[ The fact that she doesn't back down from things, even when he'd really like her to, is one of the things about Kyna that he likes. But goddamn, does he want her to back off of this one. There's a brief pause, Sam looking at his glass like he's thinking of filling it again, and then-- ]
Let's talk about something else. Or do something else, I don't care.
[ Anything but having to say Thanks, you're right, it sucked. He's tempted to leave--she got her woes off her chest, they did what he came here to do. It's mostly pride that keeps him from getting up and stalking off. ]
[She knows, too, that pushing usually only makes it worse, when people try it with her at least. She hesitates for a second, then leans forward to hug him impulsively.]
Thanks for telling me. And thanks for listening to my crap.
[ He lets her hug him; after a moment or two, he puts an arm around her as well and pats her back awkwardly. It feels like an admission of guilt, somehow.
Sam likes Kyna--likes her an embarrassing amount--but that doesn't change the fact that he'd rather pull his own teeth out than talk about the rough patches in his life like they were rough patches, rather than entertaining stories in retrospect. ]
[ There are things he could tell her. He's got a few stories about Blackbeard she'd laugh at, could tell her about running all over the place with Nathan back when they were kids. But now all he can think of is how old stories'll threaten to turn into more like the prison break: Kyna looking at him like she feels sorry for him, asking if he's talked to anyone.
So he starts getting up instead, leaving his glass next to the bottle. ]
Should probably get going. I, uh--this was fun. Sorta. [ One corner of his mouth tugs up, a half-assed attempt at his usual crooked grin. ] See you around, yeah?
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[ with a slight edge to his voice, like he's ready to get real defensive, real fast, if he has to. ]
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[There's no need to get defensive. Kyna's voice is soft, and the only thing in her expression is empathy.]
I'm sorry. That's... Have you ever talked to anyone about this before?
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[ Who else would he tell? Talking about it to her's making him strangely uneasy as it is, that edginess still present in him. ]
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You know, that's exactly what I'd say to someone if I didn't want to talk about how I felt.
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Because it usually ends up helping me once I suck up how scared I am.
[She nudges him again gently, trying to lighten the mood a bit.]
Look, I'm just saying... That shit is awful. I'm sorry you had to deal with it, you know?
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Let's talk about something else. Or do something else, I don't care.
[ Anything but having to say Thanks, you're right, it sucked. He's tempted to leave--she got her woes off her chest, they did what he came here to do. It's mostly pride that keeps him from getting up and stalking off. ]
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Okay.
[She knows, too, that pushing usually only makes it worse, when people try it with her at least. She hesitates for a second, then leans forward to hug him impulsively.]
Thanks for telling me. And thanks for listening to my crap.
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Sam likes Kyna--likes her an embarrassing amount--but that doesn't change the fact that he'd rather pull his own teeth out than talk about the rough patches in his life like they were rough patches, rather than entertaining stories in retrospect. ]
Your crap's always welcome around here.
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[She says it lightly as she pulls back.]
We can talk about whatever you want. Promise.
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[ There are things he could tell her. He's got a few stories about Blackbeard she'd laugh at, could tell her about running all over the place with Nathan back when they were kids. But now all he can think of is how old stories'll threaten to turn into more like the prison break: Kyna looking at him like she feels sorry for him, asking if he's talked to anyone.
So he starts getting up instead, leaving his glass next to the bottle. ]
Should probably get going. I, uh--this was fun. Sorta. [ One corner of his mouth tugs up, a half-assed attempt at his usual crooked grin. ] See you around, yeah?