[Instinctively, Baren pulls away from the touch. Touch that is imposed on him, not invited, not in his terms - that sets him off worse and makes him retreat. Still, it works to do what Fawkes wanted - he comes crashing back to reality, letting it dawn on him that he still has no defenses against these memories or hallucinations or whatever they are. His well-crafted poker face does nothing to save him from this.
So he takes a second, calculating.
Unlike himself, Fawkes doesn't push. He offers, because he's someone much kinder than Baren. Much more understanding, more considerate, more sincerely good that doesn't treat people like pawns.
The kind of person that Baren should stop associating with so he doesn't tear them up.
That's what he should do, if he was a less selfish person.
"Should" being the keyword.
Instead Baren levels a look at Fawkes, intense and searching the other's gaze for any type of deceit. Judgment.]
[This time, when Baren pulls away, Fawkes doesn't follow. His hands find their way into his pockets instead, which is better than letting them just hang idle at his sides, and also lets him wrap his fingers around the lighter he's kept in the depths of his pocket for some time now without ever being able to explain why. He doesn't smoke, no, but once he'd had a friend who could throw fire from his hands, and maybe he's just always thought that someday one of those strikes of the flint will set off another memory about him, somehow.
He was the aggressor, he remembers telling Rosalind. There was a fight, and the one with the fire was the aggressor; he was in the wrong somehow, though he can't place how. And yet he remembers that same friend standing next to him, looking down from on high on the lip of the roof of a building, and knowing with absolute certainty that the danger was below and looking up, not idling at his side.
But then comes the question, the look. Then comes the searching scrutiny, the probing gaze that ought to make him feel like he's been put under a microscope, and yet somehow just leaves him feeling calm.
There are times when the truth will cut where a lie might soothe, and yet in the grand scheme of things the lies are always worse in the end.]
I do.
[He says, softly.]
But I think when you do, you do it with a reason. More reason than you like to let on.
[Baren's head tilts and he doesn't have to speak to convey his confusion, the way that he immediately wonders 'Is that what you think of me?'
It's not what most people think - and he knows that. Most people assume that Baren causes chaos and doesn't care about who gets hurt in the pursuit of having fun. That's what his memory implies too. Not just him, but even his sister. The way that they'll burn their way through places and people just to watch the fire rage from somewhere comfortable later on. Some part of him wonders if that's the truth.
Another part of him wants to hope that Fawkes is right.
Still, instead the calm slips back into place - and Baren lets a small smile play across his lips as he chooses to ignore the discomfort that still resounds through him. If he doesn't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist. That's healthy coping. Mind over matter.]
Hah... Did you say that because you're a bad liar? Or because you'd prefer I know I'm cruel?
I think it's naive to pretend as though it isn't a natural or even rational impulse. Hurting someone before they can hurt you. Hurting someone because someone else hurt you. Hurting someone because you're afraid. I think deliberate cruelty is actually a fairly small subset of the ways to answer a question about hurting someone.
[He pauses a second, mulling over something.]
But for what it's worth, I think you're more of an open flame than anything else. Fire isn't inherently malicious; it just burns.
[He shrugs again.]
Sometimes that makes it dangerous. Sometimes it's a welcome addition to a dark night.
[Even if he's not wrong. He's still not wrong - or maybe that's just what Baren wants to believe.
Regardless, it's not like him to be vulnerable or to be worried. Even as his memories stack up and he continues to think that this is just who he is, that sort of rampant cruelty that would naturally earn the hatred of others. No wonder he and his sister were shunned. He wonders if it's still a bad thing - to continue living as he does and just waiting for the inevitable.]
You're a smart one, Kitty Kat.
[But he'll leave it at that, shrugging in turn and then dancing around so that he can face right in front of Fawkes, grinning brightly again]
More importantly, how about that light show, huh? Maybe next time I should shoot them over the city - more people will get to enjoy them that way!
Because launching them over the city skyline wouldn't be illegal at all.
[Honestly, it's difficult to land on a specific emotion here, because there are two warring ones competing for primacy — the same dry exasperation that seems to be his natural counterpoint to Baren's antics, and a very small spark of genuine warmth to see that he seems to be perking up as the quiet grasp of the hallucinomemory slowly recedes.]
At least I can validly say that sparks flew on our date — and that there were definitely fireworks.
[Like Baren said - if you're not laughing, you're not living. It makes him feel better in its own way when Fawkes' words manage to surprise a laugh out of him and the light in his eyes is more natural then even as he doesn't hesitate to invade the other's personal space. He takes a step closer, curious and daring.]
You think?
I wonder if I can still impress you more than that, Foxy.
I suppose that depends, doesn't it? On two things, really —
[He watches Baren calmly as he starts his invasion, keeping his expression schooled but still not being able to entirely suppress the smile that's trying to play at the corners of his mouth.]
Whether you're an irresistible force, and whether I'm an immovable object.
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no subject
So he takes a second, calculating.
Unlike himself, Fawkes doesn't push. He offers, because he's someone much kinder than Baren. Much more understanding, more considerate, more sincerely good that doesn't treat people like pawns.
The kind of person that Baren should stop associating with so he doesn't tear them up.
That's what he should do, if he was a less selfish person.
"Should" being the keyword.
Instead Baren levels a look at Fawkes, intense and searching the other's gaze for any type of deceit. Judgment.]
Hey.
Do you think I'd hurt someone?
no subject
He was the aggressor, he remembers telling Rosalind. There was a fight, and the one with the fire was the aggressor; he was in the wrong somehow, though he can't place how. And yet he remembers that same friend standing next to him, looking down from on high on the lip of the roof of a building, and knowing with absolute certainty that the danger was below and looking up, not idling at his side.
But then comes the question, the look. Then comes the searching scrutiny, the probing gaze that ought to make him feel like he's been put under a microscope, and yet somehow just leaves him feeling calm.
There are times when the truth will cut where a lie might soothe, and yet in the grand scheme of things the lies are always worse in the end.]
I do.
[He says, softly.]
But I think when you do, you do it with a reason. More reason than you like to let on.
no subject
It's not what most people think - and he knows that. Most people assume that Baren causes chaos and doesn't care about who gets hurt in the pursuit of having fun. That's what his memory implies too. Not just him, but even his sister. The way that they'll burn their way through places and people just to watch the fire rage from somewhere comfortable later on. Some part of him wonders if that's the truth.
Another part of him wants to hope that Fawkes is right.
Still, instead the calm slips back into place - and Baren lets a small smile play across his lips as he chooses to ignore the discomfort that still resounds through him. If he doesn't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist. That's healthy coping. Mind over matter.]
Hah... Did you say that because you're a bad liar? Or because you'd prefer I know I'm cruel?
[A beat and then a snort.]
You don't have to answer that.
no subject
I think it's naive to pretend as though it isn't a natural or even rational impulse. Hurting someone before they can hurt you. Hurting someone because someone else hurt you. Hurting someone because you're afraid. I think deliberate cruelty is actually a fairly small subset of the ways to answer a question about hurting someone.
[He pauses a second, mulling over something.]
But for what it's worth, I think you're more of an open flame than anything else. Fire isn't inherently malicious; it just burns.
[He shrugs again.]
Sometimes that makes it dangerous. Sometimes it's a welcome addition to a dark night.
no subject
[Even if he's not wrong. He's still not wrong - or maybe that's just what Baren wants to believe.
Regardless, it's not like him to be vulnerable or to be worried. Even as his memories stack up and he continues to think that this is just who he is, that sort of rampant cruelty that would naturally earn the hatred of others. No wonder he and his sister were shunned. He wonders if it's still a bad thing - to continue living as he does and just waiting for the inevitable.]
You're a smart one, Kitty Kat.
[But he'll leave it at that, shrugging in turn and then dancing around so that he can face right in front of Fawkes, grinning brightly again]
More importantly, how about that light show, huh? Maybe next time I should shoot them over the city - more people will get to enjoy them that way!
no subject
[Honestly, it's difficult to land on a specific emotion here, because there are two warring ones competing for primacy — the same dry exasperation that seems to be his natural counterpoint to Baren's antics, and a very small spark of genuine warmth to see that he seems to be perking up as the quiet grasp of the hallucinomemory slowly recedes.]
At least I can validly say that sparks flew on our date — and that there were definitely fireworks.
no subject
[Like Baren said - if you're not laughing, you're not living. It makes him feel better in its own way when Fawkes' words manage to surprise a laugh out of him and the light in his eyes is more natural then even as he doesn't hesitate to invade the other's personal space. He takes a step closer, curious and daring.]
You think?
I wonder if I can still impress you more than that, Foxy.
no subject
[He watches Baren calmly as he starts his invasion, keeping his expression schooled but still not being able to entirely suppress the smile that's trying to play at the corners of his mouth.]
Whether you're an irresistible force, and whether I'm an immovable object.
no subject
[A fact, as far as Baren's concerned. What stays the same, that's too dull to keep his attention for long.]
no subject
[And there, again, the smile is threatening to grow, just a touch.]
Sometimes resisting and moving are two very different things.