride and also freak out a little about someone knowing his occupation without him realizing, but eventually, he accedes.]

...Fine.

[He stops clinging to his scarf and slinks over, still wearing his grouchy face.]

[There's something about that grouchy face that amuses her far too much, which... gave her an idea, actually.

Hopefully she can get around a little issue here by playing him just right. Mostly by first trying to reach out to take his arm. Gentle touches, Jolyne.

Which she's fairly certain he won't let her do, but this is just the first step.]

[Yeah, no. Of course he pulls his arm away, that's just instinct, and now he's even more confused. He frowns, trying to read her intention off her face.]

What?

[Yep, that's what she thought he'd do. And she's absolutely frowning at him, maybe this will work...]

I just need your arm for a second, trust me for once. It's nothing bad.

[Whether it'd be good for him or not, letting his guard down isn't something that comes easily to Therion, especially when he's already out of sorts. Even with her assurances, it takes him a moment to decide.

In the end, though, he sighs through his nose and holds that arm she wanted out, palm-up, towards her.]

[Good.

Because she's a liar and just going to take his wrist gently in one hand and then absolutely turn shit around to try and get a quick cheek peck.

The second she does or doesn't get that is when she lets go and is up and moving again. Mostly to compose herself and unlock that door if he feels the need to flee. She's not sure why she's doing that, but something in her is telling her that she's probably pushed her luck far enough that a retreat would be necessary.]

[Therion's powers are finely tuned for dodging knives and punches. Not soft schoolyard kisses.

Jolyne disengages and he jumps back, hand up and over his face--not where her lips landed, but where the heat's rushing up to the surface. Turns out he's not too dark-skinned to blush.

He looks like he might say something, like he's trying to think of something to say, but he finally just clears his throat and makes his escape quick. Once he's safely out in the hall, he glances back, taking another breath like he'd like to get the last word in...

But then he just hides his whole face in his hand, too flustered even to speak, and hurries off.]

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Jolyne Cujoh, a liar

HOW WILL HE EVER TRUST AGAIN