It's a thought. It's a good thought, too, and Alan knows in the back of his head that Aerith is absolutely right. He doesn't agree with it, if the way he shoots her a look is anything to go by, face right set right back into a brooding look, but he doesn't have the heart to actually snap. Aerith, it seems, plays by Alice rules now.
Shit.
He sighs, heavy and noncommittal, and opts out of being Perceived like this as best as he can instead of getting too annoyed.
"You talked to Corvo? Manage to get more than three sentences out of him?"
Aerith was wondering when the anger would pop up. She could see the thunder broiling. So she waited.
And was a little surprised when he didn't snap or lash out. It had been pointed, and difficult thing to hear. Gently, Aerith gave Alan's arm a squeeze. Just thankful that he didn't lash out.
"Yes? Corvo and I can be positively chatty given the chance." Aerith tilted her head, offering a semi amused, semi puzzled look. "What, is he always quiet and brooding around you?"
'Jittery' is the correct word and also a completely absurd one. Alan doesn't bother to hide the mild surprise flickering across his features at it.
"Definitely something most of us needed to adjust for," he agrees. He frowns, mulling it over. He'd been ready. That's the difference, he thinks. However minuscule. He may not remember the conversation with the admirable, but he knows he'd been willing. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.
Aerith nodded. She had taken a lot of time to think over this. With her initial conversations with Corvo and Yelena, they were used to being attacked.
"Maybe some know, maybe some need to be snapped up. We don't know." Aerith shook her head. "And fighters who die fighting...they're ready to keep fighting until the danger is over."
She gave Alan a pat on the arm. "You're included in that by the way."
It's the word drowning that causes Alan to stiffen unconsciously, jaw setting tight. He's not sure if he wants to outright tell Aerith either, but he sits up fully.
"Yeah." And here comes the hard part: "In order to get out, I had to make it a horror story. I had to shape things to reflect that."
"It's just---it's the stakes. They have to be just right. The narration hash to make sense, the motivation has to be big enough. I wouldn't have done it if I thought there wasn't another way, Aerith."
Aerith watched him. She saw him, drowning, and trying to bring out a line. Trying to swim for shore.
"There's no way to know. We don't know what we would have done if it had been different." Her voice was soft. "Who did you hurt Alan? What were their names?"
He feels restless, discomfort clawing at him, making him want to move. He rises, restless pacing suiting him much better for this conversation--if he even wants to say anything to begin with.
"If there was any other way--if I hadn't been there for years, if I hadn't have been so desperate to do it, I..."
He's spinning on his heel, emotion rising, jaw tight and voice raised. He's glaring at Aerith but it's not directed towards her whatsoever.
"I tried everything else. You have to understand that."
Aerith didn't move where she was sitting. Instead, she watched him, her gaze calm and her hands on her lap. She could hear the desperation, the need for her to understand what he had done, the people he had hurt. The guilt.
The glare didn't hurt. Because it wasn't about her. None of it was about her.
"I know." She didn't know. But it was something he needed to hear. "But you're avoiding the question Alan." Her voice was quiet. He was also avoiding the fact that he was desperate, and he hurt them.
She understood the desperation, but he still hurt them.
Alan stills again, pacing ceasing. He's not ready for the full story yet, but Aerith's words are firm and gentle, cutting through the truth of things and Alan's self indulgent bullshit in a very familiar manner.
He's not ready to say. Not fully. But he brought this up, and he owes Aerith an explanation, even if it's not the full one. Especially after everything that's happened. He grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair to tuck the length of it back behind his ears.
"I hurt someone very close to Saga as a means of motivation. Something to drive her to the horror story and put her in a position where she could help me. That's why I'm here."
She was pushing. She knew she was. But it felt like this was something that he needed to say, without all of his excuses and lies that he was giving to himself. He was drowning, and he grabbed onto what he could in order to escape and survive.
Everyone did foolish things when the chips were down. She had done the same, and it cost her her life. And that was still causing pain for the people she loved years later.
"You hurt Saga so she'd do what you wanted. As a story hook." She considered this. And she pushed herself up, moving to dust off her knees. But she didn't scold him, or walk away. Instead, she looked up at him with her bright green eyes.
Aerith gets up, too, but Alan can't meet her gaze. He tries--a little shift to those green eyes before purposefully looking away. The brunette's got it in one.
"No." A pause. That's not right. He furrows his brows. Subconscious slip--he knows he should. Properly. He does his best to fight off the sudden burning feeling in his chest, clenching and unclenching his fists, fighting off his own personal thoughts and forcing himself to stay focused.
"Yes," he corrects himself, crossing his arms. "Before the barge, when we were working together. She knows."
It's hard to meet her eyes when she was looking at him and expecting answers.
"She knows what you did? Or she knows you regret it?"
Aerith didn't approach him. But she watched him, her gaze neutral, hands clasped in front of her.
"Because those are two different things Alan." And it sounded to her that there wasn't any apology. And Saga would have figured it out. She was clever.
"I'm taking care of it." Alan's words are short, curt, and immediate--when he does look at Aerith it's with a stern look, close to a warning. Anger rising. It's not fair to Aerith--none of this is--but Alan's stubbornness is bleeding through.
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Shit.
He sighs, heavy and noncommittal, and opts out of being Perceived like this as best as he can instead of getting too annoyed.
"You talked to Corvo? Manage to get more than three sentences out of him?"
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And was a little surprised when he didn't snap or lash out. It had been pointed, and difficult thing to hear. Gently, Aerith gave Alan's arm a squeeze. Just thankful that he didn't lash out.
"Yes? Corvo and I can be positively chatty given the chance." Aerith tilted her head, offering a semi amused, semi puzzled look. "What, is he always quiet and brooding around you?"
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"He's definitely someone I'd call a friend."
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"We had a kinda awkward first meeting. He told me he was the reason about the signs on the stairs- the ones about this place being real."
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"I don't think that guy knows how to be normal. I tried to hit him with my flashlight when we first met. Snuck up on me my second day here."
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"And I think Corvo is as normal as he can get." She offered a gentle shrug. "His world seems very...very different from what little he's told me."
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"Everyone seems to come from a really bad place if they're an inmate."
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"Well...if they're coming in dead...that sadly makes sense. No wonder they come in all jittery."
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"Definitely something most of us needed to adjust for," he agrees. He frowns, mulling it over. He'd been ready. That's the difference, he thinks. However minuscule. He may not remember the conversation with the admirable, but he knows he'd been willing. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.
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"Maybe some know, maybe some need to be snapped up. We don't know." Aerith shook her head. "And fighters who die fighting...they're ready to keep fighting until the danger is over."
She gave Alan a pat on the arm. "You're included in that by the way."
Him being a fighter.
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"I gave up for a while," he says softly. "I was hurting a lot of people."
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"Felt like you were drowning?" Aerith's voice was soft. "Or something else?"
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"Yeah." And here comes the hard part: "In order to get out, I had to make it a horror story. I had to shape things to reflect that."
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She knew this was hard. It was going to go somewhere ugly. But at least he was admitting to what had happened. It was something.
So she waited quietly, watching him.
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It's a complete non-answer.
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"There's no way to know. We don't know what we would have done if it had been different." Her voice was soft. "Who did you hurt Alan? What were their names?"
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"If there was any other way--if I hadn't been there for years, if I hadn't have been so desperate to do it, I..."
He's spinning on his heel, emotion rising, jaw tight and voice raised. He's glaring at Aerith but it's not directed towards her whatsoever.
"I tried everything else. You have to understand that."
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The glare didn't hurt. Because it wasn't about her. None of it was about her.
"I know." She didn't know. But it was something he needed to hear. "But you're avoiding the question Alan." Her voice was quiet. He was also avoiding the fact that he was desperate, and he hurt them.
She understood the desperation, but he still hurt them.
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He's not ready to say. Not fully. But he brought this up, and he owes Aerith an explanation, even if it's not the full one. Especially after everything that's happened. He grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair to tuck the length of it back behind his ears.
"I hurt someone very close to Saga as a means of motivation. Something to drive her to the horror story and put her in a position where she could help me. That's why I'm here."
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Everyone did foolish things when the chips were down. She had done the same, and it cost her her life. And that was still causing pain for the people she loved years later.
"You hurt Saga so she'd do what you wanted. As a story hook." She considered this. And she pushed herself up, moving to dust off her knees. But she didn't scold him, or walk away. Instead, she looked up at him with her bright green eyes.
"Have you apologized?"
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"No." A pause. That's not right. He furrows his brows. Subconscious slip--he knows he should. Properly. He does his best to fight off the sudden burning feeling in his chest, clenching and unclenching his fists, fighting off his own personal thoughts and forcing himself to stay focused.
"Yes," he corrects himself, crossing his arms. "Before the barge, when we were working together. She knows."
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"She knows what you did? Or she knows you regret it?"
Aerith didn't approach him. But she watched him, her gaze neutral, hands clasped in front of her.
"Because those are two different things Alan." And it sounded to her that there wasn't any apology. And Saga would have figured it out. She was clever.
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"Okay." She told him. "All right." Some things, it seemed, he wasn't ready to face just yet.