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[allgotrabies]

Hey, it's Annie, you know what to do.

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[madaboutit]

Warning burns in the back of his mind, but he can't quite remember the shape of it.

"It's ne'er safe," he whispers, mostly to himself. Sweeney's eyes dart up to her, hoping it'll help put things in perspective. His expression softens. There's warmth. Comfort. Stillness.

The feeling of her lips wrapped around him. His gaze falls, almost embarrassed. It's like for a moment he isn't sure where to look. "I...I think I'm not s'pposed ta look for you." He feels like he's reminded himself of this before. "I think...I think yer s'pposed to...come to me." That's awkward. Doubly with her being here now of her own volition.

[allgotrabies]

"I like coming to you," she says, her head canting slightly to the side to better see his expression.

She doesn't know what he means. Maybe--probably--he doesn't, either. But he's talking, and she's listening. "Why do you think you aren't supposed to find me?"

[madaboutit]

His gaze darts to hers as she tips her head towards him. Sweeney blinks, trying to remember. There's blood. Panic. Pain. He doesn't wince at it though. It's something distant and safely separated from him in the moment. But the danger of the thing is very present.

"I..." He glances at the path in front of her knees to aid in the recollection. "Yours is the house where I die." There's stillness in the words. The soft quality of them makes it sound like he's not afraid but knows he probably should be.

[allgotrabies]

God, that hurts. She has never wanted her space to be so much as unwelcoming let alone deadly for someone she cares about to be in.

"I have more than one house," she says quietly. "The one by your cabin is still mine. And I won't let anything happen to you there. I swear."

[madaboutit]

Right. There's something in that which makes more sense. Sitting and drinking and savoring the swell of her breasts and sway of her hips. Separate. Safe.

Sweeney looks back up and nods in acknowledgement. That said, it won't hurt for her to confirm.

"You dance there."

[allgotrabies]

She smiles because he's looking at her, however briefly. "Yeah. Just for you, though," a wink, even though it's true. "You're the only one who really likes my dancing."

[madaboutit]

"You've got great tits," he answers easily. Sweeney looks more like his usual self in the moment. It's gentler on him to make current observations fit with what he knows he should remember. Her breasts aren't the only enjoyable part of her dancing, but they're an important enough part.

[allgotrabies]

She chuckles. "Thank you. See, you're also the only person who gives them the attention they deserve." She sits back on a hand, which emphasizes her cleavage a bit, teasing for a second or two before the concern sets back in.

[madaboutit]

For a second, he feels like he might give them too much attention. That's a dumb thought. He promptly shoves it away. Sweeney can feel himself--well what he was before but not before that--just below the surface, and he's searching for the cracks.

"We fucked b'fore. Well, b'fore we fucked." Obviously. He's looking for clarification, because he could have easily made the memory out of other pieces.

[allgotrabies]

"Yeah." She runs her fingers through the grass. "I think you needed to...feel like yourself. Find yourself maybe."

She isn't sure. It's a hunch, borne from seeing how hard he'd run into that bottle before and after Godric got him.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney nods, accepting her answer. That sounds like something he would do. He's quiet for several seconds. He's caught somewhere between trying to remember and debating asking. Finally, he gives in, his tone bearing an innocent and honest question.

"Did it work?"

[allgotrabies]

"I think so." He'd been calmer when she'd visited him the next morning, more himself. Not so frantic or wild. "It seemed like it did."

Until the Admiral got involved again.

[madaboutit]

He nods again. That's something at least. Even if had been brief and not remembered now, at least he'd had it.

"Good," he murmurs, then adds a bit louder. "Thanks." I guess. If only he could remember. Why did he need to before?

He's still for several seconds before it comes to him in a wave. Not all of it, but enough. Wednesday's dead, Dead Wife's not. His Coin is lost. That's why.

"Oh." He frowns at himself. "Sorry." The more he remembers things, the less eager he is to talk about them.

[allgotrabies]

She lets him have that quiet, doesn't interrupt it even with any movement other than the slow brush of her hand over the grass.

"Why sorry?" She isn't.

[madaboutit]

Sweeney isn't sure. He just knows he should be. That's strange. He'd given up apologies a good while ago. Of all the shit he carries, that's not something he wants in his life. But still, here they are.

He shrugs and slowly strokes a blade of long grass. His eyes linger on her. "Prob'bly shouldn't have done that ta you." His lips tighten. "Usin' ya like that." Even when he was frivolous with sex, he rather all the parties be in it for the same reason.

[allgotrabies]

Just like that it's like the ground shifts beneath her. She nods, biting the inside of her cheek, and looks away. "You know, no one's ever said they were sorry about that before."

Not once. Not ever. And she has let herself be used in a hundred ways since she was too young to be offering anything worthwhile.

[madaboutit]

"Yeah." The word is soft as he reminds himself of his sin. And all the ones before. The worst. The recent. The one that carried the heaviest price.

Sweeney's lips tighten, and he shifts so he's sitting more properly with his knees up where he can rest his elbows on them.

"We're all cunts." It's not as much of an apology as a statement of fact.

[allgotrabies]

"Yeah." Everyone is. "But you're not the worst one I know. Not even bottom fifty."

[madaboutit]

He exhales sharply, somewhere between a scoff and a short chuckle.

"S'ppose that's a blessin' then." He reconsiders with a small shrug. "Fer one of us at least." Even accounting for hyperbole, he doubts there's not some truth in her assessment.

Sweeney thinks. His tongue slides over his lip as he blinks his gaze askew. "Can't promise it," Obviously. "But I'll try not ta do it again."

At the moment, he doesn't want to be another cunt. He's just not sure how to even start being something else at this point.

[allgotrabies]

"I didn't feel used," she insists gently. "I still don't. I knew what it was when I kissed you back, and if it helped you then I would've been glad." She doesn't know if it did or not. It's impossible to say.

"The fact you apologized to me though is..." Dammit, she has to break off, breathe a quick breath. "Thanks. For caring. Even if you didn't hurt me."

[madaboutit]

There's something in her assurance at least. He doesn't feel like he's not a cunt, but at least she doesn't seem to resent him for it. Her thanking him makes him increasingly uncomfortable though.

Enough of that.

His tongue runs along his teeth beneath his lip. "So...yer okay then." He realizes she could probably use more context. "Overall. With...the Breach an' e'erythin'." And the sex, but she seems to have covered that pretty thoroughly.

[allgotrabies]

"Breaches are complicated." She never likes them, never looks back wishing she could relive them. She doesn't even really hang onto the relationships forged in them.

"I'm just glad it's over. I'm learning to sail, right? In the real world. Or, whatever we call the Barge. Crozier was teaching me about those big ships..." She misses him and her cheek twitches slightly with the effort of keeping her expression neutral. "So it just makes me wish he was here. He would've been a great pirate."

[madaboutit]

Sweeney watches her. Listens. But he doesn't know who the fuck Crozier is, so he's not sure what he's supposed to say. He doesn't give a fuck about him or pirating for damn sure.

Instead, he falls to the logical back up, and his fingers tighten to find themselves wrapped around the neck of a new bottle. The other remains on the grass nearby. Sweeney sets to opening it and is relieved once the task is done. He tips the bottle to her in a vague gesture of toasting.

"Fuckin' over." To that, they seem to agree.

[allgotrabies]

"And we'll never have to go there again," she says, saluting him with a cigarette. "...How often do you sleep?"

[madaboutit]

He knows what she means, but she's just wrong. He'll go there again. Countless times feel the ache, the fear, the desperate relief when he feels the touch of that sleek fur against his fingertips. Sweeney frowns and studies the grass.

It takes the question longer than it should to process. He shrugs, not looking up to her as he gently rubs a blade of grass.

"Fuck if I know. Ain't somethin' I schedule."