Told you--this ain't what I do. If you wanna show people how to hunt squirrels or something, knock yourself out. [ He shrugs. ] Never said I was a saint, Kyna.
And I care because it's... heartless. This shit is probably our fault anyway. We're not in the fucking Aerie. This doesn't have to be everyone for themselves.
When's the world ever been anything else? Maybe reality's heartless, Ky. I didn't get these people killed, and I sure as hell ain't cleaning up after them now that they're wandering around New Amsterdam like a buncha lost puppies.
[Historically, this has always been Kyna's expectation of how this sort of thing goes—an argument ends with someone getting kicked out, probably never talking again. It wasn't that way in the Aerie, of course. She'd had plenty of fights with her friends, and that's all they ever were, just arguments that were sometimes solved later.
This feels different, though, and it's so unexpected, especially from Sam, that for a second she looks like she's been slapped. Maybe she was just stupid to expect anything else.]
You know what? I was wrong. You were the same in the Aerie.
[It's so much safer to bury herself in her old, angry defense mechanisms, isn't it? Just like it's easier to give him what he wants, turn on her heel, and head for the door.]
[ That, to her retreating back. She's the epitome of hate to see her leave, love to watch her go--except it's mostly the first half of that right now, along with the vague sensation that he might've screwed something up past the point of fixing.
(How the hell did it even get to this point? She could've taken no for an answer any time--it feels to him like it's her fault, even though some small part of him knows nah, Drake, you fucked up.)
He's up there for a while after, staring out at the overgrown city and stewing about things he doesn't actually want to think about in any real detail. It'll go the same way anything goes, he's figuring. Avoid her for a while, pretend everything's fine when they cross paths again, and it either will be or it won't.
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I'm not asking you to be a saint. I'm asking you to be decent. I'm asking you to try.
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And I do. When it's someone that matters.
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[Don't change the question on her!]
And I care because it's... heartless. This shit is probably our fault anyway. We're not in the fucking Aerie. This doesn't have to be everyone for themselves.
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When's the world ever been anything else? Maybe reality's heartless, Ky. I didn't get these people killed, and I sure as hell ain't cleaning up after them now that they're wandering around New Amsterdam like a buncha lost puppies.
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Do you realize what my job is back home, Sam? Don't talk to me like I'm naive.
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Fine. You know the way out.
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This feels different, though, and it's so unexpected, especially from Sam, that for a second she looks like she's been slapped. Maybe she was just stupid to expect anything else.]
You know what? I was wrong. You were the same in the Aerie.
[It's so much safer to bury herself in her old, angry defense mechanisms, isn't it? Just like it's easier to give him what he wants, turn on her heel, and head for the door.]
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[ That, to her retreating back. She's the epitome of hate to see her leave, love to watch her go--except it's mostly the first half of that right now, along with the vague sensation that he might've screwed something up past the point of fixing.
(How the hell did it even get to this point? She could've taken no for an answer any time--it feels to him like it's her fault, even though some small part of him knows nah, Drake, you fucked up.)
He's up there for a while after, staring out at the overgrown city and stewing about things he doesn't actually want to think about in any real detail. It'll go the same way anything goes, he's figuring. Avoid her for a while, pretend everything's fine when they cross paths again, and it either will be or it won't.
It's fine. That's just how things go.
Weird how it feels this bad, though. ]