He's knocking on her door in short order-- having avoided mostly everyone with his weird anxiety and guilt. He honestly does look a little nervous around the edges, but he has no idea if she's affected as well. Maybe the flood hit her later than it did him.
It doesn't take her too long to open the door and let him in, partly because she knew he was on his way but mostly because she doesn't want to be outside around people so she doubts he likes it any either.
Because she hadn't intended to go anywhere outside her own room at all day, Rey is dressed for exactly that. There are no wraps around her arms, the linen gauze that usually crosses her chest is absent, even her hair is down, creased into waves from being up in three buns more often than not. Her weapons are missing too, the lightsaber hidden away and her staff resting just inside the doorway just in case she should need it, and the overall effect is that she looks less severe than she normally does.
There's a bleakness to her face that keeps her from looking soft, though. She's worn down, not because of what happened in the Enclosure but because of everything else, because of weeks of things going wrong, and when she looks up at Tommy she doesn't smile, but her eyes are gentle enough that that counts to her. It's an attempt, at least, and it last until she sees how rough he looks.
"It's a good thing I took some alcohol from the bar," she says, a little absent and a little concerned all at once. "It's on the chess table, you can help yourself."
She doesn't intend to drink it, after all. When he goes to look, though, he'll find the bottle and a glass aren't the only thing there. There's the bowcaster, the weapon she had drawn for him, waiting there too.
He doesn't think he's ever seen her with her hair down, and combined with
the change in her usual clothing he's taken aback for a second. Only a
second, though: because he sees that look on her face, sees the exhaustion,
the wariness.
It would be enough to make him turn around, if he hadn't been set on going
to tell her. He's here now.
He lightly clears his throat and nods, going over to the table to pour
himself a dirnk-- he's never turned one down, and he isn't planning on
starting now. But his eyes fall on the bowcaster before he can even get to
the bottle, and he turns back around to look at her. "You got it."
"Apparently wardens are supposed to ask for their own weapons, so you didn't get that from me."
She's glad she had thought to put it out now, give it to him now, because he looks like he can't believe it and it feels nice to do something for someone. He looks upset, so if this is something that can alleviate that even for a moment she's glad she did it.
In a space this small, it's even more obvious how she's feeling-- upset
first, nervous and tired, but now she's a little glad about something. He
rubs a hand over his mouth and leaves the bowcaster for a second-- he can
try it out later, get this off his chest first.
And now he can add surprise to that, because it's something she didn't expect them to talk about again. She wants to tell him that, that he doesn't have to say anything, doesn't have to explain, but it's obvious he needs to.
So she nods, moves to sit down on the couch that curves around the holochess table, and lets him go at his own pace just like she had in the Enclosure when he was telling his story about the war.
He doesn't sit down, just stands by the table, one hand resting on it as he
tries to find the words-- but what the fuck can you say? I got magical
mind-reading powers right before I had a mental breakdown and you held me
through it?
He makes a frustrated little sound at himself, shakes his head. "I didn't
realize it then, but the flood hit right before the black-out."
At first, she can't make sense of what he's trying to say. She knew the flood had started that day, but because she hadn't been going through it herself the exact starting point had been something she hadn't even considered. But when she thinks back, she can pinpoint it almost perfectly.
He'd asked her if she felt something. He had, and she hadn't. She hadn't even been thinking about anything beyond the lights going out and the walls closing in and then after that, all she had thought about was looking after Tommy.
And once she reconciles that, the rest falls into place quickly. There's no way for her to know which powers he picked up, but she knows mind reading is common.
"Oh," she says, and for the moment that's all she's got.
He lets out a shaky breath, curls his hand before rapping his knuckles on
the chessboard. "Right," he says, interpreting her shock, her silence as
disapproval. She has a right to know, but she has a right to be alone now
as wel. He knows it's invasive, and he tries very hard not to invade her
privacy but he can't help that he can feel what she's feeling.
It's that worry over her that makes something inside him reach out again,
to soothe the worry before it can spike too fast. He isn't quite aware he's
doing it, and it's undirected, a small patch over whatever's bubbling up.
"I can leave," he starts, already moving to turn away.
He doesn't get far. She reaches for him to stop him, hand curling around his wrist to keep him from doing that, from leaving before she's ready for this to be done. She might deserve her privacy, but she won't be able to relax until she knows exactly how much he picked up.
"Not yet. I'm not- You didn't know, you said. I can't really hold something you didn't know what was happening against you."
It's not sitting well, it's going to take some time to sort through, but she isn't angry. She's not hurt, doesn't consider it an invasion when he didn't mean to. When he's clearly struggling with it now. She realizes after a moment she's still holding onto him, so she lets go and puts her hand safely in her lap.
His eyes widen a little when she grasps his wrist, and he looks down at it
before he looks back at her. Her emotions move fluidly from one to the
other, her thoughts not tumbling so much as crashing into the next roll of
waves. She's high-strung and he can feel it, now, and it's like an echo of
his own continuous stress.
He listens to her, too, through everything she's feeling, and sits
down a few seats away from her. He can't be too close right now.
"It wasn't a lot," he says, needing her to know. "Just-- echoes."
It means a lot to her that he stays, that he went to all this trouble to tell her so soon. If he had left it, never told her, there might have been no repairing the damage that would have done, and her stomach drops a little when she thinks of that.
Echoes, he says, and she frowns in concentration as she thinks of what those echoes would have been in the Enclosure. Good things, she thinks. Concern and caring. Nothing he hadn't shown her when he had led her back to his room and away from a confrontation with Kylo Ren.
"I wouldn't have done anything differently if I had known you could... feel what I did," she says, the words a little spaced out while she tries to put her feelings now into an order that makes sense. "Or hear what I thought, or whatever happened. So I guess it just becomes a question of whether or not you're angry about it."
About her compassion, about how deeply she'd come to care for him, about how accepting she is of that. That part surprises even her, so she won't be entirely shocked if it something he doesn't like.
He pulls in a breath as he tries to sort it all out. He's careful with everyone, because it pays to do so, but he wants to be careful here especially. So he's slow to reply, as he picks through whatever she's feeling.
"I'm not angry," he starts of with, going to rest both his hands on his knees, for lack of anywhere else to put them. "You were... kinder than I expected. Than I would have expected from anyone."
"Whatever is happening now, the powers everyone is getting, I never did. I can't- pick up on anything. I guess it misses some people."
It seems important that he knows that, that he knows his privacy is still his. The fact that hers isn't doesn't sit well with her and that may never change, but it's like an itch that she can't scratch more than any ripping, gnawing pain. Something she can handle, because what exactly is the alternative here?
"What you heard from me," she glances over at him as she starts up again, concerned and a little self-conscious because she knows the level of affection that was there, she remembers the feeling of his stubble on her lips, but she looks at him and doesn't flinch away from any of it. "If it bothered you, I need to know."
Being mad and being uncomfortable with it are two different things.
He feels relief at that, and he knows it's unfair-- but it's good that there's someone on the ship he can think around and not have to worry they'll know every little detail about his life.
(But if he thinks a little closer on it, he'll find that he wouldn't mind as much. Not when it's her. But that's something for later.)
He shakes his head immediately, through the unpacking of her concern and lingering affection. "It didn't bother me. I just- don't understand."
It doesn't seem that complicated to Rey, but maybe that's why it's so confusing for Tommy.
"I don't really know if I can explain it," she admits, and that's a little terrifying and comforting all at once, somehow. "I just... there aren't many people I care about, and you're my friend. I couldn't just sit there."
That sounds kind of horrible, considering the context, but it only takes one glance to see that isn't how he means it to be taken. He isn't accusing her of anything, and she actually has a reason. Something she hasn't really let herself think of much since they left the Enclosure.
"I didn't think I could do something like that," she says softly, but now she's looking at the table, not at him. This is hard to admit. "For so long the only person I ever had to care about was me. I was the only person I could take care of because if I didn't, I would die. When I first got here I had to force myself to put my hand on someone's shoulder when they were upset, I assumed that was as far as I'd ever make it. I didn't think it was possible for me to..."
Trust that much. Care enough to fight tooth and nail against a better nature that had been in place since she was five years old.
He makes a soft, uncertain sound- and suddenly she might imagine the way he'd looked when he'd calmed down, in the Enclosure, had they been able to see one another. He looks a little lost, unsure of himself in a way Tommy Shelby almost never is.
He honestly doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how he became the man who did that for her, who she cares enough for now to change that instinct.
Even now she wants to do something to help him, but he had sat down so far away that she has to believe he had done it on purpose so reaching out for him now would probably not be welcome.
She reaches for the bottle whiskey instead, for his glass, and fills that up for him and places it in front of him. That's something, helpful but not intrusive, and it has to be enough for now.
It breaks the tension a little, at least, and he huffs a soft laugh as he
looks at the glass. He doesn't reach out for it just yet, though.
"I don't know what I did that you want to be there for me-- like that," he
says, slowly. "But... thank you." That seems to be the right reaction,
right?
That's a start at least, that little laugh, and it lifts Rey's spirits a little as well. When he thanks her its easier to nod than say it's not necessary and invalidate him saying it, but it does seem like a weird thing to accept.
Thank you for not being cold? Thank you for fighting through years of selfishness to support him when she had no idea what she was doing? There's nothing negative to what she's feeling now, just a lot of lingering uncertainty.
"I don't think it was any one thing, Tommy. Over time you became my friend." She can't say for sure if she would have done that for just anyone, but there are a few people who would make the list. "And... You would have done the same for me. You did, once."
"Thank you for telling me that," she says at once, because now she realizes she hadn't actually done that yet. That can't stand, not when it means everything to her.
There's still a lot of space between them, she really had intended to leave it there, respect that, but- she has to slide closer, not right next to him but closer on the couch so she can put her hand over his where it's been pressing into his knee.
"As far as I'm concerned, everything is okay between us."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
Because she hadn't intended to go anywhere outside her own room at all day, Rey is dressed for exactly that. There are no wraps around her arms, the linen gauze that usually crosses her chest is absent, even her hair is down, creased into waves from being up in three buns more often than not. Her weapons are missing too, the lightsaber hidden away and her staff resting just inside the doorway just in case she should need it, and the overall effect is that she looks less severe than she normally does.
There's a bleakness to her face that keeps her from looking soft, though. She's worn down, not because of what happened in the Enclosure but because of everything else, because of weeks of things going wrong, and when she looks up at Tommy she doesn't smile, but her eyes are gentle enough that that counts to her. It's an attempt, at least, and it last until she sees how rough he looks.
"It's a good thing I took some alcohol from the bar," she says, a little absent and a little concerned all at once. "It's on the chess table, you can help yourself."
She doesn't intend to drink it, after all. When he goes to look, though, he'll find the bottle and a glass aren't the only thing there. There's the bowcaster, the weapon she had drawn for him, waiting there too.
no subject
He doesn't think he's ever seen her with her hair down, and combined with the change in her usual clothing he's taken aback for a second. Only a second, though: because he sees that look on her face, sees the exhaustion, the wariness.
It would be enough to make him turn around, if he hadn't been set on going to tell her. He's here now.
He lightly clears his throat and nods, going over to the table to pour himself a dirnk-- he's never turned one down, and he isn't planning on starting now. But his eyes fall on the bowcaster before he can even get to the bottle, and he turns back around to look at her. "You got it."
no subject
She's glad she had thought to put it out now, give it to him now, because he looks like he can't believe it and it feels nice to do something for someone. He looks upset, so if this is something that can alleviate that even for a moment she's glad she did it.
no subject
In a space this small, it's even more obvious how she's feeling-- upset first, nervous and tired, but now she's a little glad about something. He rubs a hand over his mouth and leaves the bowcaster for a second-- he can try it out later, get this off his chest first.
"About yesterday," he starts, then stops.
no subject
So she nods, moves to sit down on the couch that curves around the holochess table, and lets him go at his own pace just like she had in the Enclosure when he was telling his story about the war.
no subject
He doesn't sit down, just stands by the table, one hand resting on it as he tries to find the words-- but what the fuck can you say? I got magical mind-reading powers right before I had a mental breakdown and you held me through it?
He makes a frustrated little sound at himself, shakes his head. "I didn't realize it then, but the flood hit right before the black-out."
no subject
He'd asked her if she felt something. He had, and she hadn't. She hadn't even been thinking about anything beyond the lights going out and the walls closing in and then after that, all she had thought about was looking after Tommy.
And once she reconciles that, the rest falls into place quickly. There's no way for her to know which powers he picked up, but she knows mind reading is common.
"Oh," she says, and for the moment that's all she's got.
no subject
He lets out a shaky breath, curls his hand before rapping his knuckles on the chessboard. "Right," he says, interpreting her shock, her silence as disapproval. She has a right to know, but she has a right to be alone now as wel. He knows it's invasive, and he tries very hard not to invade her privacy but he can't help that he can feel what she's feeling.
It's that worry over her that makes something inside him reach out again, to soothe the worry before it can spike too fast. He isn't quite aware he's doing it, and it's undirected, a small patch over whatever's bubbling up.
"I can leave," he starts, already moving to turn away.
no subject
"Not yet. I'm not- You didn't know, you said. I can't really hold something you didn't know what was happening against you."
It's not sitting well, it's going to take some time to sort through, but she isn't angry. She's not hurt, doesn't consider it an invasion when he didn't mean to. When he's clearly struggling with it now. She realizes after a moment she's still holding onto him, so she lets go and puts her hand safely in her lap.
"Will you sit down?"
no subject
His eyes widen a little when she grasps his wrist, and he looks down at it before he looks back at her. Her emotions move fluidly from one to the other, her thoughts not tumbling so much as crashing into the next roll of waves. She's high-strung and he can feel it, now, and it's like an echo of his own continuous stress.
He listens to her, too, through everything she's feeling, and sits down a few seats away from her. He can't be too close right now.
"It wasn't a lot," he says, needing her to know. "Just-- echoes."
no subject
Echoes, he says, and she frowns in concentration as she thinks of what those echoes would have been in the Enclosure. Good things, she thinks. Concern and caring. Nothing he hadn't shown her when he had led her back to his room and away from a confrontation with Kylo Ren.
"I wouldn't have done anything differently if I had known you could... feel what I did," she says, the words a little spaced out while she tries to put her feelings now into an order that makes sense. "Or hear what I thought, or whatever happened. So I guess it just becomes a question of whether or not you're angry about it."
About her compassion, about how deeply she'd come to care for him, about how accepting she is of that. That part surprises even her, so she won't be entirely shocked if it something he doesn't like.
no subject
"I'm not angry," he starts of with, going to rest both his hands on his knees, for lack of anywhere else to put them. "You were... kinder than I expected. Than I would have expected from anyone."
no subject
It seems important that he knows that, that he knows his privacy is still his. The fact that hers isn't doesn't sit well with her and that may never change, but it's like an itch that she can't scratch more than any ripping, gnawing pain. Something she can handle, because what exactly is the alternative here?
"What you heard from me," she glances over at him as she starts up again, concerned and a little self-conscious because she knows the level of affection that was there, she remembers the feeling of his stubble on her lips, but she looks at him and doesn't flinch away from any of it. "If it bothered you, I need to know."
Being mad and being uncomfortable with it are two different things.
no subject
(But if he thinks a little closer on it, he'll find that he wouldn't mind as much. Not when it's her. But that's something for later.)
He shakes his head immediately, through the unpacking of her concern and lingering affection. "It didn't bother me. I just- don't understand."
no subject
"I don't really know if I can explain it," she admits, and that's a little terrifying and comforting all at once, somehow. "I just... there aren't many people I care about, and you're my friend. I couldn't just sit there."
no subject
no subject
"I didn't think I could do something like that," she says softly, but now she's looking at the table, not at him. This is hard to admit. "For so long the only person I ever had to care about was me. I was the only person I could take care of because if I didn't, I would die. When I first got here I had to force myself to put my hand on someone's shoulder when they were upset, I assumed that was as far as I'd ever make it. I didn't think it was possible for me to..."
Trust that much. Care enough to fight tooth and nail against a better nature that had been in place since she was five years old.
no subject
He makes a soft, uncertain sound- and suddenly she might imagine the way he'd looked when he'd calmed down, in the Enclosure, had they been able to see one another. He looks a little lost, unsure of himself in a way Tommy Shelby almost never is.
He honestly doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how he became the man who did that for her, who she cares enough for now to change that instinct.
no subject
She reaches for the bottle whiskey instead, for his glass, and fills that up for him and places it in front of him. That's something, helpful but not intrusive, and it has to be enough for now.
no subject
It breaks the tension a little, at least, and he huffs a soft laugh as he looks at the glass. He doesn't reach out for it just yet, though.
"I don't know what I did that you want to be there for me-- like that," he says, slowly. "But... thank you." That seems to be the right reaction, right?
no subject
Thank you for not being cold? Thank you for fighting through years of selfishness to support him when she had no idea what she was doing? There's nothing negative to what she's feeling now, just a lot of lingering uncertainty.
"I don't think it was any one thing, Tommy. Over time you became my friend." She can't say for sure if she would have done that for just anyone, but there are a few people who would make the list. "And... You would have done the same for me. You did, once."
When she ran from Kylo Ren.
no subject
"You helped," he says, firmly, wanting her to know that for sure, again. "And- you know now. That I felt those things."
So they're good?
no subject
There's still a lot of space between them, she really had intended to leave it there, respect that, but- she has to slide closer, not right next to him but closer on the couch so she can put her hand over his where it's been pressing into his knee.
"As far as I'm concerned, everything is okay between us."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)