Lark can't help the smile, and he kicks his toes against Tommy's shoe. "Yeah. When she's around, it's obvious. And when she's not, you look almost as if you're not expecting the ship to slam down on you. I know--again, I really do--that nothing about Grace, or what it was like, is easy. But is it really difficult being around Rey?"
This is why he came to Lark: because he knows the man can be a romantic, and more importantly has experienced the destruction of love firsthand.
And somehow, Lark also found something new. So would it really be so awful, he wonders, to let someone else in, however tentatively?
He shakes his head, lets out a soft sigh. "No. It's easy. She understands me, and I understand her. When something happens, we keep-- accidentally doing the right things."
Lark chuckles; that's the trick of it. Granted, he and Alec have a rocky relationship and have from day one, but most of the time they somehow, miraculously, manage to do the right things.
"Like what? What have you done right by accident?"
"During the flood," he starts, thinking back. "She wasn't affected, but I was. And it kicked in right-- we were locked in the Enclosure. We were right in there, and we had a black-out and I--"
He stops, and tries to think of the right way to say this. But Lark has seen his nightmares, has seen the very, very worst parts of him. "It was like being in a nightmare, for a few minutes. And she did just the right things, and I could feel what that did to her because of the flood."
The story isn't done yet, but he'll pause to see if Lark understands.
His first thought is: thank God she wasn't affected. Lark had sat with Tommy and has heard enough that even he, with all his innate savagery, gets chills sometimes if he thinks too much about what Tommy went through.
But secondly, he smiles, a little sad (because what an awful way to bond with someone, what a horrible thing it is to let someone see you vulnerable without you planning it). But also pleased for him.
He pauses because his immediate question is about Rey, her history, and he can't imagine those are things Tommy would share easily. Lark wouldn't, if the situation was reversed and they were talking about a certain someone else.
"When I was with you, you were detoxing. And waking out of that is, I imagine, very different from coming out of a flashback. Did you recognize her right away when it stopped?"
"The right things to do," Lark guesses softly. "I've never had anything like that. Not with anyone but Tati and that was...detox."
Which was a vulnerable of its own kind. It was not what Tommy is describing--or rather, what he's reluctant to describe too much. Which Lark understands, even if it's not for identical reasons.
He has more he wants to know, but Lark almost always prefers to let the conversation flow where it may. In this case: wherever it goes will be due to whatever Tommy can share.
"Good." Lark smiles, relieved despite not being surprised. "If she had, you and I would be having a very different conversation now. Tell me about her?"
"What else do you like about her? Things she does, skills, interests?" Which is really just a way to get Tommy talking, and to let the rest come as it may.
That-- makes the smile turn into an incredulous laugh, but it isn't disbelieving. "Bloody hell, Lark. You just say it like that, it makes me sound crazy. When the fuck were you last happy?"
"You mean before here?" He makes it sound like a joke. But honestly? It's been years. Instead of saying that, he shrugs. "You know, my country believes in the pursuit of happiness as a fundamental right. But it turns out, first you have to preserve your own life and pursue your own liberty. I only have one of those figured out."
"I'm rich," Lark shrugs, "I was born rich enough. And I can tell you we're not happy, either. Our kids scream just as loud. Our women gulp down pills, our men have tight fists looking for a small cheek to break."
It's as casually said as if he were assuring Tommy that rain falls in his world, too.
He shrugs, vaguely-- that's so normal that it doesn't even register. He doesn't know anyone who didn't grow up that way, and finds it slightly unbelievable when people say they haven't.
It's not something he would admit to most people. But he doesn't think Tommy will give a damn the way someone else might, and sometimes it's easier to talk to a wall than to share with a sympathetic ear. Lark is a miserable person if he doesn't work very hard not to be, and it completely ruins the effect if he admits that he has to work so much harder than other people just to enjoy being alive.
"No. Not really. There have been fleeting moments, but they're easy to forget." He shrugs. Lark has made himself forget most of them. "But I am here sometimes. Not all the time, you'd have to be a complete idiot to be happy more than one day a week. But it's more than I can remember being happy my whole life as a human."
He shifts in his chair and crosses his legs at the knee, considering that.
It's important. It is- to someone like Lark, who is so intrinsically against everything that the Barge stands for, who thought he'd never graduate... it sounds like he might have at least some chance, now. It's important, but Tommy tries not to get too excited just yet.
"What does that mean to you, then? That you attained that here?"
"That...I need to remember to adapt. It's the only way to keep my species from extinction." He says, but that's the easy answer, and he offers a weak smile. "And that there are people here whose example is rubbing off on me. At home, I am the example."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
This is why he came to Lark: because he knows the man can be a romantic, and more importantly has experienced the destruction of love firsthand.
And somehow, Lark also found something new. So would it really be so awful, he wonders, to let someone else in, however tentatively?
He shakes his head, lets out a soft sigh. "No. It's easy. She understands me, and I understand her. When something happens, we keep-- accidentally doing the right things."
no subject
"Like what? What have you done right by accident?"
no subject
He stops, and tries to think of the right way to say this. But Lark has seen his nightmares, has seen the very, very worst parts of him. "It was like being in a nightmare, for a few minutes. And she did just the right things, and I could feel what that did to her because of the flood."
The story isn't done yet, but he'll pause to see if Lark understands.
no subject
But secondly, he smiles, a little sad (because what an awful way to bond with someone, what a horrible thing it is to let someone see you vulnerable without you planning it). But also pleased for him.
"Tell me what it was like?"
no subject
no subject
"When I was with you, you were detoxing. And waking out of that is, I imagine, very different from coming out of a flashback. Did you recognize her right away when it stopped?"
no subject
He hides his expression behind his glass, because this is complicated, this is the beginnings of something deep as well as the complete fear of war.
no subject
Which was a vulnerable of its own kind. It was not what Tommy is describing--or rather, what he's reluctant to describe too much. Which Lark understands, even if it's not for identical reasons.
He has more he wants to know, but Lark almost always prefers to let the conversation flow where it may. In this case: wherever it goes will be due to whatever Tommy can share.
no subject
"In any case- she didn't know I'd felt those things. I didn't know about the flood until we got out, so I thought she had a right to know."
no subject
no subject
"Did she understand why I--?" He frowns a little, then nods in answer.
"I don't think she knows from experience, but she understood. She didn't make me feel like I..."
Like he was weak for it.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
After a pause he shrugs helplessly and shakes his head. "I guess I just want to know we're not crazy for being able to be happy, Tommy."
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Well, where I'm from only the rich and high-born can expect happiness," he points out. "The rest of us are smarter than that."
cw: vague mention of child abuse
It's as casually said as if he were assuring Tommy that rain falls in his world, too.
cw: vague mention of child abuse
"So you don't think you've been happy."
no subject
"No. Not really. There have been fleeting moments, but they're easy to forget." He shrugs. Lark has made himself forget most of them. "But I am here sometimes. Not all the time, you'd have to be a complete idiot to be happy more than one day a week. But it's more than I can remember being happy my whole life as a human."
no subject
It's important. It is- to someone like Lark, who is so intrinsically against everything that the Barge stands for, who thought he'd never graduate... it sounds like he might have at least some chance, now. It's important, but Tommy tries not to get too excited just yet.
"What does that mean to you, then? That you attained that here?"
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)