[ there's a part of him that wants to dig into that crack in composure. doubt? maybe. it's possible amos doesn't know what he's talking about, is wrong. more than possible. the part of cassian that is skilled at pulling information from people whether they want to give it to him or not wants to treat amos like an unwilling informant, a mark, in this moment.
there's another part of him that thinks that amos's logic holds water. it makes sense; it's what he'd conclude, himself. it's what he'd do, himself.
there's another part of him that feels kerri's distress like a physical wound. the awakening of long-forgotten memories that float to the surface: taking her hand to comfort her, humming melodies to soothe her, combing the tangles out of her hair with as much care as another child can. remembering small softnesses; things he doesn't know how to do anymore.
he looks from amos to her, and the longing in his chest has him try to push forward before he even knows what he's doing. he stops, swallows, squeezes his eyes shut. nods slowly. does the little girl's pitch get more insistent, more distressed, at his decision? or is that just in his head? he doesn't dare open his eyes yet, to look at amos and find out. ]
Tell me something, [ he says instead. his tone sounds more like an order, but they both know it for the plea it is. give me something else to listen to.]
no subject
there's another part of him that thinks that amos's logic holds water. it makes sense; it's what he'd conclude, himself. it's what he'd do, himself.
there's another part of him that feels kerri's distress like a physical wound. the awakening of long-forgotten memories that float to the surface: taking her hand to comfort her, humming melodies to soothe her, combing the tangles out of her hair with as much care as another child can. remembering small softnesses; things he doesn't know how to do anymore.
he looks from amos to her, and the longing in his chest has him try to push forward before he even knows what he's doing. he stops, swallows, squeezes his eyes shut. nods slowly. does the little girl's pitch get more insistent, more distressed, at his decision? or is that just in his head? he doesn't dare open his eyes yet, to look at amos and find out. ]
Tell me something, [ he says instead. his tone sounds more like an order, but they both know it for the plea it is. give me something else to listen to. ]