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[wont]

— » 003 » 005 QUARTERS | THIRD LEVEL SEAMSTRESS | FIFTH LEVEL PETYR'S LIBARY | FIFTH LEVEL DEVICE, IN-PERSON, BY RAVEN

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[wont]

[ In truth, Alayne does not expect Tommy to accept the offer of assistance. He is a grown man, a warrior of sorts by his own admission and rough about the edges (and unapologetic of that fact). And yet, somehow, he allows her to provide what meager portion of help she can offer. Her eyebrows lifts in genuine surprise before quieting down again, her expression smoothing.

As he steps out of the way, she fills the space left empty with both herself and her skirts. A quick re-estimation of the coolbox's contents later, Alayne is straightening again, another unmarked container held between her hands. She looks at Tommy over the held-open door for a moment before offering it to him. ]

We are all 'fine', then, when measured by such meager estimations. Just as there are degrees between bad and worse, there those that exist between fine and good.

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[grndnpnd]

[ Left to his own devices, Tommy will eat just about anything. He's mostly kept to his diet -- as much as possible in the circumstances -- more because the routine is reassuring and it gives him something to think about when he doesn't want to think about other things than because he actually cares.

When he takes the box from Alayne, he gives the contents a quick check and then nods his head in a half-thank you and half-acknowledgement that her choice works for him. He takes a step back to try to find something other than his fingers to eat with (and that, honestly, is just because she's there watching). ]

Yeah, well. When you've been worse, better than worse feels like fine. [ He looks down sullenly at his feet. ]

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[wont]

[ When Tommy withdraws, she does as well, stepping back to shut the door upon the cold and to stop the swirling eddies about her feet. As he goes about looking for a utensil now, Alayne does not try to hide her gaze as she studies him openly, as if it were somehow possible for her to guess just the limits of how bad 'worse' had been for him.

It is a useless exercise, ultimately, because where Tommy is wholly readable in certain places, he is closed off and distant in others. Perhaps the answer lay in the words exchanged until now, but they over no help upon second perusal. Had it been the war that raged through Tommy's world? Or perhaps he had had a parent — a mother or a father — who'd pretended too well.

Regardless, Alayne knows that Tommy is write. Absently she wonders what this says about her, what truth that would reveal about herself upon reflection. But she abandons those thoughts before they see themselves all the way through.

Folding her hands in front of her, she waits until he has foraged himself a fork to ask: ] Are we friends, Tommy? You and I.

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[grndnpnd]

[ He finds a kind of fork not long after he starts looking -- only so many drawers to sift through and cutlery's still sort of where he expects it, even here in the future -- and digs in. A moment later, he's glad he did because it gives him something to furrow his eyebrows at when she asks her question.

His gut's first impulse is that he hasn't had a friend since Manny died. It's his gut's second impulse too, actually, a one-two punch that makes his jaw tighten and the food he's eating suddenly that much less appealing. His third impulse, though, is that maybe that ain't so true anymore. Tyke and Jenna and Dean and Jim. And Alayne. There are people here he doesn't mind being around so much, and maybe that's what friendship is for him these days.

He doesn't think he'd tell any of the others that, but Alayne's young, and he can't bring himself to shrug her off the way he'd shrug other people off. He stirs the cotents of his container around. ]

Sure. We're friends, [ he says. ] Why you askin'?

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[wont]

[ It is a harmless enough question, or at least it appears to be. No question is harmless, truly harmless, for each begs an answer to provide illumination (and so many secrets are loathe to have themselves be shown in the light). Though it is not her intention to deceive any further than is necessary, Alayne's question is perhaps misleading. She has yet to decide whether or not she and the brute with the courtesy whose name is Tommy are friends (there is part of her that would like to be, but that part of her is starved and unruly and Alayne knows better than to allow it much counsel).

She watches silently as he stirs his food. Alayne thinks, if she were to leave the conversation there, he may stare into that modest container indefinitely in an attempt to avoid her gaze. A moment passes, then two, then: ] Then I would never wish for you to pretend for my sake— [ I pretend enough for us both already. ] —friend.