"I know, I know. Ya got me there." He tilts his head to the side, his smile undeterred.
"But I'm pretty sure I can manage that scratch by the time yer back usin' that pretty mouth of yers in all the ways ya wanna," he teases.
There's a moment before his expression sobers a touch. "It a'right if I ask ya somethin' a bit more serious? It dunn't hav'ta be now if yer not feelin' up fer it."
Serious topics are hard for her at the best of times. But there's so much weight on her mind that she doesn't know how to think of anything else, so she nods.
He nods tightly in answer, understanding her sacrifice in conceding. Sweeney's lips tighten for a moment, his gaze darting over her features.
"This." He looks from her eyes to her lips and her chest before his focus returns. "Was this my fault?" He doesn't think it was, not directly, but fuck if he remembers. That shit isn't guaranteed on a good day.
His expression offers the apology his tongue is always hesitant to give. "Didn't mean ta put ya in that situation," he whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. There's another second before he can find the words to continue.
"I hate that I hurt you." He can't say he didn't want to, because in the moment, he did. Even if it was for a better reason than most. Sweeney gives another squeeze.
"We don't hav'ta talk 'bout it now." That seems like a topic for a day when typing isn't required.
"Yeah." Sweeney wishes it was that. That he could just sweep it away under the guise of it being someone else. While it wasn't really him, it doesn't mean it really wasn't.
"Dunn't make what happened ta ya any less hurtful." His lips press for a moment, his eyes lingering on hers.
She nods. It's old hurt. It's omnipresent hurt. He didn't make it worse than it already was; the only difference is now he's seen it, and it's fresher on her mind.
If she started blaming people for things they do during floods--and she still believes that's what this was, because she's had no interest in the network--she'd never leave her cabin at all.
It didn't escape her notice that what Hickey stole first was her tongue. Hickey isn't the first person to want her to just shut up. Even men she loves have physically smothered her words at one point or another. Hickey isn't even the first person on the ship to physically make her quiet. And maybe it doesn't matter; everything of note that she had to say has blurred together and leaked out of her this week.
But Sweeney is sitting here offering an ear, and she promised herself she would try to trust him. She can't let the flood change her ability to trust him.
She reaches over and strokes his face just at the hairline, just a whisper of her fingertips.
She keeps her head turned to him even when her eyes close. Three, four times she jerks awake and looks around--at him, at Godric, back to him--and then she settles again.
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She touches her low back and motions to him; he got skewered with glass, after all.
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"I know, I know. Ya got me there." He tilts his head to the side, his smile undeterred.
"But I'm pretty sure I can manage that scratch by the time yer back usin' that pretty mouth of yers in all the ways ya wanna," he teases.
There's a moment before his expression sobers a touch. "It a'right if I ask ya somethin' a bit more serious? It dunn't hav'ta be now if yer not feelin' up fer it."
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"This." He looks from her eyes to her lips and her chest before his focus returns. "Was this my fault?" He doesn't think it was, not directly, but fuck if he remembers. That shit isn't guaranteed on a good day.
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Hickey. In greenhouse. I was looking 4 u.
tore tongue out crushed me
tried to fight
She will never say any of that out loud but it spills out this way.
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"I hate that I hurt you." He can't say he didn't want to, because in the moment, he did. Even if it was for a better reason than most. Sweeney gives another squeeze.
"We don't hav'ta talk 'bout it now." That seems like a topic for a day when typing isn't required.
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She motions around them with a bleak smile. Floods all the time.
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"Dunn't make what happened ta ya any less hurtful." His lips press for a moment, his eyes lingering on hers.
"We good?"
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If she started blaming people for things they do during floods--and she still believes that's what this was, because she's had no interest in the network--she'd never leave her cabin at all.
U okay?
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"Thank ya fer talkin' ta me 'bout it, even when yer still havin' a time of things." Sweeney squeezes her hand.
"Ya wanna talk more later, we can when yer mended. A'right?" His brow lifts in question.
"That's the first order of business."
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But Sweeney is sitting here offering an ear, and she promised herself she would try to trust him. She can't let the flood change her ability to trust him.
She reaches over and strokes his face just at the hairline, just a whisper of her fingertips.
Stay til i fall asleep pls?
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"Course I will, Trouble." The touch of a playful smile hints in his lips. "Keep askin' the easy favors, an' I'll just keep havin' ta to them."
He gently takes her hand and lowers it enough to press it to his chest before encouraging it down to hers.
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