That's just fine; she had waited to do this until she was sure she was prepared to do so, up to and including tidying her cabin (not that it needed much of it, given that she's a bit of a neat freak) and putting the electric kettle on before she even texted him.
She's even put her look together for maximum effect: she looks less like the sweet, soft, young Nina she usually puts before him and more like a fellow lawyer. Preferably one on his side of the courtroom, but if necessary...
Well, she's hoping it won't be. She mirrors his smile and ushers him in. "Would you like some tea?"
Lark is dressed much more casually, having come from the library: expensive shirt, expensive jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket that resembles one that Alec has.
"Yes, thank you," he agrees. Tea is basically a flavorless beverage to him, but he loves the smell.
He watches her but bites his tongue, allowing her to take the lead on this.
If she notices the resemblance, it doesn't show a whit on her face. She just offers him the desk chair and goes to get the tea together. He might end up tasting this: she put it on well in advance so she could make it Russian-style, thick as tar and very, very strong. She hands him a cup, then draws the low-backed chair over from her vanity and sits down with her own.
"I want to talk about what happened in the infirmary," she says lightly, and raises her brows towards him in silent question. She doubts he really needs a recap, and so he's welcome to go first if he'd like to.
He does taste it, and the surprise of it cracks some of his well-honed neutrality. As a human (an American human raised on white bread and cheese made from oil, no less) he might have found it to be too much. As a wolf, he craves strong flavors, and this is heaven.
But the little smile vanishes when she speaks and he just watches her as he takes another sip. "I think everyone involved misinterpreted most of what happened there," he says, but that's as much as he's willing to offer.
"I know that my end of things is almost impossible to explain to a human. Or a transgenic," Lark says, which is a part of why he hasn't even tried, not even with Alec. "But I was human once and I know how it could look."
"Because I don't care what he does with you. It's none of my business." And he means this. "I was protecting him the same way I've had his back before because he never told me to treat you any differently. I had no idea he even cared about you."
There's a hint of a narrowing of her eyes, but only that, although she does sip her tea to stall as she works through that response -- and her own response to it.
Does he mean it to hurt? she wonders. Is it a way of putting her in her place? The facts alone are the facts; she doesn't talk to anyone about Alec either, and she's sure that even her best friends don't know about him, much less how much she loves him. But that being true and Lark saying it to her are two different things. Besides: there are things he does know, like Tristan, or like the way they'd hidden her together during her coma.
She breathes in slow and breathes out the righteous anger rising in her throat, setting her tea back down. "Now you know," she says evenly. The rest, what happened before this moment, doesn't need to matter. It's what happens next that matters.
And even without any anger at all, she can safely say that she is not letting anyone else put her anywhere anymore. "If you can be respectful, there is no problem here. I don't care what he does when he is not with me, either."
He stifles a sound that might have been a laugh, and the look he gives her is appraising, like the look he'd give a very bold lamb wandering too near the forest. But he shakes his head as if to clear away an impulse and he sets his cup down. "Good. Well, if that's settled, I should let you get back to your evening."
He sighs and tips his head back, then looks at her.
"Nina, until you contacted me I was fine with a polite nod in the hallway and some small talk. I have no problem with you, I even like you, I'm just not interested in sitting here to discuss a love triangle that's going to end the moment one of us graduates. Which could be any day now, if you think about it. If you care at all about graduating, you should consider my offer of small talk and smiles, because I will drag you and him down with me otherwise." A soft smile. Alec and Nina have both made leaps and bounds forward, and he's happy for them, even now. But he's not interested in following them.
"I'm sorry I upset you, especially in the Infirmary. I truly didn't mean to. But I'm not interested in trying to hammer the three of us together like we're sharing. We aren't. We're just three people who are too lonely to know better, so we're killing time the best way we know how and then someday we'll go back to our lives and this will all be a strange interlude. And that's if you're one of the Admiral's favorites. If I get sent back home again instead of graduating, I won't remember you. Or him. So you understand my hesitance to pour more of myself in than I have to."
Well, she'll give him credit for this: it's not the response she was expecting, and she had prepared for several possibilities. This one, she has to sit with for a moment.
Her first thought is that he's wrong. She disagrees with him on pretty much all of this, from his characterization of their situation with Alec to his attitude about the Barge, and even his claims about himself. She'd seen quite a bit what he was like in the infirmary, even if she hadn't seen everything; she does not for a moment believe that he's as above-it-all as he would like to claim he is.
Her second thought is that none of that matters, either. Especially if he does happen to be right about the fact that she's better off having very little to do with him. She likes him, too, and she's never had any interest in being at odds with him -- not over Alec, not over anything -- but she's never fully trusted him, never fully become his friend. His opinions don't need to matter. All that matters is what he does with them.
"If this is all you want," she says, crossing her legs, sipping her tea, "then nothing I've asked should be a problem for you. You treat me with respect, and I will do the same." She lets out a soft sound that isn't quite derision, adjusting her skirt idly. "I think you know very well what this does and does not look like."
Telling her to knock it off: not on her list. Pretending to stifle a laugh and leering at her like a prey animal: also not on the list. Generally being an asshole: just really not on the list at all.
"We're acquaintances." He looks at her to be sure she understands. "Small talk. Smiles. That's all."
Because the truth is that Lark has no further use for her. He could dream one up, but not with Alec to trip over. She's not worth fighting Alec over. Unfortunately, this means that she reverts to being prey in a very literal sense. She smells like warm blood and soft flesh to him now; the perfume he'd once focused on doesn't even register.
He has a much tighter hold on his instincts than most wolves, but some things even Lark can't fight. And some things, he's been losing the fight over since he killed T'Pol.
"I need to hear you agree to what I asked you for," she says, still calm
and even, but firm. "Just as I said it."
As she sees it, of the two of them, he's the one that's had the most
difficulty with this already. She doesn't necessarily trust him to keep his
word, but she has nothing if he doesn't give it at all.
"Nina, if it came down to me needing something and you in the way, you know that I'd kill you. How is that respect?" Which is a quiet admission that he respects no one, but he also can't believe it's any surprise to her or anyone else.
"I can treat you kindly. I can stay out of your way. But if you're really going to try to walk me through repeating your words back to you so you can feel like you put me where you want me, good night."
Her posture tightens. Her expression, everything does. She sets her tea on
the desk and clasps her hands tightly in her lap.
But the funny thing is, she's not afraid of him, not really. She doesn't
want to die again, and she can't say the thought doesn't get the
adrenaline pumping, but it's not the all-consuming, panic-inducing
terror it used to be. He won't really kill her, not here. He'll
hurt her, and she'll survive it, and she'll find a way to be happy
again afterwards. And the truth is, if she had to, she would find a way to
do the same to him. She would find a way.
So her heart is beating faster, yes; her muscles are tight. But she doesn't
flinch. "I'm sorry is so hard for you to act like a gentleman, that
you think you have to threaten me for asking it of you," she says flatly.
"And that you are disturbing the peace you say you want. Nothing I ask
should be difficult -- and yet you tell me what to do, you talk down to me.
You laugh at me. You talk of liking me, being kind to me, and hurting me in
the same breath, and you think I should-- what? Say nothing, yes?"
She lifts her chin, giving him a disappointed look. "If nothing else, I
thought you were smarter than this. Nothing about this was necessary."
Burning bridges for no good reason, over nothing but apparent ego, seems
neither very lawyerly nor very leaderish. It seems like a stupid waste. She
would have still done a lot for him up until about five minutes ago; if he
continues down the path he's decided to put them on, she's not even going
to lift a finger to show him to the door. And for what?
And this is why he doesn't mind the thought of not being around her anymore: she's so very human and so naively fixed on the idea that his interactions must be human in nature, human in motive, as well. And she becomes more human every day, it seems. That's good for her, for her progress. But for any relationship between them, it's an axe.
That she would ever think of him as being a gentleman when he is actually just a werewolf. Like he said earlier: there's a reason he hasn't wasted his time trying to explain to her, or to Alec, or to anyone else.
"It's not a threat to say 'the dog bites', Nina," he says, dry, exasperated. Done. He gets to his feet, heads to the door. "You know where we stand now, right? If not, I'm sure we'll figure it out. Good night."
The dog bites. Oh, please, she thinks. It's like a vaguely more literal
version of the same excuse every rude, cruel, angry, and/or lecherous man
has ever given. It is genuinely a shame to her; even when she hadn't
trusted him she had more than respected him, even looked up to him, but
this truly seems like nothing more than a man showing his true and very
disappointing colors.
"This is a waste, Lark Tennant," she tells him in the same flat tone, maybe
a little tired and a little sad now. She's just so very sick of this, of
always coming to see people's worst, even when she wants to see
their best. She had liked him. What was the point of this? "I don't know
why you choose this way, but it is a waste."
And it is, and the sorrow creeps into her expression even as she says it --
but she does not stand for him, she does not take him to the door. Because
the truth is, even if this wasn't at all how or why she expected to be
here, this pain is one she'd prepared for, too. She's glad for it, now, or
she wouldn't be so calm at all. A part of her still wants to shout, but she
stays right where she is and picks up her tea. Once he's gone, she can use
her magic freely to perk it back up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
: [Private - Text]
[Private - Text]
[Private - Text]
I'll be there in a few minutes.
[And he is; if nothing else, Lark is punctual, even when the timeframe is as vague as what he set.
He knocks lightly, and he'll greet her with an easy, if rather polite, smile.]
no subject
She's even put her look together for maximum effect: she looks less like the sweet, soft, young Nina she usually puts before him and more like a fellow lawyer. Preferably one on his side of the courtroom, but if necessary...
Well, she's hoping it won't be. She mirrors his smile and ushers him in. "Would you like some tea?"
no subject
"Yes, thank you," he agrees. Tea is basically a flavorless beverage to him, but he loves the smell.
He watches her but bites his tongue, allowing her to take the lead on this.
no subject
"I want to talk about what happened in the infirmary," she says lightly, and raises her brows towards him in silent question. She doubts he really needs a recap, and so he's welcome to go first if he'd like to.
no subject
But the little smile vanishes when she speaks and he just watches her as he takes another sip. "I think everyone involved misinterpreted most of what happened there," he says, but that's as much as he's willing to offer.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Not even Alec's, really, although she worries about it -- and not at all only for her own sake.
no subject
no subject
But: "If you think this was a mistake, then tell me why."
no subject
no subject
Does he mean it to hurt? she wonders. Is it a way of putting her in her place? The facts alone are the facts; she doesn't talk to anyone about Alec either, and she's sure that even her best friends don't know about him, much less how much she loves him. But that being true and Lark saying it to her are two different things. Besides: there are things he does know, like Tristan, or like the way they'd hidden her together during her coma.
She breathes in slow and breathes out the righteous anger rising in her throat, setting her tea back down. "Now you know," she says evenly. The rest, what happened before this moment, doesn't need to matter. It's what happens next that matters.
And even without any anger at all, she can safely say that she is not letting anyone else put her anywhere anymore. "If you can be respectful, there is no problem here. I don't care what he does when he is not with me, either."
no subject
no subject
He's an adult. He's a smart adult. He knows exactly what he's doing.
no subject
"Nina, until you contacted me I was fine with a polite nod in the hallway and some small talk. I have no problem with you, I even like you, I'm just not interested in sitting here to discuss a love triangle that's going to end the moment one of us graduates. Which could be any day now, if you think about it. If you care at all about graduating, you should consider my offer of small talk and smiles, because I will drag you and him down with me otherwise." A soft smile. Alec and Nina have both made leaps and bounds forward, and he's happy for them, even now. But he's not interested in following them.
"I'm sorry I upset you, especially in the Infirmary. I truly didn't mean to. But I'm not interested in trying to hammer the three of us together like we're sharing. We aren't. We're just three people who are too lonely to know better, so we're killing time the best way we know how and then someday we'll go back to our lives and this will all be a strange interlude. And that's if you're one of the Admiral's favorites. If I get sent back home again instead of graduating, I won't remember you. Or him. So you understand my hesitance to pour more of myself in than I have to."
no subject
Her first thought is that he's wrong. She disagrees with him on pretty much all of this, from his characterization of their situation with Alec to his attitude about the Barge, and even his claims about himself. She'd seen quite a bit what he was like in the infirmary, even if she hadn't seen everything; she does not for a moment believe that he's as above-it-all as he would like to claim he is.
Her second thought is that none of that matters, either. Especially if he does happen to be right about the fact that she's better off having very little to do with him. She likes him, too, and she's never had any interest in being at odds with him -- not over Alec, not over anything -- but she's never fully trusted him, never fully become his friend. His opinions don't need to matter. All that matters is what he does with them.
"If this is all you want," she says, crossing her legs, sipping her tea, "then nothing I've asked should be a problem for you. You treat me with respect, and I will do the same." She lets out a soft sound that isn't quite derision, adjusting her skirt idly. "I think you know very well what this does and does not look like."
Telling her to knock it off: not on her list. Pretending to stifle a laugh and leering at her like a prey animal: also not on the list. Generally being an asshole: just really not on the list at all.
no subject
Because the truth is that Lark has no further use for her. He could dream one up, but not with Alec to trip over. She's not worth fighting Alec over. Unfortunately, this means that she reverts to being prey in a very literal sense. She smells like warm blood and soft flesh to him now; the perfume he'd once focused on doesn't even register.
He has a much tighter hold on his instincts than most wolves, but some things even Lark can't fight. And some things, he's been losing the fight over since he killed T'Pol.
no subject
"I need to hear you agree to what I asked you for," she says, still calm and even, but firm. "Just as I said it."
As she sees it, of the two of them, he's the one that's had the most difficulty with this already. She doesn't necessarily trust him to keep his word, but she has nothing if he doesn't give it at all.
no subject
"I can treat you kindly. I can stay out of your way. But if you're really going to try to walk me through repeating your words back to you so you can feel like you put me where you want me, good night."
no subject
Her posture tightens. Her expression, everything does. She sets her tea on the desk and clasps her hands tightly in her lap.
But the funny thing is, she's not afraid of him, not really. She doesn't want to die again, and she can't say the thought doesn't get the adrenaline pumping, but it's not the all-consuming, panic-inducing terror it used to be. He won't really kill her, not here. He'll hurt her, and she'll survive it, and she'll find a way to be happy again afterwards. And the truth is, if she had to, she would find a way to do the same to him. She would find a way.
So her heart is beating faster, yes; her muscles are tight. But she doesn't flinch. "I'm sorry is so hard for you to act like a gentleman, that you think you have to threaten me for asking it of you," she says flatly. "And that you are disturbing the peace you say you want. Nothing I ask should be difficult -- and yet you tell me what to do, you talk down to me. You laugh at me. You talk of liking me, being kind to me, and hurting me in the same breath, and you think I should-- what? Say nothing, yes?"
She lifts her chin, giving him a disappointed look. "If nothing else, I thought you were smarter than this. Nothing about this was necessary." Burning bridges for no good reason, over nothing but apparent ego, seems neither very lawyerly nor very leaderish. It seems like a stupid waste. She would have still done a lot for him up until about five minutes ago; if he continues down the path he's decided to put them on, she's not even going to lift a finger to show him to the door. And for what?
no subject
That she would ever think of him as being a gentleman when he is actually just a werewolf. Like he said earlier: there's a reason he hasn't wasted his time trying to explain to her, or to Alec, or to anyone else.
"It's not a threat to say 'the dog bites', Nina," he says, dry, exasperated. Done. He gets to his feet, heads to the door. "You know where we stand now, right? If not, I'm sure we'll figure it out. Good night."
no subject
The dog bites. Oh, please, she thinks. It's like a vaguely more literal version of the same excuse every rude, cruel, angry, and/or lecherous man has ever given. It is genuinely a shame to her; even when she hadn't trusted him she had more than respected him, even looked up to him, but this truly seems like nothing more than a man showing his true and very disappointing colors.
"This is a waste, Lark Tennant," she tells him in the same flat tone, maybe a little tired and a little sad now. She's just so very sick of this, of always coming to see people's worst, even when she wants to see their best. She had liked him. What was the point of this? "I don't know why you choose this way, but it is a waste."
And it is, and the sorrow creeps into her expression even as she says it -- but she does not stand for him, she does not take him to the door. Because the truth is, even if this wasn't at all how or why she expected to be here, this pain is one she'd prepared for, too. She's glad for it, now, or she wouldn't be so calm at all. A part of her still wants to shout, but she stays right where she is and picks up her tea. Once he's gone, she can use her magic freely to perk it back up.