Come now, you can't think I'd do that to you. I'd at least make your story more grand of a tale than a bedtime story, if I was going to tell it.
[and it's hardly dirty laundry if he's just recounting what the poets and bards would set down. he's guilty of no worse crime than passing along their words.]
Besides, he's long, long dead. Him and his happy ending.
[ It's always hard to tell with him– just how much is bluster and how much is him actually attempting to be kind. She puts more faith in the former because it's safer. ]
I mean, I don't think I've told you all that much. For all you know my story might be shit. Might not even be worth boring some brat to sleep with.
[he shifts, and looks at her carefully, directly where she lies- as though there's a number of things he sees in her, like he's looking at the eye underneath the flower too and not just the visible one.]
I think your story is something not even I could dream into existence.
[and then, he relaxes, moving to instead gather his hair over one shoulder. the look was gone as swiftly as it came.]
But I know already it's not something for children's ears. Might send them running back to their parents.
[ She catches the look, though she has no idea what it may possibly mean. Which may be just as much the same as not seeing it at all. ]
What a cop out!
[ The words ride on the tailend of a yawn, and Zero reaches over to tug on his hair again. ]
Knowing you you've probably put some shit together already, anyway. Don't understand half the shit you say, but I already know– you're the kind of asshole who puts all the pieces together without ever even touching them.
[ She pulls back again, eyes closing as she gets comfortable against the pillows. ]
[he says it freely, as easily as he says the rest, but what Zero's eyes won't catch as they close is the minute change in his expression. he knows. he knows he's the worst kind of person. he knows he always will be.
instead, he moves his hair so it won't get in the way while they sleep, and settles down next to her.]
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[ There's no bite behind her words and truthfully she's not surprised either. ]
Guess I should be careful what I tell you. Might end up as someone else's bedtime story.
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[and it's hardly dirty laundry if he's just recounting what the poets and bards would set down. he's guilty of no worse crime than passing along their words.]
Besides, he's long, long dead. Him and his happy ending.
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[ It's always hard to tell with him– just how much is bluster and how much is him actually attempting to be kind. She puts more faith in the former because it's safer. ]
I mean, I don't think I've told you all that much. For all you know my story might be shit. Might not even be worth boring some brat to sleep with.
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I think your story is something not even I could dream into existence.
[and then, he relaxes, moving to instead gather his hair over one shoulder. the look was gone as swiftly as it came.]
But I know already it's not something for children's ears. Might send them running back to their parents.
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What a cop out!
[ The words ride on the tailend of a yawn, and Zero reaches over to tug on his hair again. ]
Knowing you you've probably put some shit together already, anyway. Don't understand half the shit you say, but I already know– you're the kind of asshole who puts all the pieces together without ever even touching them.
[ She pulls back again, eyes closing as she gets comfortable against the pillows. ]
The worst kind of person, if you ask me.
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[he says it freely, as easily as he says the rest, but what Zero's eyes won't catch as they close is the minute change in his expression. he knows. he knows he's the worst kind of person. he knows he always will be.
instead, he moves his hair so it won't get in the way while they sleep, and settles down next to her.]
Sweet dreams, Zero.