[ There’s a moment where he almost laughs, what would have been a sharp, harsh bark. Because this guy doesn’t know the breadth of Treavor Pendleton’s bullshit, hasn’t seen Treavor at his most abrasive (though he’s seen a lot, been at the receiving end of more than Treavor’d like to think right now), so what’s he even know?
Only. It’s true there’re worse people. People who do more aggregate harm, more lasting harm, harm that bleeds for years and years. It’s true Treavor’s known - Treavor knows - a dozen handfuls of these people.
It’s possible Alice has known them, too.
Maybe it’s likely.
And think of what the guy said. About… Not being safe? Being someone people don’t feel safe around. Which doesn’t make sense to Treavor (where in shit’s name is the possible danger in this man?) until he half-traces the itch of a thought toward the roots of Alice’s hedgings, his warnings, the way he backed off that sorta-buried joke in a flailing stumble. Suggestive but not, and the guy’d seemed horrified he’d let it fly.
And Alice doesn’t hook up much. Alice doesn’t maybe hook up at all, says he doesn’t have friends, many friends, any friends, says Treavor is maybe as close as he’s got to a friend and actually, hold up a moment, that’s a terrifying fucking thought for that guy, huh?
There are things Alice is hiding. Maybe something Alice was hiding and then wasn’t hiding so much and that, wouldn’t that explain a lot about horror and ‘safe’ and Treavor doesn’t worry much about shit like this, but he knows people do worry, he knows people can be shits about who you fuck and don’t fuck and.
And. You don’t get ideas like not-safe and need-to-hide in your head unless people put ‘em there, or give you cause to hide. So maybe Treavor has some idea what Alice is getting at about rabid assholes. (And maybe Treavor’s fist is clenching slightly, his fingers tensed, his jaw set minutely. Fuck those assholes, whoever they are. Were. Are.)
A follow-up thought: Treavor should be careful with this guy. Gentle with this guy? Whatever’s going on, it isn’t easy for Alice.
(Whatever’s going on, it isn’t unattached to Treavor. The guy likes to help him. The guy brought him here. ’It makes you think I am, and that amounts to the same.’’Worth to me.’’You have worth to me.’ That. Isn’t something Treavor can’t touch right now. The words or their implications or the way they roll a shattered, welcome warmth through him.
There’s meaning here. There’s… fuck, there’s a lot of meaning here.)
(What the fuck did Treavor ever do to incur this guy’s favor? Another question for another time.)
When he speaks, he’s looking past Alice, a little to the left and far distant, though his hand keeps its hold, his hand offers a firm, lingering press. ]
…I’ll take your word on that.
Sucks for you, guy.
[ It’s an attempt at offering tentative recognition, at suggesting yeah, maybe he’s got some idea what Alice is talking about. Suggesting Treavor won’t push at the recognition unless Alice wants.
He lets silence settle for a moment, a few moments, look away and looking away and finally returning to find Alice’s eyes. ]
Anyway, you’re right. it’s not an occasion I’m interested in. More, uh. I’d rather give it a good bird.
[ One more press of the hand, and a firm, slow sweep on his thumb over Alice’s hand. Just. Trying to ease the guy a little. (Trying to let that guy know he’s not in danger.)
Treavor shakes his head, a gesture at once small and exaggerated, then crooks an awkward half-grin. ]
As far as the rest goes, I’m not known for my compromises.
[ Which. The speaking of it shakes his smile a little, shocks through his head. Because it isn’t true. Because it’s patently untrue, whatever he might like to say or think about himself.
Treavor compromises all the fucking time, or straight-up gives in, crumbles at the slightest prod of pressure. It’s why he’s here, in this shit-eating city. Why he spends half his life in that basement and hasn’t made even a weak attempt to climb out. Why he stumbles out of bed and curls up on the floor when Tricia cocks a finger, why he doesn’t balk when someone says step aside, step aside, for anything at all.
It’s a wonder he’s any kind of a whole person anymore.
(Or. Put more accurately, he’s not so much a whole person anymore, the way he’s let all of these pieces fall aside, but also that isn’t the point here, and also he doesn’t fucking want to think about that, and the point now is, the point right now is—)
He strengthens the grin again, give a mock sigh, eyes rolling for Alice’s benefit. ]
But. What the hell. This once. I guess. Because you caught me in an okay mood. Because you put me in an okay mood.
[ Because if Treavor thinks, really thinks about Alice’s words (worth and amounting and what measures up and what worth could possibly mean, and what’s Treavor supposed to do with words he’s never found connected with himself?), that shattered warmth’ll flood through him, set him to glowing, set him warmed beyond thought beyond hold of himself and on a path toward something like (something that inarguably is) hope.
Because no one makes Treavor feel this way, and here comes this guy, and Treavor’s hungover and grinning anyway, thinking there’s nowhere else he’d like to be, thinking he feels a little like all right here. ]
Because you’re a good guy, like it or not.
I guess I’ll let it fly for now. Like if you want to say there’s worth in this mess sweating on your sofa, I guess I can’t contest it. Just gonna have to roll with believing.
[ The grins quirks a little more, and Treavor cocks his head, eyebrow raised. ]
You can’t stop me from questioning your judgment, though. Seriously questioning your judgment.
no subject
Only. It’s true there’re worse people. People who do more aggregate harm, more lasting harm, harm that bleeds for years and years. It’s true Treavor’s known - Treavor knows - a dozen handfuls of these people.
It’s possible Alice has known them, too.
Maybe it’s likely.
And think of what the guy said. About… Not being safe? Being someone people don’t feel safe around. Which doesn’t make sense to Treavor (where in shit’s name is the possible danger in this man?) until he half-traces the itch of a thought toward the roots of Alice’s hedgings, his warnings, the way he backed off that sorta-buried joke in a flailing stumble. Suggestive but not, and the guy’d seemed horrified he’d let it fly.
And Alice doesn’t hook up much. Alice doesn’t maybe hook up at all, says he doesn’t have friends, many friends, any friends, says Treavor is maybe as close as he’s got to a friend and actually, hold up a moment, that’s a terrifying fucking thought for that guy, huh?
There are things Alice is hiding. Maybe something Alice was hiding and then wasn’t hiding so much and that, wouldn’t that explain a lot about horror and ‘safe’ and Treavor doesn’t worry much about shit like this, but he knows people do worry, he knows people can be shits about who you fuck and don’t fuck and.
And. You don’t get ideas like not-safe and need-to-hide in your head unless people put ‘em there, or give you cause to hide. So maybe Treavor has some idea what Alice is getting at about rabid assholes. (And maybe Treavor’s fist is clenching slightly, his fingers tensed, his jaw set minutely. Fuck those assholes, whoever they are. Were. Are.)
A follow-up thought: Treavor should be careful with this guy. Gentle with this guy? Whatever’s going on, it isn’t easy for Alice.
(Whatever’s going on, it isn’t unattached to Treavor. The guy likes to help him. The guy brought him here. ’It makes you think I am, and that amounts to the same.’ ’Worth to me.’ ’You have worth to me.’ That. Isn’t something Treavor can’t touch right now. The words or their implications or the way they roll a shattered, welcome warmth through him.
There’s meaning here. There’s… fuck, there’s a lot of meaning here.)
(What the fuck did Treavor ever do to incur this guy’s favor? Another question for another time.)
When he speaks, he’s looking past Alice, a little to the left and far distant, though his hand keeps its hold, his hand offers a firm, lingering press. ]
…I’ll take your word on that.
Sucks for you, guy.
[ It’s an attempt at offering tentative recognition, at suggesting yeah, maybe he’s got some idea what Alice is talking about. Suggesting Treavor won’t push at the recognition unless Alice wants.
He lets silence settle for a moment, a few moments, look away and looking away and finally returning to find Alice’s eyes. ]
Anyway, you’re right. it’s not an occasion I’m interested in. More, uh. I’d rather give it a good bird.
[ One more press of the hand, and a firm, slow sweep on his thumb over Alice’s hand. Just. Trying to ease the guy a little. (Trying to let that guy know he’s not in danger.)
Treavor shakes his head, a gesture at once small and exaggerated, then crooks an awkward half-grin. ]
As far as the rest goes, I’m not known for my compromises.
[ Which. The speaking of it shakes his smile a little, shocks through his head. Because it isn’t true. Because it’s patently untrue, whatever he might like to say or think about himself.
Treavor compromises all the fucking time, or straight-up gives in, crumbles at the slightest prod of pressure. It’s why he’s here, in this shit-eating city. Why he spends half his life in that basement and hasn’t made even a weak attempt to climb out. Why he stumbles out of bed and curls up on the floor when Tricia cocks a finger, why he doesn’t balk when someone says step aside, step aside, for anything at all.
It’s a wonder he’s any kind of a whole person anymore.
(Or. Put more accurately, he’s not so much a whole person anymore, the way he’s let all of these pieces fall aside, but also that isn’t the point here, and also he doesn’t fucking want to think about that, and the point now is, the point right now is—)
He strengthens the grin again, give a mock sigh, eyes rolling for Alice’s benefit. ]
But. What the hell. This once. I guess. Because you caught me in an okay mood. Because you put me in an okay mood.
[ Because if Treavor thinks, really thinks about Alice’s words (worth and amounting and what measures up and what worth could possibly mean, and what’s Treavor supposed to do with words he’s never found connected with himself?), that shattered warmth’ll flood through him, set him to glowing, set him warmed beyond thought beyond hold of himself and on a path toward something like (something that inarguably is) hope.
Because no one makes Treavor feel this way, and here comes this guy, and Treavor’s hungover and grinning anyway, thinking there’s nowhere else he’d like to be, thinking he feels a little like all right here. ]
Because you’re a good guy, like it or not.
I guess I’ll let it fly for now. Like if you want to say there’s worth in this mess sweating on your sofa, I guess I can’t contest it. Just gonna have to roll with believing.
[ The grins quirks a little more, and Treavor cocks his head, eyebrow raised. ]
You can’t stop me from questioning your judgment, though. Seriously questioning your judgment.