It is one of the things I appreciate about you most.
[ That he doesn't give up. That even though he does when things are personal like this, that Cassian can do something to make that easier. Somehow.
Cassian makes his own hum of agreement, chased by another swallow of beer. ]
American culture is weird. [ Says the not!Mexican. ] I'm sure amongst most people I would be an old maid. [ There's even a note of amusement there. ]
You'll forgive me if I'm not in a hurry to see you married, though. Not that you shouldn't, it's just... [ Just what? He's young and they're trapped in some giant experiment that messes with their minds and memories? ] Easy way to make an old maid feel older.
[ Ugh, feelings. Cassian can't see it, but Pietro scuffs his shoe at that, head ducked. He supposes he has a few good qualities. ]
You do not need to worry, I doubt anyone is remotely interested.
[ In him, and certainly not in spending the rest of their lives tied to him. ]
And if they were, it would only be a matter of time before they brought out the pitchforks instead, so really it is better if I don't entertain the idea.
[ A hum of acknowledgement. Give him a moment to decide how to best respond to that. ]
I suppose the first question would be are you interested in anyone? [ Not that he has to answer, exactly. ] Small towns are strange, I think. Insular in an irregular way.
Beyond that... [ Cassian is aware he's missing context here as he pulls together the threads that make up the sum of his remembered history with Pietro. He's often literal. People don't pull out the pitchforks for people who are just smarter than they are, or people like him, who kill in the name of politics and warfare.
People pull out the pitchforks for monsters and Cassian has no idea why Pietro would consider himself a monster in anyone's eyes. ]
For one, they would have to get through me first. [ Which is not an idle sort of threat, coming from Cassian. ] For another: I don't...remember the particulars. There's a good chance I never knew them. [ Cassian takes another swallow of his drink. ] Anything they had to tell me about you...I wanted to hear from you directly. That hasn't changed.
It's your story. They're your secrets. It has to be your choice as much as any of us can make those choices.
You're family. [ Cassian shuts his eyes. This new life of not lying is coming up with fascinating truths. ] That won't change.
It's a well-timed reassurance, because the moment Cassian's words click, the moment Pietro realizes he didn't already know, fear cinches tight in his chest. He's said too much, too late to take it back, thinking Cassian already knew what he was and had already decided not to abandon him -- but he hadn't decided that at all. That's still an option.
He takes a breath, and another, and tries very hard to believe it isn't the only option. ]
Sorry, I thought I had-- [ told him, because that's what family means to Pietro, the people you trust with absolutely anything, and Cassian has earned that much of his trust. As Pietro tries to think back, though, he can't remember a single time he'd said it aloud. ] But I didn't.
[ And he doesn't have to now. He could stop talking, and even if Cassian might wonder, he wouldn't know. (He wouldn't leave.) But they wouldn't really be family then, either. ]
-I could show you.
The phone is no good, [ The phone is too easily tapped; he may know nothing of the truth of their situation, but he knows this is too dangerous to advertise. ] but in person, somewhere there are not many people.
Alright, [ Cassian breathes out, setting the glass down. His blaster is still in it's holster behind his back, jacket on the back of a chair at the table in the middle of the kitchen. ]
Should I meet you at your place? [ From there, they can make their way to the campgrounds, maybe, or the woods. Not too close to the fence, though. ] We can sort it out from there.
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no subject
[ That he doesn't give up. That even though he does when things are personal like this, that Cassian can do something to make that easier. Somehow.
Cassian makes his own hum of agreement, chased by another swallow of beer. ]
American culture is weird. [ Says the not!Mexican. ] I'm sure amongst most people I would be an old maid. [ There's even a note of amusement there. ]
You'll forgive me if I'm not in a hurry to see you married, though. Not that you shouldn't, it's just... [ Just what? He's young and they're trapped in some giant experiment that messes with their minds and memories? ] Easy way to make an old maid feel older.
no subject
You do not need to worry, I doubt anyone is remotely interested.
[ In him, and certainly not in spending the rest of their lives tied to him. ]
And if they were, it would only be a matter of time before they brought out the pitchforks instead, so really it is better if I don't entertain the idea.
[ And yet. ]
no subject
I suppose the first question would be are you interested in anyone? [ Not that he has to answer, exactly. ] Small towns are strange, I think. Insular in an irregular way.
Beyond that... [ Cassian is aware he's missing context here as he pulls together the threads that make up the sum of his remembered history with Pietro. He's often literal. People don't pull out the pitchforks for people who are just smarter than they are, or people like him, who kill in the name of politics and warfare.
People pull out the pitchforks for monsters and Cassian has no idea why Pietro would consider himself a monster in anyone's eyes. ]
For one, they would have to get through me first. [ Which is not an idle sort of threat, coming from Cassian. ] For another: I don't...remember the particulars. There's a good chance I never knew them. [ Cassian takes another swallow of his drink. ] Anything they had to tell me about you...I wanted to hear from you directly. That hasn't changed.
It's your story. They're your secrets. It has to be your choice as much as any of us can make those choices.
You're family. [ Cassian shuts his eyes. This new life of not lying is coming up with fascinating truths. ] That won't change.
no subject
It's a well-timed reassurance, because the moment Cassian's words click, the moment Pietro realizes he didn't already know, fear cinches tight in his chest. He's said too much, too late to take it back, thinking Cassian already knew what he was and had already decided not to abandon him -- but he hadn't decided that at all. That's still an option.
He takes a breath, and another, and tries very hard to believe it isn't the only option. ]
Sorry, I thought I had-- [ told him, because that's what family means to Pietro, the people you trust with absolutely anything, and Cassian has earned that much of his trust. As Pietro tries to think back, though, he can't remember a single time he'd said it aloud. ] But I didn't.
[ And he doesn't have to now. He could stop talking, and even if Cassian might wonder, he wouldn't know. (He wouldn't leave.) But they wouldn't really be family then, either. ]
-I could show you.
The phone is no good, [ The phone is too easily tapped; he may know nothing of the truth of their situation, but he knows this is too dangerous to advertise. ] but in person, somewhere there are not many people.
no subject
Should I meet you at your place? [ From there, they can make their way to the campgrounds, maybe, or the woods. Not too close to the fence, though. ] We can sort it out from there.
no subject
Alright. [ Now is as good a time as any. Better than drawing out the inevitable. ] I will be here.