"Yeah," he agrees weakly. He keeps the cookies in hand in case she wants one to assuage the confusion, annoyance, or upset. "I really thought I'd have more time. I'm still a weird, shitty person. Shouldn't I be-- not that?" Wen Ning didn't seem to think so, but Wen Ning is also biased in weird ways.
"Who the fuck knows how the Admiral's thought process works?" It comes out a little rough, and she blinks back a hot prickle in the corners of her eyes. A part of her is tempted to turn and walk right back out the door, like if she's not here, he can't say goodbye, can't go back to his own world and kill himself all over again for something that isn't his fault.
But only the first part of that is true. If she walks away, it won't stop him from leaving. It will just leave them with everything unsaid. So she swallows hard past the lump in her throat and says, "Put those down for a minute."
She's either going to hit him or hug him, he thinks. He decides he'll let her do either one, so he sets the cookies back down on the desk to let her have her way.
She doesn't hit him. She does wrap her arms around him, almost punishingly tight, and tuck her forehead against his shoulder as she fights back tears, not entirely successfully.
Okay. Hug is better than hitting. He puts his around her, back, at first tentatively, like he thinks she's going to leap away as soon as he does. He's not a hundred percent sure if she's crying, so he doesn't mention it. He just slowly turns his hug tighter, when she doesn't let go immediately, and says with uncertain hope, "Does this mean you don't hate me because I'm technically a warden now?" He knows how she feels about wardens.
How she feels about wardens as a class has never quite been reflected in how she feels about individual wardens, and so it takes a moment for the question to sink in. She utters a hiccuping little laugh, and says, words a bit muffled because she hasn't yet lifted her head, "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I don't hate you. I just am going to miss you."
She really is crying. Oh man. He has no idea what to do with that. "Well. You don't need to miss me yet. I'm not going anywhere. I need a deal before I go back." He squeezes a little. "And anyway, if you think I'm leaving here until you're free to go, too, or disappeared entirely, you're nuts."
"Wait - you're staying? You're taking a deal?" There's a moment in which she actually is tempted to smack him, but she settles for hugging him even tighter instead.
It might be necessary to remind her that oxygen is still a thing that people need.
About 50% because he's a teenager and 50% because his mun is mean and deliberately kept him from mentioning it two tags ago so we could have this emotional moment.
Chase rears back a little-- not letting go, but looking down at her. "I don't know! It felt a little weird to lead with, hi, I'm not planning on dying anymore? Also, ow, you might break my ribs. I bet you could do that but I don't think you mean to right now?"
There's another ragged laugh. "Not without actually hitting you," she says, but her grip loosens, and she lifts her head to stare up at him with damp eyes. "You're really staying on the ship?"
"I'm really staying on the ship," Chase promises, looking back down at her seriously. When she's this close, it kind of surprises him how short she is. She looms so large in his head. "Got to save my parents, or fix my magic, or some combination of both, I don't know yet. And I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't gonna leave you here. That'd make me a shitty friend."
"It would make you someone with a functional self-preservation instinct," she counters, because the Barge is the Barge, and there's probably something awful on the horizon to offset the fact that the last flood was really only able to cause emotional wounds.
"But I'm glad you're staying. Both because I'm glad you are giving yourself a chance, and because I'm very selfish and I'm not ready to say goodbye."
"Yeah, well, we already know my self-preservation instinct is a little shaky," Chase says. Even though he's already said he's aiming to not die, now, if he can't joke about it, what even can he do with it? "If that's selfish, than I probably am, too. I miss my parents. But I'd miss you, too."
He pauses, just a breath, then just blurts out , "Come back with me. The house is big enough. I can make up something to tell my parents, about you, to make them let you stay. My long-lost sister from my birth mom or something."
Yelena blinks up at him in surprise for a moment, then smiles a little ruefully. "You know, you are the third person to offer to let me come home with them. I didn't think I was that much of a lost little puppy."
"You're not, I'm just being as selfish as you are and don't want to not see you again, even when we're done here," Chase shrugs. "Besides, the house is really big. We've got lots of room."
"I think if you showed up with a much older Russian sister, your parents would think I'm a con artist trying to get my hands in your trust fund." Her arms tighten briefly around him, as though to offset the criticism of that particular cover story. "I am not saying no. The only plan I have for if I graduate is a very limited engagement. But it is something we would both have to think over."
"They might be so happy I'm not being a brat anymore and made a friend that they won't care," Chase says airily, not offended. "Besides, you know how to not sound Russian, I absolutely heard you do that during the music festival." He loosens his arms a little, aiming to at least sit down, even if she wants to come with him when he does. Emotions are tiring.
She lets him go when he loosens his hold, and steps back, reading it as a signal to give him a little space.
"I do," she says, and it's in the muted Ohio accent he'd heard at the festival. "And I won't even pretend I can't do it long-term." She pauses a moment, and gives him an impish grin that almost offsets the reddish rims of her eyes and faint dampness of her lashes. "--How much do you think it'd freak people out if I just decided to talk like this all the time here?"
"A whole lot. You should totally do it and make people wonder if you got possessed or replaced by a changeling or something," Chase says. He flops back to sit on his bed, breathing out a sigh of relief. She's not mad. She's at least nominally okay with it. He's a goddamn warden.
Then he pats the bed for her to sit with him. "I have no idea how I'm going to do this," he complains. "I only like about two people on this ship and I can't be a warden for either one."
She drops down next to him with a quiet thump, scrubbing the last of the dampness from her lashes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You wouldn't want to be a warden for me anyway," she says. "I'm a terrible inmate. Anyone who actively wants to graduate would be much better. But from what I can see, the place most people fuck up is not learning who their inmate is before trying to create a strategy."
"I can count the number of inmates who actually want to graduate on one hand, probably," Chase counters, but he's not discounting her, either. "I don't know what kind of strategy I'd come up with for anyone, whether I knew them or not. I don't think Wen Ning's strategy was more than 'feed him and be nice'. He told me I should feed people. Or get them books. Or offer swimming lessons."
He does not see how any of that will help someone graduate. Or even like him.
"I think there's more than that," Yelena says. "The inmates who actually like this place, you can probably count on one hand without using all the fingers, but even if they aren't looking for redemption, most people want a way out more than they want to give the finger to the Admiral."
Or to just - stop.
"Books may not be a bad angle, depending on the person. It's sometimes hard to find a quiet spot in the library."
It isn't, but the place is more populated than she might have expected when she first arrived.
"It will depend on the person. It's probably a horrible betrayal of my nonexistent principles, but once you have someone, I can help you strategize."
"I'm probably going to need the help," Chase says glumly. He's good at observing, and at pretending to be somebody else, but looking back at his plans, he's really not as great at those. "So if you're offering, I'll take it. Hopefully I wind up with someone I don't hate, and you don't think is too stupid to live."
"I'd say that's not a very tall order, but we're both very judgmental people." She bumps his arm lightly with her shoulder. "In the meantime, get to know your temps. None of the ones I had ever had more than one conversation with me after we were paired. Norton was at least useful, but I would have not been very impressed if I was assigned to any of them permanently."
"Even the ones who aren't at all interested in getting to know me?" he asks. "Because I honestly wanted nothing to do with mine for the most part." Though, yeah, the couple of ones he had been interested in had totally blown him off, which had pissed him off.
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But only the first part of that is true. If she walks away, it won't stop him from leaving. It will just leave them with everything unsaid. So she swallows hard past the lump in her throat and says, "Put those down for a minute."
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It might be necessary to remind her that oxygen is still a thing that people need.
"Why didn't you lead with this?"
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Chase rears back a little-- not letting go, but looking down at her. "I don't know! It felt a little weird to lead with, hi, I'm not planning on dying anymore? Also, ow, you might break my ribs. I bet you could do that but I don't think you mean to right now?"
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"But I'm glad you're staying. Both because I'm glad you are giving yourself a chance, and because I'm very selfish and I'm not ready to say goodbye."
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He pauses, just a breath, then just blurts out , "Come back with me. The house is big enough. I can make up something to tell my parents, about you, to make them let you stay. My long-lost sister from my birth mom or something."
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"I do," she says, and it's in the muted Ohio accent he'd heard at the festival. "And I won't even pretend I can't do it long-term." She pauses a moment, and gives him an impish grin that almost offsets the reddish rims of her eyes and faint dampness of her lashes. "--How much do you think it'd freak people out if I just decided to talk like this all the time here?"
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Then he pats the bed for her to sit with him. "I have no idea how I'm going to do this," he complains. "I only like about two people on this ship and I can't be a warden for either one."
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She drops down next to him with a quiet thump, scrubbing the last of the dampness from her lashes with the sleeve of her shirt. "You wouldn't want to be a warden for me anyway," she says. "I'm a terrible inmate. Anyone who actively wants to graduate would be much better. But from what I can see, the place most people fuck up is not learning who their inmate is before trying to create a strategy."
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He does not see how any of that will help someone graduate. Or even like him.
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Or to just - stop.
"Books may not be a bad angle, depending on the person. It's sometimes hard to find a quiet spot in the library."
It isn't, but the place is more populated than she might have expected when she first arrived.
"It will depend on the person. It's probably a horrible betrayal of my nonexistent principles, but once you have someone, I can help you strategize."
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