"Weird calibration question that I need your help with, as my friend who can be honest with me. Did you really not know I was staying when I kind of... didn't leave for so long? Like I don't remember what I said, but it seem like I was about to go?"
"I'm so sorry. I was being a jackass. I have a bad habit of deciding not to think about things that stress me out, and I- forgot. That other people were hinging on me knowing what the fuck I was doing. Normally it's just me."
He says, and clears his throat.
"I'm really, really sorry. And I'm for sure staying. At least until it starts to feel unhealthy, and if it does I promise to talk about it well in advance of just vanishing. Unless the Admiral fires me, obviously."
The prospect of making more friends is one that scares him a little. Mary
Lou had always taught them that the state of semi-poverty they lived in was
good for them: it prevented complacency. The less they had, the less they
had to lose. And he hates to even think it, but that's proven itself true
here.
"I...don't," Credence says, then hurriedly: "Think I'm making good
choices, I mean. Or - I make a couple good choices, then a really bad
choice, and it feels like I'm not getting anywhere."
"...I know. I just...it doesn't seem to ever matter what I do? When Hux -
Shiro got kind of mad at me, and his warden, but my temporary assignment
didn't even say anything."
Proposing, with a shoving motion with his hand, nudging it aside.
"It fucks everything up. The only thing that matters about what you do is how it makes you feel, and I don't think of you as someone who likes hurting people. Who likes not feeling powerless, sure, but that's something different entirely."
But he doesn't ever feel that power unless he's using it to hurt someone,
he doesn't say, because it's a discussion he's had before and gotten
nowhere with. Instead, in an abrupt change of subject, he asks:
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magician_king) wrote2020-01-12 01:19 pm
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"Even a good person would want to kill him every day," Credence says, quietly, reaching for his hot chocolate so he can have some too. "But I won't."
In his capacity as a bad person. Because Quentin asked.
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Credence stares down into his mug.
"...I wasn't sure. I worried every day that you might go."
Guess how good for him that was.
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He says, and clears his throat.
"I'm really, really sorry. And I'm for sure staying. At least until it starts to feel unhealthy, and if it does I promise to talk about it well in advance of just vanishing. Unless the Admiral fires me, obviously."
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"...I worry about what I'll do if that happens. If you or Shiro disappear. I don't know that I'll want to - be in control."
He still really has no realistic outlet for anger or grief.
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He asks, because sometimes it's easier to imagine these things outside yourself.
"I'd be fucking- I'd be destroyed, I'd burn this boat down. What would you tell me I should do?"
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"I - I don't know. I'd want you to keep going. Or - go home, maybe, if you didn't want to be here any more."
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He's not sure if this makes sense, and not sure what he's driving at, exactly.
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"If I thought I knew how to do that I would have tried it," he points out, too quiet and anxious to be a joke.
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He agrees, expression softening.
"Yeah, I guess that's true. I guess I would want you to try to find someone to talk to? And- to eat three meals a day."
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The prospect of making more friends is one that scares him a little. Mary Lou had always taught them that the state of semi-poverty they lived in was good for them: it prevented complacency. The less they had, the less they had to lose. And he hates to even think it, but that's proven itself true here.
But he nods, regardless.
"I - I'd try."
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He says, and finds himself frowning.
"Do you think of this place as a place that works?"
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"...for some people," he suggests, cautiously. "It worked for you, right?"
After pretty disastrously not-working, but it came out okay in the end.
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Yeah.
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"Or like magic. It can make your life better or worse, it just - depends on the kind of person you are, I guess."
He's still unsure if he's the right kind of person, for this place.
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He agrees.
"I would like to think I'm making good choices. Learning to make good choices."
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"I...don't," Credence says, then hurriedly: "Think I'm making good choices, I mean. Or - I make a couple good choices, then a really bad choice, and it feels like I'm not getting anywhere."
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He wonders- probably some of the murdering he could do without.
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He shrugs, huddling in on himself a little.
"Avoiding people instead of talking to them. Killing them just because I'm angry."
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He suggests, helpfully.
"Just, if you keep doing it you're never going to learn alternative strategies."
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"...I know. I just...it doesn't seem to ever matter what I do? When Hux - Shiro got kind of mad at me, and his warden, but my temporary assignment didn't even say anything."
It's a perennial issue.
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Proposing, with a shoving motion with his hand, nudging it aside.
"It fucks everything up. The only thing that matters about what you do is how it makes you feel, and I don't think of you as someone who likes hurting people. Who likes not feeling powerless, sure, but that's something different entirely."
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But he doesn't ever feel that power unless he's using it to hurt someone, he doesn't say, because it's a discussion he's had before and gotten nowhere with. Instead, in an abrupt change of subject, he asks:
"You're friends will Cipher, aren't you?"
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He admits, because;
"He does math like I do. Have you two ever- I mean. Is he still shitty or did he ever muster a reasonable apology?"
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"Not really. I don't care, I just - can you ask him to stop stealing from the maintenance room, please?"
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