hmph

[freedomsuitsme]

(come_sailaway IC inbox)

"Do try to keep your handwriting legible. I've enough on my plate without having to decipher chicken scratch."

"Correspondences written on a dirty bar napkin will not receive a response."

Comments

[businessorlibation]

"I'm looking..." And he deflates visibly, shaking his head. "I'm looking for you to know me as I am, Maxwell, not to ascribe virtue to me that isn't mine. Not to send my friends to tell me I'm doing too much, when what I'm doing is hiding, and they know it."

[freedomsuitsme]

There's something about Johnny's admission that irks him. Maybe it's the air of 'my weakness, my shame'- where he comes from, being afraid can be the one thing that saves you, and knowing when to run is the greatest form of wisdom. Too often, 'being brave' is what leads to a loss of life, a loss of resources, a general setback for everyone involved. Oh, of course it's necessary at times, but reckless bravado is a lethal drug more often than not. Then there's the fact that Johnny isn't exactly cowering in his cabin. Oh, certainly, he could let his fear dictate that he do exactly that, but instead the man is out here bringing up the mood of the room and urging cooperation in a place that could just as easily devolve into a frenzy of 'every person for themselves.' If this had been a simple admission of a weakness, he would have taken it more in stride; it would feel no different to him than the librarian's inability to sleep, or the valkyrie's inability to eat vegetables, but there's a layer of... maybe not self-pity, but something that leaves a bad taste in the magician's mouth. Perhaps it's some of his lingering animosity bubbling back to the surface, or perhaps it's some of that distaste at being accused of being a good person, but when he responds, it's with a bite to his tone.

"Then I would ask that you do the same with me. I am not a good man, Johnny Summer. I am not a caring man. I am thrice-damned and wretched, I've sold my soul at every opportunity I can, and I still chuckle to myself when I see irony in someone else's suffering. I send others to do my bidding and avoid danger because I crumple at the faintest breeze. So please, do be open with me, but do not mistake anything I do for compassion, and by the gods, stop privately wallowing in your insecurities; you're one of the most together people here, and frankly, it's embarrassing."

He takes another sip of water, expression cold.

"But no, I won't embarrass you in front of your friends, since you asked nicely. Heaven forbid I do anything to remind you of something you're already taking well in stride."