That hurts. It hurts worse because it was, is, true. And Carolina isn't certain that can be changed.
She watches him pull free the dogtags as he's talking, but her attention is fixed more on what he's saying than his actions. He has no idea how close he is, with that comment about 'last man standing' - when truly, Wash better deserves such a title. Carolina cannot go back to how she used to be, not and learn to live again, and perhaps that means there's too much space between them, too much distance to be overcome, yet his faith in her surprises, even now, that much is clear from her eyes. ]
You're wrong, Taylor. If I--No, I know that I owe that to you. If no one else, you. [She almost never uses his name, not publicly, not like this. she does so now, because its important, and it's not fair, it's never been fair, she's never been fair to him and he has always, always deserved so much better than her.] ..I trust you.
[ York, it would seem, isn't the only one capable of mixed messages.
But she means it. Wishes she had said it so long ago, though truthfully that fact had never been in doubt. He'd been right not to trust her, Connie had been right not to, even if she'd learned that fact too late and the knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.
And then he manages to get the dogtags around Carolina's neck, startling her, a laspe in judgement or awareness, she's not sure. Her right hand snaps out, seizes his left wrist before he can completely pull away, grip just shy of holding too tight. She hasn't been comfortable with anyone, friend or foe, having their hands near her neck in a very long time - but she knows York wouldn't move to hurt her. Not like that. Not when they're good at hurting each other with words alone
After a moment, she relaxes her grip, transferring the hold to his hand, fingers briefly curling around and against his palm. She doesn't press it against her cheek, much as she might want to. Instead, she holds his gaze, thinking, eyes dark, before letting go. They were friends once, still sort of. And if they're to learn how to be friends again, then-- ]
Fair. [softly] I'd like that.
You don't need to worry about them. I'll take care of things.
Re: T^T so dumb ugh
That hurts. It hurts worse because it was, is, true. And Carolina isn't certain that can be changed.
She watches him pull free the dogtags as he's talking, but her attention is fixed more on what he's saying than his actions. He has no idea how close he is, with that comment about 'last man standing' - when truly, Wash better deserves such a title. Carolina cannot go back to how she used to be, not and learn to live again, and perhaps that means there's too much space between them, too much distance to be overcome, yet his faith in her surprises, even now, that much is clear from her eyes. ]
You're wrong, Taylor. If I--No, I know that I owe that to you. If no one else, you. [She almost never uses his name, not publicly, not like this. she does so now, because its important, and it's not fair, it's never been fair, she's never been fair to him and he has always, always deserved so much better than her.] ..I trust you.
[ York, it would seem, isn't the only one capable of mixed messages.
But she means it. Wishes she had said it so long ago, though truthfully that fact had never been in doubt. He'd been right not to trust her, Connie had been right not to, even if she'd learned that fact too late and the knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.
And then he manages to get the dogtags around Carolina's neck, startling her, a laspe in judgement or awareness, she's not sure. Her right hand snaps out, seizes his left wrist before he can completely pull away, grip just shy of holding too tight. She hasn't been comfortable with anyone, friend or foe, having their hands near her neck in a very long time - but she knows York wouldn't move to hurt her. Not like that.
Not when they're good at hurting each other with words aloneAfter a moment, she relaxes her grip, transferring the hold to his hand, fingers briefly curling around and against his palm. She doesn't press it against her cheek, much as she might want to. Instead, she holds his gaze, thinking, eyes dark, before letting go. They were friends once, still sort of. And if they're to learn how to be friends again, then-- ]
Fair. [softly] I'd like that.
You don't need to worry about them. I'll take care of things.