He winces and bows his head to Pagan; he realizes how patronizing this might feel to him. How awkward it is to talk about his process between the two of them in front of him. But the words needed to be said.
"Of course, Pagan." No '-san' here. He feels they're just a bit beyond that point, after all. But either of them are welcome to notice.
"I've never discussed anything about you without you being there or knowing it," aside from relating to Alec a funny joke Pagan has said sometimes. "And I never will. That's why I wanted you both here."
He sets his mug down. "I'm sorry if this felt like an ambush, or that I was trying to talk over your head, Pagan. That's not what my intention was. I was trying to avoid that."
Again, he's quiet. Thinking. Kiryu gets a nod of acknowledgement, a brush of his fingers against his. Pagan does better with touch than words in this situations, when his words threaten to spin him out of control.
But he tries. "Well that is why I did say continue. This was less of an ambush than you might have thought, but it was certainly not the sort of lecture I wanted to find myself in."
He leans forward. "But here we are. Now I realize I've made - misjudgments in where I place my trust in the past. And I am trying to be cautious about it now. But this is good Lark. The only fucking good thing in my life, other than my stupid mutt of a warden. And I'd like to keep it around a while longer."
Because if it's going to blow up, he knows he's going to be the one to push the button.
Kiryu makes a decision to eschew words, which is why his hand will reach over and find Pagan's, intertwine and give a soft squeeze as he turns to look at Pagan. Find his eyes. Tell him as earnestly and honestly, with all of him: Pagan means just as much to him. And for every similar reasons.
He won't stay there long, just long enough for Pagan to hopefully 'hear' him before he turns to Lark and bows his head.
"I am sorry, Lark-san. I didn't mean to ignore the meal you provided. It smells very good."
Pagan does hear him in all the ways he needs to, and he nods his head once in acknowledgement. "Eat," he encourages him softly. "I swear to god, I am surrounded by people who don't appreciate good meals." It is not exactly what's happening, but he's trying to lighten the mood. "Ajay never did, either. And look where he ended up. Traipsing through the goddamn jungle."
He gives him a bit of a nudge, but brightens at Lark's mention of meeting with Alec.
"And whose requirement is that? Yours? I seem to be living a lot by what you want, Lark Tennant. Maybe I want to meet with Alec alone again so I can continue to just talk shit about you."
Kiryu will either break whatever tension remains or make things a whole different kind of awkward, because once he starts eating, it's more than a little like a starving dog. The food is going to get scarfed down at an alarming rate, despite the fact that his mouth stays mostly clean and his suit is immaculate.
Someone grew up in an orphanage and spent far too many years in jail and it all very much shows.
Kiryu cleans his plate just in time to look up at the two of them. He’s content to listen to them talk, though. He doesn’t know a Steve, so he doesn’t have much to contribute. He’s going to very slowly reach over for a little more bread.
Pagan reaches an arm around, resting it casually on the back of Kiryu's chair.
"Speaking directly as someone on the other side - I'm not certain. Sometimes you simply must let it happen." He doesn't know if he could have been talked down. Stopped, yes. But he would have found something else to do. Some other way.
"Have you met Steve? Big American? Blonde. Looks like everyone's big, damn hero?" he asks Kiryu.
Pagan actually doesn't mind Steve at all. They simply existed around Lark together. But they couldn't be more different.
He starts to shake his head, and then he pauses as he thinks back. There is a man who matches that description. But that's not the name he gave him.
"I don't think so, no. The only person I've met who sounds like that is Cap-san. He works in the cafeteria for lunch."
He glances at Lark, and he'd intended to bring up his idea for the occasional injection of guest cooks for the food there, but Lark looks a little frustrated and the situation is unfortunate, from everything he's hearing.
He looks to Lark.
"I'm sorry for your friend. It's difficult sometimes, in a normal world, to feel as if you have no way out. Here, I imagine it would be much worse." A dip of his head. "I hope he sees you there for him sooner rather than later."
"That's him. His nickname is Cap. Captain America." He feels a twinge of hope and grinds it under his heel. "He hasn't used it in years, though, as far as I know."
He smirks at Pagan's reaction. "He was made into a superhero during World War II. He was inspirational propaganda personified. But he never saw it that way, I don't think. He wanted to actually live those ideals. He did a damn good job of it."
It's so hard to talk about Steve. He knew the man when he was at his best. He had a hand in tearing that same man down to the angry loner that haunts the ship now.
"Kiryu, if he's calling himself Cap to you, I have to think it's a good sign. Maybe he's begun to believe he can be an inspiration again."
He doesn't. What he does do is refrain from rolling his eyes. He stands up, taking his glass to the kitchen to fill with water so he can sigh in peace. He considers that a step up from where he started.
"I thought that it might be nice if wardens, and inmates who would feel inclined," he's not forgetting them, he just didn't want them to feel pressured, "could help with cooking a dish they happen to know well every so often. The idea was to allow people to share their favorite meals with others, and to increase the variety of dishes occasionally without putting undo strain on the kitchen staff."
"I actually tried to put something like that together a few years ago, when I first started kitchen work. People are surprisingly reluctant to talk about simple pleasures... or maybe because I was an inmate with a reputation, they just didn't want to tell me." He smiles, a little crooked. "You're better at getting quick answers than I am, I think. If you can get people on board I'd be happy to have them."
Lark is physically incapable of getting tired of food, and the thought of a new item sparks his interest immediately. "Of course. What meal do you have in mind?"
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"Of course, Pagan." No '-san' here. He feels they're just a bit beyond that point, after all. But either of them are welcome to notice.
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He sets his mug down. "I'm sorry if this felt like an ambush, or that I was trying to talk over your head, Pagan. That's not what my intention was. I was trying to avoid that."
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But he tries. "Well that is why I did say continue. This was less of an ambush than you might have thought, but it was certainly not the sort of lecture I wanted to find myself in."
He leans forward. "But here we are. Now I realize I've made - misjudgments in where I place my trust in the past. And I am trying to be cautious about it now. But this is good Lark. The only fucking good thing in my life, other than my stupid mutt of a warden. And I'd like to keep it around a while longer."
Because if it's going to blow up, he knows he's going to be the one to push the button.
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He won't stay there long, just long enough for Pagan to hopefully 'hear' him before he turns to Lark and bows his head.
"I am sorry, Lark-san. I didn't mean to ignore the meal you provided. It smells very good."
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"You realize I am required to have you both spend time with Alec and me next."
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He gives him a bit of a nudge, but brightens at Lark's mention of meeting with Alec.
"And whose requirement is that? Yours? I seem to be living a lot by what you want, Lark Tennant. Maybe I want to meet with Alec alone again so I can continue to just talk shit about you."
He would never.
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Someone grew up in an orphanage and spent far too many years in jail and it all very much shows.
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"I'm taking this as a compliment."
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"You should, honestly."
He picks at his own food, though mostly because his own emotional roller coaster put him off his appetite. Nothing personal.
But then he notices-
"Did Steve move out?"
Pagan has been in 101 since that happened. He has simply not noticed until now.
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"Yes. I used to be able to talk to him, to reason with him, but... what can you do when someone is determined to self-destruct."
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"Speaking directly as someone on the other side - I'm not certain. Sometimes you simply must let it happen." He doesn't know if he could have been talked down. Stopped, yes. But he would have found something else to do. Some other way.
"Have you met Steve? Big American? Blonde. Looks like everyone's big, damn hero?" he asks Kiryu.
Pagan actually doesn't mind Steve at all. They simply existed around Lark together. But they couldn't be more different.
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"I don't think so, no. The only person I've met who sounds like that is Cap-san. He works in the cafeteria for lunch."
He glances at Lark, and he'd intended to bring up his idea for the occasional injection of guest cooks for the food there, but Lark looks a little frustrated and the situation is unfortunate, from everything he's hearing.
He looks to Lark.
"I'm sorry for your friend. It's difficult sometimes, in a normal world, to feel as if you have no way out. Here, I imagine it would be much worse." A dip of his head. "I hope he sees you there for him sooner rather than later."
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"That's him. His nickname is Cap. Captain America." He feels a twinge of hope and grinds it under his heel. "He hasn't used it in years, though, as far as I know."
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Captain. Fucking. America.
Dear god.
He closes his mouth. Says nothing about it. Well, sort of.
"Imagine that," is all he manages.
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"...America has a captain?"
One for the whole country?
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It's so hard to talk about Steve. He knew the man when he was at his best. He had a hand in tearing that same man down to the angry loner that haunts the ship now.
"Kiryu, if he's calling himself Cap to you, I have to think it's a good sign. Maybe he's begun to believe he can be an inspiration again."
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Wholesome.
Pagan wants to stab himself with his fork.
He doesn't. What he does do is refrain from rolling his eyes. He stands up, taking his glass to the kitchen to fill with water so he can sigh in peace. He considers that a step up from where he started.
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"He seemed very lost," he observes quietly, "and very tired." He gestures to the kitchen before he looks back to Lark.
"I mentioned an idea to him, actually, and he said I should speak to you. You work in the kitchen?"
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He doesn't look back at Pagan, preferring to take his absence as a blessing. He saw that expression.
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"If you would allow, I'd be the first contributor."
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"I could make it with chicken or just with vegetables to make sure everyone had an option."
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