[The problem is, Henry doesn't want to be worried and careful. She's tired of it; she doesn't want to add another worst case scenario to the pile when she already carries worry and caution everywhere with her, whether sleeping or waking, like two cement shoes around her ankles. And in their time together she's felt both for him--but she's worked hard not to line him up in the crosshairs as something to worry and be cautious about.
She doesn't want that.
And she's not alone in not quite knowing how to relieve Peter of his burden once and for all, despite a town full of occult experts. The familiar sound of Peter expounding on maybes and what ifs seems to deflate her, and she releases a breath through her nose, lips pressed into a tight line. Nikolai had taught her that no matter the harm her abilities had caused, they were ultimately controllable. Knowable. Not so for Peter. If anything, he's struggling to keep himself in check more now than he was when he first crash landed on her lawn.
In spite of the evil, unnatural, unknowable nature of his demon and how far from control he must be feeling to talk about his own death in terms of contingencies, here he is, being worried and careful for her instead of himself.
She hates it. Hates that he has to dangle over this precipice with a rage he never seems to show for himself.]
Fine. [Conceded low and soft because she doesn't have the heart add an argument to his pile.] I'll remember.
[The exorcist's name, anyway. She'll do that much, but that's all she'll give sway to. They're not going into this preparing for him to crack like an egg and hatch a demon king.
Without warning, Henry walks around to his side of the coffee table.]
no subject
She doesn't want that.
And she's not alone in not quite knowing how to relieve Peter of his burden once and for all, despite a town full of occult experts. The familiar sound of Peter expounding on maybes and what ifs seems to deflate her, and she releases a breath through her nose, lips pressed into a tight line. Nikolai had taught her that no matter the harm her abilities had caused, they were ultimately controllable. Knowable. Not so for Peter. If anything, he's struggling to keep himself in check more now than he was when he first crash landed on her lawn.
In spite of the evil, unnatural, unknowable nature of his demon and how far from control he must be feeling to talk about his own death in terms of contingencies, here he is, being worried and careful for her instead of himself.
She hates it. Hates that he has to dangle over this precipice with a rage he never seems to show for himself.]
Fine. [Conceded low and soft because she doesn't have the heart add an argument to his pile.] I'll remember.
[The exorcist's name, anyway. She'll do that much, but that's all she'll give sway to. They're not going into this preparing for him to crack like an egg and hatch a demon king.
Without warning, Henry walks around to his side of the coffee table.]
Stand up.