He once arranged for the death of someone I loved. Manipulated her into a sacrifice only she could make, for the good of a world of faceless, abstract people none of us had ever met. One life for one world. And the only life that could do it was my Minfilia's.
I hated him for doing it. I rather think he hated himself for doing it, too.
You and I aren't good at making the right decision when it's a decision like this. Our curse is that we're both practical enough to know the right decision when we see it and still hate the person that made it and still love them despite hating them for it.
And I suspect our resident Uriangers are the very people we'd find ourselves leaping in front of said trolleys for. Which rather defeats the point.
[He riffles through the nugget pile until he finds one that's actually relatively crispy and egg-shaped, eyes it, decides it's to his liking, and bites into it.]
My point is —
[.........]
Mayhap there wasn't a point, really. I suppose I just...wanted you to know.
[He flips the remainder of his nugget into the air in a high arc, leans back in his chair far enough to catch it in his mouth (the dexterous son of a bitch disproving his own point like the bastard he is), and then gets up as she bids him, still chewing.]
she lets him finish chewing, because she is capable of being polite about five seconds a week, and then moves around the table and pulls him into a hug. another very tight one, like the other day.]
[FIVE WHOLE SECONDS OF NOT BEING A CHOKING HAZARD bless her
But you know how, when you hug someone awhile, and then you sort of start to pull away like "haha okay I guess that's enough hugging, huh, sorry", and then they just sort of wrap their arms around you a little more securely and draw you back in and oh, a little more of that, then, I guess?
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Yeah. I do. [she's listening.]
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I hated him for doing it. I rather think he hated himself for doing it, too.
You and I aren't good at making the right decision when it's a decision like this. Our curse is that we're both practical enough to know the right decision when we see it and still hate the person that made it and still love them despite hating them for it.
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It's best not to put me in charge of practical decisions. [she says, finally.] Because I'll make the wrong one on purpose, again and again.
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[He riffles through the nugget pile until he finds one that's actually relatively crispy and egg-shaped, eyes it, decides it's to his liking, and bites into it.]
My point is —
[.........]
Mayhap there wasn't a point, really. I suppose I just...wanted you to know.
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there's a pause, after he says that, and then she glances at him:]
Stand up, Waters.
[before standing up, herself.]
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[He flips the remainder of his nugget into the air in a high arc, leans back in his chair far enough to catch it in his mouth (the dexterous son of a bitch disproving his own point like the bastard he is), and then gets up as she bids him, still chewing.]
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she lets him finish chewing, because she is capable of being polite about five seconds a week, and then moves around the table and pulls him into a hug. another very tight one, like the other day.]
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But you know how, when you hug someone awhile, and then you sort of start to pull away like "haha okay I guess that's enough hugging, huh, sorry", and then they just sort of wrap their arms around you a little more securely and draw you back in and oh, a little more of that, then, I guess?
That.]