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[evocation]

@kyna.medina | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[withmeinparadise]

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?

[evocation]

I guess so, yeah.

[She breathes out, reaching up to wipe her eyes in what she hopes is a surreptitious way, though she doesn't pull back.]

Do you think I'm a total fuck up?

[withmeinparadise]

[ 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.

[evocation]

[She laughs a little, quiet and fragile.]

I sort of did. Just... you know. Not on purpose.

[withmeinparadise]

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.

[evocation]

It's not...

[She pauses, nose wrinkling, wondering how awful this is going to sound.]

It's not really my dad, it's more... Everything else.

[withmeinparadise]

[ To Sam, who'd be conflicted about pissing on his father if he were on fire, it seems like a value-neutral statement. ]

Your friend?

[ Your brother, he doesn't say. ]

[evocation]

Yeah.

[And while he doesn't say it, it's still hanging there between them, so she does.]

And my brother was... really upset.

[withmeinparadise]

[ Well, someone had to voice the thought. He gives her a little squeeze. ]

Since you didn't let the cops handle it.

[evocation]

Yeah. And he is a cop, so...

[So, you know, salt in the wound or whatever.]

[withmeinparadise]

Yeah.

[ He doesn't have anything to add except shit like how the hell do you live with having a cop in the family?, and the answer is that Kyna hasn't spent her life in and out of jail, obviously. Or the other option, my brother's pissed at me, too, and there's no way in hell he's spilling that.

So he sits there in silence for a second or two, Kyna's cheek against his shoulder, and tells himself that he's not actually stuck on how nice this is. When he does speak, he clears his throat a little first. ]

Well, uh. You feel any better?

[evocation]

[Kyna swallows, nods a bit against his shoulder, but doesn't pull away. She's not afraid to admit to herself that this is nice—this sort of physical contact is what she's made for. The empathy bond makes it more complicated here, and so she doesn't get it as much.]

Yeah. Um, thanks. You're better at this than I thought, you know.

[withmeinparadise]

[ He laughs a little, but there's a little relief underpinning it. ]

You think so?

[evocation]

[Kyna smiles despite herself, reaching down to poke him gently in the side.]

Yeah, you are. You listened and you didn't... you know. I'm always afraid people will get... judge-y when I tell them stuff like this.

[withmeinparadise]

Eh. Can't exactly throw stones when it comes to this kinda stuff.

[ Not the magic, obviously, but working outside the law? Doing things that pisses off family? Getting people killed? It's familiar, that's all.

And then, in hopes of heading off questions from her, he adds-- ]

Long story.

[evocation]

Yeah?

[Kyna pulls back a bit.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[withmeinparadise]

Longer'n we have time for.

[ There're things he can make into fun stories, but I might've killed my brother, and I definitely fucked him over isn't currently one. But Kyna's looking at him, waiting, and even he's only known her a month or two, that's long enough to know she's not going to let it go. The best plan he can think of, in the moment, is offering her a different tale. ]

Y'know I almost got picked up for murder when I was seventeen? Not a murder I did. Wasn't even a real murder, just...y'know, a real inconvenient death.

[evocation]

[Yeah, that's not a subtle change of topic, but she lets it go. For now, anyway.]

Wait, what? How?

[withmeinparadise]

[ Mission accomplished. ]

Me and Nathan, we kinda broke into an old lady's mansion.

[evocation]

Did you give her a heart attack or something?

[withmeinparadise]

Not right away? We had a conversation first. [ And with a puff of a laugh: ] She nearly shot me.

[evocation]

You totally deserved it.

[Look, she loves Sam, BUT.]

How the fuck did she die?

[withmeinparadise]

Maybe a heart attack? She was sick. [ Thinking of that makes his ribcage tighten a little. ] We didn't exactly stick around--the cops were already showing up when she, uh. Y'know.

[ A very vague gesture with his free hand, one which clearly means "seized up and died in front of us." ]

[evocation]

Jesus Christ. Why did you break in?

[withmeinparadise]

She had something that belonged to us. [ Despite himself, there's a tiny edge of defensiveness to his voice. He never would've cased the place, let along broken in, if not for that. ] Had to get it back.