[It would not help, to know that she could confirm that. Daphne is a jealous creature but she is also one who ultimately doesnāt want to see the men she was careless enough to fall in love with suffer for any reason. Itās largely why she keeps her relationships so separate.
She feels a tension unspool from her stomach. Okay.
She believes him.
Itās an odd thing, to be comfortable with murder, with violence to a degree that most people would find sickening, but to draw the line there. But it matters.
She takes a careful step forward.]
Do you need time away from me?
[Which is a better question than are you angry with me.]
[it is a much better question. neglecting to put the word angry on whatever he's feeling doesn't allow him to latch onto it and make angry his point of equilibrium.
instead she keeps them on even ground together, and doesn't let that well of inner rage within her feed his. what he hears is that she understands where his anger is coming from, and is still on his side as well. the anger ebbs out of him, slowly but surely. he's guarded still, but there's less of a snarl with it now; for a moment or two he simply regards her - warily - without answering the question.]
Be honest. [there's something like a smirk that flickers across his mouth, but it's gone quick, with no humor in it at all.] Did you ask because you were afraid just what kind of man I might be after all?
[She says it without hesitation, without a moment to toss the question around, without any fear that she might be lying to him. She's not. Fear was never part of this equation.]
I know the man you are with me. Fear has nothing to do with it.
[She keeps her hands to herself, even though she wants, desperately, to reach out, to move his hair away from his face, to press her mouth against his shoulder.]
I'm not deluding myself. I know you're a violent man.
[he believes her, when she says it, not just because she sounds sincere but because he wants that to be the case. he wouldn't love her like he does if not for his belief that she understands him on this level: that he is a violent man the way that jack is a clever man, the way she is an assertive woman, the way max was a seductive woman, because that is the gift they have to put to use in the world, the tool they most effectively wield to keep them alive.
charles vane is not ashamed of the man he is or the things he's done to keep himself going. but daphne has welcomed too much of him already for it to be so simple with her. he doesn't give a fuck if most people believe he's even worse than he really is, and in fact would encourage it, but not her. she ought to be able to see the lines he wouldn't cross.]
What I did to her - it wasn't personal. [that matters, in his mind. it mattered that max knew it at the time, and it matters that daphne knows it now.] I did what I had to do, and so did she.
[Her eyebrows smooth; there was a little tension in her forehead and it eases.]
I know.
[She says it softly. She does know. She reaches a hand forward, to bridge the space between them, to his wrist, but doesn't quite touch him. Not yet. It's an offer, more than anything.]
You're a violent man, but you're not a senseless one. I also know that if anyone hurt me like that, even if I did something to deserve it, you would ruin them. You would do worse than what Anne did.
[She moves into that space like she's always occupied it, like it's the only space in the world that matters. She looks right up at him.]
I am.
[She says it, and she puts her arms around his waist.]
This isn't your fault. Me, and my thoughts. I'm a lawyer. I was trained to look for the things that people do, and why people do them. I'm a queen. I have to know these things. I'm curious.
[god, he really fucking loves the feeling of silk. absolutely worthless from a functionality perspective, but it's smooth and soft against the curves of her skin. exactly the kind of thing to take his mind off of whatever he might have been angry about. although her words draw his eyes back to hers, instead of following the ripple of her blouse under his fingers.]
Jack told you how Eleanor responded. [that wound was deep. it festered and didn't heal.] He must've told you the effect it had. On me.
[his jaw sets. once again his eyes narrow as he looks at her, but this time he doesn't draw away. seems she's in the mood for hard questions, as though she either senses his resolve to be honest with her or is testing the limits of it.
then he reaches up, and brushes her hair back.]
Yes.
[it is the truth. weak as it may have been.]
I let myself believe something could be salvaged between us long past the moment she proved otherwise.
[The idea of doing something like that to him makes her stomach curdle. If she ever meets Eleanor, she thinks that the pain she'll inflict won't be enough.]
I don't think I would like her very much.
[She says it and she catches his hand, brings it to her mouth, a kiss right on the edge of a rough knuckle.]
[that's when he smiles, his thumb running along the soft pout of her lips.]
No, I don't suppose you would.
[under different circumstances, maybe she would have. if daphne and eleanor lived in the same time and place and their interests aligned, vane knows, thinking about it now, that their reach would have been formidable indeed. but as soon as their goals conflicted, it would have been destroyed. eleanor was no stranger to betrayal.
his touch slips beneath her chin, where it pauses for a moment as a thought occurs to him.]
Did he tell you anything else?
[just how big a chunk of backstory has been shared, exactly.]
[he's not looking for an excuse to correct her. it's a pretty crucial distinction, and since he didn't hear the story being told, he wants to be sure she understands.]
Jack's lucky I didn't kill them both.
[he doesn't say it to imply that jack should be grateful for getting beaten and humiliated on a daily basis instead. it's simply a fact. vane should have killed him, especially by his own standards of justice. but that was a line he couldn't cross. and in any case, he knew the choice he made would hurt worse.
however, he can tell daphne's eyes are starting to glaze over. it's late, and she's clearly had a lot on her mind all day. once again vane lifts his hand and touches her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.]
I'll tell you the rest, if you'd like. But let's get out of here.
[She smiles a little, at him, and nods, then moves just enough to take go get her bag.]
Sure. It doesn't have to be today.
[She thinks she's probably wrung enough out of him today. She's inordinately pleased that he didn't lose his temper. That he let her blindside him like that, and he just answered the questions.
She loops her bag over her shoulder and reaches to take his hand, tangling their fingers together.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She feels a tension unspool from her stomach. Okay.
She believes him.
Itās an odd thing, to be comfortable with murder, with violence to a degree that most people would find sickening, but to draw the line there. But it matters.
She takes a careful step forward.]
Do you need time away from me?
[Which is a better question than are you angry with me.]
I know I blindsided you.
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instead she keeps them on even ground together, and doesn't let that well of inner rage within her feed his. what he hears is that she understands where his anger is coming from, and is still on his side as well. the anger ebbs out of him, slowly but surely. he's guarded still, but there's less of a snarl with it now; for a moment or two he simply regards her - warily - without answering the question.]
Be honest. [there's something like a smirk that flickers across his mouth, but it's gone quick, with no humor in it at all.] Did you ask because you were afraid just what kind of man I might be after all?
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[She says it without hesitation, without a moment to toss the question around, without any fear that she might be lying to him. She's not. Fear was never part of this equation.]
I know the man you are with me. Fear has nothing to do with it.
[She keeps her hands to herself, even though she wants, desperately, to reach out, to move his hair away from his face, to press her mouth against his shoulder.]
I'm not deluding myself. I know you're a violent man.
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charles vane is not ashamed of the man he is or the things he's done to keep himself going. but daphne has welcomed too much of him already for it to be so simple with her. he doesn't give a fuck if most people believe he's even worse than he really is, and in fact would encourage it, but not her. she ought to be able to see the lines he wouldn't cross.]
What I did to her - it wasn't personal. [that matters, in his mind. it mattered that max knew it at the time, and it matters that daphne knows it now.] I did what I had to do, and so did she.
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I know.
[She says it softly. She does know. She reaches a hand forward, to bridge the space between them, to his wrist, but doesn't quite touch him. Not yet. It's an offer, more than anything.]
You're a violent man, but you're not a senseless one. I also know that if anyone hurt me like that, even if I did something to deserve it, you would ruin them. You would do worse than what Anne did.
Am I wrong?
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he shakes his head.]
No, you're not.
[there's dying, and then there's dying badly. he can be very creative about both.]
But that's because you're my woman.
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I am.
[She says it, and she puts her arms around his waist.]
This isn't your fault. Me, and my thoughts. I'm a lawyer. I was trained to look for the things that people do, and why people do them. I'm a queen. I have to know these things. I'm curious.
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Jack told you how Eleanor responded. [that wound was deep. it festered and didn't heal.] He must've told you the effect it had. On me.
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He told me you fucked off. Somewhere.
[Which, frankly, is both understandable and not a bad instinct. It's one she absolutely agrees with, truth be told.]
After she took everything, did you still want her?
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then he reaches up, and brushes her hair back.]
Yes.
[it is the truth. weak as it may have been.]
I let myself believe something could be salvaged between us long past the moment she proved otherwise.
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I don't think I would like her very much.
[She says it and she catches his hand, brings it to her mouth, a kiss right on the edge of a rough knuckle.]
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No, I don't suppose you would.
[under different circumstances, maybe she would have. if daphne and eleanor lived in the same time and place and their interests aligned, vane knows, thinking about it now, that their reach would have been formidable indeed. but as soon as their goals conflicted, it would have been destroyed. eleanor was no stranger to betrayal.
his touch slips beneath her chin, where it pauses for a moment as a thought occurs to him.]
Did he tell you anything else?
[just how big a chunk of backstory has been shared, exactly.]
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[She sighs, a little, and she looks up at him. She looks a bit tired, now.]
I can't claim to understand much of it. It doesn't matter.
[She shakes her head.]
That's about it. A story about how Anne killed a crew.
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[he's not looking for an excuse to correct her. it's a pretty crucial distinction, and since he didn't hear the story being told, he wants to be sure she understands.]
Jack's lucky I didn't kill them both.
[he doesn't say it to imply that jack should be grateful for getting beaten and humiliated on a daily basis instead. it's simply a fact. vane should have killed him, especially by his own standards of justice. but that was a line he couldn't cross. and in any case, he knew the choice he made would hurt worse.
however, he can tell daphne's eyes are starting to glaze over. it's late, and she's clearly had a lot on her mind all day. once again vane lifts his hand and touches her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.]
I'll tell you the rest, if you'd like. But let's get out of here.
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Sure. It doesn't have to be today.
[She thinks she's probably wrung enough out of him today. She's inordinately pleased that he didn't lose his temper. That he let her blindside him like that, and he just answered the questions.
She loops her bag over her shoulder and reaches to take his hand, tangling their fingers together.]
I'll blow you as an apology.