[ Kate has the good grace to wince at the strain and the pointedness, which are both fair and deserved. She isn't really sure how to respond and while normally that wouldn't stop her from replying anyway, she can also tell he isn't really finished, so she plays with arranging egg on toast and waits.
And actually blushes, just a little. 'Humble' isn't really a word that gets used to describe Kate very often, but someone else calling her extraordinary and in this context is enough to trigger a brief moment of something that approaches modesty or shyness. Just a moment, and then she picks her head back up from its lean over her plate, mouth pressed into that same flat, thoughtful line. ]
I guess when you put it like that. [ The consideration she's giving to what he's said is both serious and genuine, but it isn't actually foremost in her mind anymore. She fiddles with her fork, rolling the stem back and forth between fingertips for a moment before she speaks again. ]
You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but-- what was it like? How did it happen?
[ That sounds conclusive, a little weary, I don't want to talk about it--and she did say he didn't have to. But he does want to, sort of. It's more that he's on the tipping point between two levels of friendship, the one where he tries to be there for people and the one where he trusts them to do the same for him, and he needs a moment and a mildly wary glance at her face to decide to cross over. ]
We could stun people, we tried to when we could, but that meant they would get back up. We've only got one prison, and going there is arguably worse than dying. Not to mention he had a whole army of werewolves, and containing a hundred of them every full moon for the duration of a life sentence would be a lot of trouble. [ Which is terrible. But if anyone can say it, it's him, right? ] And the giants.
[ Not everyone would count giants as people, but not everyone would count Remus as people either, so he does. He's staring at a spot of nothing on the table and tapping his fork into his eggs. He notices and stops at the same time he realises he's not quite answering her question. ]
I think the only time I had a clear choice and really meant to do it was after Edgar Bones died. They got his whole family. His youngest was five. Right after that, when we caught a few of them off guard--I'm sorry any of it ever happened, but I'm not sure I'm sorry for that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alsohawkeye) wrote2024-01-11 07:28 pm
no subject
And actually blushes, just a little. 'Humble' isn't really a word that gets used to describe Kate very often, but someone else calling her extraordinary and in this context is enough to trigger a brief moment of something that approaches modesty or shyness. Just a moment, and then she picks her head back up from its lean over her plate, mouth pressed into that same flat, thoughtful line. ]
I guess when you put it like that. [ The consideration she's giving to what he's said is both serious and genuine, but it isn't actually foremost in her mind anymore. She fiddles with her fork, rolling the stem back and forth between fingertips for a moment before she speaks again. ]
You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but-- what was it like? How did it happen?
no subject
[ That sounds conclusive, a little weary, I don't want to talk about it--and she did say he didn't have to. But he does want to, sort of. It's more that he's on the tipping point between two levels of friendship, the one where he tries to be there for people and the one where he trusts them to do the same for him, and he needs a moment and a mildly wary glance at her face to decide to cross over. ]
We could stun people, we tried to when we could, but that meant they would get back up. We've only got one prison, and going there is arguably worse than dying. Not to mention he had a whole army of werewolves, and containing a hundred of them every full moon for the duration of a life sentence would be a lot of trouble. [ Which is terrible. But if anyone can say it, it's him, right? ] And the giants.
[ Not everyone would count giants as people, but not everyone would count Remus as people either, so he does. He's staring at a spot of nothing on the table and tapping his fork into his eggs. He notices and stops at the same time he realises he's not quite answering her question. ]
I think the only time I had a clear choice and really meant to do it was after Edgar Bones died. They got his whole family. His youngest was five. Right after that, when we caught a few of them off guard--I'm sorry any of it ever happened, but I'm not sure I'm sorry for that.