[ There's this conflict between telling too much of the truth and reverting to what he's known for years, what he's more comfortable with - namely, lying. Avoiding. The problem with the former is that it is dangerous - truth, information both are a weapon when wielded in the right hands and Pietro knows that. He wouldn't argue so passionately if he didn't.
The problem with the latter is that it's a part of himself he'd like to leave in the boiling sands. ]
A big part, actually. There's also...happiness. How you help people be happy, how you manage your own happiness? [ He takes a drink - beer, for the record. ] I can't imagine getting married without being concerned about the happiness of whomever else is involved, and I haven't had a great track record with relationships.
You are kind, and you understand people, at least, even if you don't always tell them so. That is better than not understanding, yes? That is not a bad start.
[ Whether that adds up to being able to help anyone else be happy, though, Pietro doesn't should like he knows any better than Cassian. (And if even Cassian can't, what hope is there for someone like him?) ]
[ That's sincere, at least, and he tries to be kind. Understanding people is...related to the job, to the 'first life', to the ever present and just as vague war. It's a good skill to have and he's proud of it. Just not proud of how it came to be. ]
It's better than not trying to understand anyone. But communication is very important.
[ There's a pause. Should he leave it there? ]
For a long time I was rather certain that I would die without anyone, and I had come to terms with that. [ And then he didn't. And now he's here. ] By the time I had allowed myself to entertain the idea that it wasn't going to happen that way...I don't know.
-You didn't do anything about it? [ he guesses, because he can only be not rude for so many minutes in a row really, and he doesn't see any wife or nieces or nephews running around here, Cassian. ]
There wasn't time. [ Cassian takes a breath and another drink. Pietro, in this moment, reminds him strongly of Kay and now he's back there, in that room, hearing Goodbye. He has to shut his eyes and remember to keep breathing. ] There really wasn't. It was an unmitigated disaster and...
[ Pietro isn't the best at reading people - information is a weapon other people use against him, not anything he knows how to wield - but he does catch the angle of Cassian's careful breaths just now. ]
Sorry. I shouldn't spring these things on you, I was only-- thinking too much, like usual. [ He breathes a quick, wry smile. ]
[ He probably says that a little too quickly but what is the phrase? Fake it til you make it? Kay and Pietro would be an unstoppable combination of salt and information, and Cassian takes some odd comfort in imagining what they would be like, interacting with one another. ]
I don't want you to feel like you can't ask me things. Especially things like this.
[ Light, because it's usually true, but he is easily dissuaded from these sorts of things, and he appreciates Cassian's receptiveness more than he'll say. He makes a small thoughtful noise, trying to sort through if and how to continue. ]
I was only thinking that things are very different here, that is all. In Serbia, with my mother's people, you would be -- how do they say it here, an old maid? [ You're welcome. ] If I weren't the way that I am, I would be married already.
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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ There's this conflict between telling too much of the truth and reverting to what he's known for years, what he's more comfortable with - namely, lying. Avoiding. The problem with the former is that it is dangerous - truth, information both are a weapon when wielded in the right hands and Pietro knows that. He wouldn't argue so passionately if he didn't.
The problem with the latter is that it's a part of himself he'd like to leave in the boiling sands. ]
A big part, actually. There's also...happiness. How you help people be happy, how you manage your own happiness? [ He takes a drink - beer, for the record. ] I can't imagine getting married without being concerned about the happiness of whomever else is involved, and I haven't had a great track record with relationships.
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[ Compliments with Pietro. ]
You are kind, and you understand people, at least, even if you don't always tell them so. That is better than not understanding, yes? That is not a bad start.
[ Whether that adds up to being able to help anyone else be happy, though, Pietro doesn't should like he knows any better than Cassian. (And if even Cassian can't, what hope is there for someone like him?) ]
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Thank you, Pietro.
[ That's sincere, at least, and he tries to be kind. Understanding people is...related to the job, to the 'first life', to the ever present and just as vague war. It's a good skill to have and he's proud of it. Just not proud of how it came to be. ]
It's better than not trying to understand anyone. But communication is very important.
[ There's a pause. Should he leave it there? ]
For a long time I was rather certain that I would die without anyone, and I had come to terms with that. [ And then he didn't. And now he's here. ] By the time I had allowed myself to entertain the idea that it wasn't going to happen that way...I don't know.
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I'm here, now.
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Sorry. I shouldn't spring these things on you, I was only-- thinking too much, like usual. [ He breathes a quick, wry smile. ]
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[ He probably says that a little too quickly but what is the phrase? Fake it til you make it? Kay and Pietro would be an unstoppable combination of salt and information, and Cassian takes some odd comfort in imagining what they would be like, interacting with one another. ]
I don't want you to feel like you can't ask me things. Especially things like this.
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[ Light, because it's usually true, but he is easily dissuaded from these sorts of things, and he appreciates Cassian's receptiveness more than he'll say. He makes a small thoughtful noise, trying to sort through if and how to continue. ]
I was only thinking that things are very different here, that is all. In Serbia, with my mother's people, you would be -- how do they say it here, an old maid? [ You're welcome. ] If I weren't the way that I am, I would be married already.
[ Not futilely pining over his TA. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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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.
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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.
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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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Alright. [ Now is as good a time as any. Better than drawing out the inevitable. ] I will be here.