She doesn't know if he does think that, if he's secure with the idea of being a warden who returned an inmate. She doesn't what the mindset is here for so many of the people who call the Barge home, if Tommy will be a target because of the power he once held.
She does know that she doesn't want to find out one day that he's in the infirmary going through a death toll when she had the power to stop that from happening.
"If I remember this place right," and he does, he's just said so, "I'll need one at some point."
He isn't sure what to think of this. He wants the weapon, he feels so uncomfortable without it, but he doesn't know what he thinks of her giving it to him.
He's not going to let it bother him, though. It'll get him what he wants, and that's what matters.
"That's why I'm offering." She says, and then- "I thought you might trust me more than anyone else about it coming without me expecting anything in return."
She needs that to be clear, to be sure that he knows it still.
He doesn't. Not because of her, but because everyone always expects something in return. His family expects money, or safety, or a chance to keep their lie from being boring; the people around him expect obedience, a puppet who will let himself be moved in the way that will benefit them the most.
Everyone always wants something. Even if she doesn't know it yet, she wants something in return.
But he does want this. This time, there's no protesting, no shyness about taking what he wants. So he just nods, not really answering her implied question. "Then yes. I want one."
She saved the things she got from the Admiral when they were getting ready for the the Land of the Dead, still has a blaster pistol tucked away- but she's not sure about giving him a gun. As much as she had loved and trusted the man he was before, he's made it more than clear that that isn't who he is now. As much as she wants him to be safe, she doesn't want it to be at the expense of someone else when a gun is so easy to use from a distance.
But there is one option. She stops in the middle of her forms, puts her staff on her back, and comes back closer to him as she digs into the satchel at her hip. When her hand comes out again there's a knife in it, wickedly curved and long enough to do some damage, and it's clearly been well used. It's still sharp, but when she holds it out to him handle first there are dents and chips out of the wood.
"If you use it on Alfie I'll break your nose when I take it back," she tells him, entirely serious.
He sits up a little straighter when she comes over with the weapon-- with that knife, which looks vicious, sharply curved and heavy.
He reaches out and wraps his hand around the hilt to feel the weight of it, and finds himself impressed, and faintly comforted. The idea that he can be dangerous again, like this, if he has to, that's worth something.
"If I use it on Alfie he'll have deserved it," he tells her, but he nods. He'll accept that punishment, at least.
She honestly can't argue that. She knows Alfie too well by now to try to deny it, and she doesn't nod in return but she does accept that. It's just something she'll have to try to keep an eye on, but she's never been one to nanny Alfie.
"It holds an edge well," she says, with a clear bit of pride in her voice. "You shouldn't need to sharpen it."
She didn't expect a thank you, not if she thinks of him as how she acted towards people when she first got here. Unlikely to take handouts, not wanting to admit they were needed. Knowing it helps is enough, it sets her mind a little at ease just to know he'll have something if he's attacked.
"If you think of anything else that does," she offers, and doesn't complete the thought. He'll know what she means and if she doesn't say it in completion it might be easier to swallow.
Once, she would have reached out to run her hand along the angle of his jaw when he looked up at her like that. There would have been a smile in his eyes, lightness in him.
Now, all she does is nod.
"We were friends once, Tommy. You can't be that surprised that I'd want to make sure you stay alive and at least a little comfortable. This place doesn't have to be torture."
There have been several women in his life who treated him like that: like he was precious to them, like he could be the man he is and they would still love him, his love would redeem him.
And then Tatiana had dug her nails in, had pushed him down and choked him, and given him something much closer to what he deserved. Death, and ecstasy.
He swallows thickly and goes to take another cigarette out of a silver case. "There's always something expected in return, Rey."
"And what is it you think I expect you to be able to give me?" She asks him before she can stop herself, because the arrogance in that is just too much to ignore.
Some of that does surprise her, but it doesn't show on her face.
"Maybe we should be very clear about that, get it settled once and for all." She says, looking right at him, gaze unflinching. "I don't think for a second that we'll go back to the way we were because you aren't that man anymore. I'm not blind and I'm not naive enough to think that if I just hope hard enough you'll wake up tomorrow and remember that you loved me."
"I remember that I loved you," he tells her, and pushes himself up-- he doesn't want to have this conversation, even if he suspects he got himself into it.
"No," she says, and she she puts her hand in the middle of his chest and pushes him back down, unwilling to just let him walk away from this.
"You've been walking right over everyone in your life, haven't you?"
It's all she can think of that would make brushing people aside this easy for him. He's lost the part of him that had compassion, replaced it with something selfish. She wonders if his family even gets a say now.
A part of her hopes, desperately, that Polly still stands up to him.
"If you start conversations like this, you'll finish them. No just walking away."
He falls back with a soft huff of breath, and he looks up at her with actual annoyance now-- he might have had a few drinks, drinks that hit him more heavily these days, and it's made him unbalanced.
"Fuck off, Rey. What do you want me to tell you, hey?"
"I don't want you to tell me anything," she says, hand still on his chest like she expects he's going to try to get up again. "You opened this door, Tommy, and we're having this out once and for all so that it's not hanging between us anymore. You don't get to choose when you're finished and expect people to be satisfied with that."
He looks up at her with tired, annoyed eyes, and wraps a strong hand around
her wrist- he doesn't appreciate that, being held down. And she's wrong:
that's what he does, all the time.
"You think it takes one good talk? To get rid of it all?"
She doesn't try to break out of his hold, not when it doesn't feel threatening or dangerous, but there is a small shift in her. She's a little more alert now, ready for whatever might be coming.
"I think it'll be a start," she corrects him. "I'd like to be able to talk to you without it turning into an argument at some point every time we talk."
"So talk," he tells her, firmly. He'd like to get out of this
as soon as he can, and if he can he'll avoid a real fight. He doesn't think
it'll work, but he can try. It's more bother than he feels like right now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Are you going to give me one?"
no subject
She doesn't know if he does think that, if he's secure with the idea of being a warden who returned an inmate. She doesn't what the mindset is here for so many of the people who call the Barge home, if Tommy will be a target because of the power he once held.
She does know that she doesn't want to find out one day that he's in the infirmary going through a death toll when she had the power to stop that from happening.
no subject
He isn't sure what to think of this. He wants the weapon, he feels so uncomfortable without it, but he doesn't know what he thinks of her giving it to him.
He's not going to let it bother him, though. It'll get him what he wants, and that's what matters.
no subject
She needs that to be clear, to be sure that he knows it still.
no subject
Everyone always wants something. Even if she doesn't know it yet, she wants something in return.
But he does want this. This time, there's no protesting, no shyness about taking what he wants. So he just nods, not really answering her implied question. "Then yes. I want one."
no subject
But there is one option. She stops in the middle of her forms, puts her staff on her back, and comes back closer to him as she digs into the satchel at her hip. When her hand comes out again there's a knife in it, wickedly curved and long enough to do some damage, and it's clearly been well used. It's still sharp, but when she holds it out to him handle first there are dents and chips out of the wood.
"If you use it on Alfie I'll break your nose when I take it back," she tells him, entirely serious.
no subject
He reaches out and wraps his hand around the hilt to feel the weight of it, and finds himself impressed, and faintly comforted. The idea that he can be dangerous again, like this, if he has to, that's worth something.
"If I use it on Alfie he'll have deserved it," he tells her, but he nods. He'll accept that punishment, at least.
no subject
"It holds an edge well," she says, with a clear bit of pride in her voice. "You shouldn't need to sharpen it."
no subject
"This helps," he says, gravely. No thank you, but for him, it's as good as.
no subject
"If you think of anything else that does," she offers, and doesn't complete the thought. He'll know what she means and if she doesn't say it in completion it might be easier to swallow.
no subject
no subject
Now, all she does is nod.
"We were friends once, Tommy. You can't be that surprised that I'd want to make sure you stay alive and at least a little comfortable. This place doesn't have to be torture."
no subject
And then Tatiana had dug her nails in, had pushed him down and choked him, and given him something much closer to what he deserved. Death, and ecstasy.
He swallows thickly and goes to take another cigarette out of a silver case. "There's always something expected in return, Rey."
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Maybe we should be very clear about that, get it settled once and for all." She says, looking right at him, gaze unflinching. "I don't think for a second that we'll go back to the way we were because you aren't that man anymore. I'm not blind and I'm not naive enough to think that if I just hope hard enough you'll wake up tomorrow and remember that you loved me."
no subject
"I remember that."
no subject
"No," she says, and she she puts her hand in the middle of his chest and pushes him back down, unwilling to just let him walk away from this.
"You've been walking right over everyone in your life, haven't you?"
It's all she can think of that would make brushing people aside this easy for him. He's lost the part of him that had compassion, replaced it with something selfish. She wonders if his family even gets a say now.
A part of her hopes, desperately, that Polly still stands up to him.
"If you start conversations like this, you'll finish them. No just walking away."
no subject
"Fuck off, Rey. What do you want me to tell you, hey?"
no subject
no subject
He looks up at her with tired, annoyed eyes, and wraps a strong hand around her wrist- he doesn't appreciate that, being held down. And she's wrong: that's what he does, all the time.
"You think it takes one good talk? To get rid of it all?"
no subject
"I think it'll be a start," she corrects him. "I'd like to be able to talk to you without it turning into an argument at some point every time we talk."
no subject
"So talk," he tells her, firmly. He'd like to get out of this as soon as he can, and if he can he'll avoid a real fight. He doesn't think it'll work, but he can try. It's more bother than he feels like right now.