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[It's exactly what she needs him to do, but her breathing hitches and her vision blurs when he pulls her close. She hasn't really talked to anyone about this who wasn't there, minus Ian, and somehow that's different. There's still a little part of her that's always afraid she'll get a negative reaction opening up like this, so Sam's arm around her feels like a sort of acceptance, and it makes her heart twist.
It's not even grief, really. She'd given up on her father a long time ago. It's confirmation that he was always everything she thought he was, and the knowledge that her stubbornness hurt someone she cares about so much. Guilt and a sort of shame, all tangled up. She really, really does not want to cry all over him, but she thinks she's going to, and so she buries her face in his shoulder, voice shaky.]
Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm fine.
[Totally fine.]
It's not even grief, really. She'd given up on her father a long time ago. It's confirmation that he was always everything she thought he was, and the knowledge that her stubbornness hurt someone she cares about so much. Guilt and a sort of shame, all tangled up. She really, really does not want to cry all over him, but she thinks she's going to, and so she buries her face in his shoulder, voice shaky.]
Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm fine.
[Totally fine.]
I coulda told you that.
[ Now's clearly the time to tell her she's hot, right? Look, there's a reason he's a thief and not a therapist.
But maybe it'll be all right. She'll curl up and maybe cry, and he'll just be careful not to brush her skin, and--hell, he's already screwed that up, and now she'll feel a sort of amorphous worry. But no real judgment, just the inevitable combination of Kyna's so pretty and Kyna's so sad.
He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't really try to say anything. He just tries to keep her close (and tries not to get her skin again). ]
[ Now's clearly the time to tell her she's hot, right? Look, there's a reason he's a thief and not a therapist.
But maybe it'll be all right. She'll curl up and maybe cry, and he'll just be careful not to brush her skin, and--hell, he's already screwed that up, and now she'll feel a sort of amorphous worry. But no real judgment, just the inevitable combination of Kyna's so pretty and Kyna's so sad.
He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't really try to say anything. He just tries to keep her close (and tries not to get her skin again). ]
[Maybe most other people would consider it crass, but it gets a choked, ragged laugh out of her, almost a sob.]
Shut up.
[It comes out muffled but with no real heat, and his joke is enough of an anchor for her to get her emotions mostly under control. So, while her breathing is still trembling and her throat is still aching with that urge to cry, she manages to keep herself from breaking down and sobbing.
She feels bad about that brush of concern from him, though, and so she presses her arm intentionally into his. He gets lingering guilt, sure, but also a rush of gratitude and affection. It's easier for her to show him than explain it, especially while she's still getting his shirt all damp with quiet tears.]
Shut up.
[It comes out muffled but with no real heat, and his joke is enough of an anchor for her to get her emotions mostly under control. So, while her breathing is still trembling and her throat is still aching with that urge to cry, she manages to keep herself from breaking down and sobbing.
She feels bad about that brush of concern from him, though, and so she presses her arm intentionally into his. He gets lingering guilt, sure, but also a rush of gratitude and affection. It's easier for her to show him than explain it, especially while she's still getting his shirt all damp with quiet tears.]
[ It's not even remotely the same thing, but he used to play D&D with Dusty and a few other guys in high school, then a little bit in college. The association he's got going on in his head is sort of like a lich, which is undoubtedly inaccurate. Still, that's what he's thinking through this whole story. ]
Is Sam okay?
[ Seems like the logical question to ask. ]
Is Sam okay?
[ Seems like the logical question to ask. ]
[ Sam doesn't laugh, but he does breathe out, a sort of relieved sigh and quiet snort--if she's laughing, at least she's not crying. Or not crying as hard, anyway.
He doesn't know what to do with what comes through her skin, though. It's all at once, that insistent sense of appreciation, and it spooks him more than hearing about the way her dad bit the dust. ]
Kyna--
[ But for once, he doesn't know what to say after that. After a moment or two of uncertainty and fondness mixed up together, he moves his arm away from hers again. Still holding her close, but more carefully now. ]
He doesn't know what to do with what comes through her skin, though. It's all at once, that insistent sense of appreciation, and it spooks him more than hearing about the way her dad bit the dust. ]
Kyna--
[ But for once, he doesn't know what to say after that. After a moment or two of uncertainty and fondness mixed up together, he moves his arm away from hers again. Still holding her close, but more carefully now. ]
[At least he knows, which is all she wanted. For a split second when he breaks contact, she's afraid she did something wrong, but he doesn't pull away, so maybe it's fine. It's probably fine, right?
Kyna shifts, head turning so that her cheek is resting on his shoulder instead.]
Sorry.
[Her voice is still unsteady, but she's getting herself under control now.]
I totally dumped on you.
Kyna shifts, head turning so that her cheek is resting on his shoulder instead.]
Sorry.
[Her voice is still unsteady, but she's getting herself under control now.]
I totally dumped on you.
Nah.
[ The only thing she's done wrong is remind him that he's sitting here with her, out of his depth, a weird ache in his chest when he thinks about that sadness and shame and affection coming from her. So he tries not to think about it, or about reaching up and running his hand through her hair. ]
I, uh, I asked, right?
[ The only thing she's done wrong is remind him that he's sitting here with her, out of his depth, a weird ache in his chest when he thinks about that sadness and shame and affection coming from her. So he tries not to think about it, or about reaching up and running his hand through her hair. ]
I, uh, I asked, right?
[ He pretends he doesn't notice her swiping at the tears in her eyes, the same way he's pretending one patch of his shirt's significantly wetter than the rest of it. At least this part is easy, his feelings masked somewhere under his skin, safe from observation. ]
Course not. A fuckup would've skipped town.
Course not. A fuckup would've skipped town.
Doesn't count.
[ If this is the worst she's ever done, then hell, by Sam's standards, she's still in the running for Time's Person of the Year award.
He's still struggling to say something helpful, so he defaults to the kind of pep talk he'd be inclined to give his brother. ]
You solved the problem. Didn't all go your way, but, eh--[ a shrug: when does it ever? ] It, uh, sucks about your dad, but it sounds like he walked into that one.
[ If this is the worst she's ever done, then hell, by Sam's standards, she's still in the running for Time's Person of the Year award.
He's still struggling to say something helpful, so he defaults to the kind of pep talk he'd be inclined to give his brother. ]
You solved the problem. Didn't all go your way, but, eh--[ a shrug: when does it ever? ] It, uh, sucks about your dad, but it sounds like he walked into that one.
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