A warmer smile, more genuine in its nature, spread across her face at his reply. At least he had a sense of humor. Despite her first impression and the nerves that came with it, she relaxed a little more.
“I imagine Zepp and Warden require warm milk before they’ll settle down?” She suggested, trying to keep her smile from growing stupidly wide. Once the conversation became more directed towards her, she felt the nerves return slightly, but she managed to ignore them for the time being.
“Mhm, I ran into him during one of his jobs. I was… unintentional bait? Not that I imagine he did that on purpose. I was just in the… wrong place, right time? Right place, wrong time? One of those.” Tortulja explained, making a face at the uncertainty of her words.
“I was being hunted by something that was also being hunted. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for them, Samson was there. He saved me, I made a nerve-wracked pun and then he escorted me back to town. We’ve kept in touch since.”
A fond smile had settled on her face as she talked. It was nice, remembering their beginnings, how he had saved her from the first time they met… and how he had saved her in different ways over their friendship.
“We were friends for years… and then one day we were more than friends. He introduced me to his family… and extended family, and then I, uh…” her words faltered, and she focused guiltily on a bottle of whiskey on the desk. “Well, I kind of screwed that up by being an enormous idiot.”
She let the confession hang in the air for a few moments, not wanting to continue and somehow afraid of how the man in front of her would think of her. Somehow it was easier to say this to Croft, though, than to anyone else Samson and she knew together. At least at the moment. She had a good feeling that he would be blunt and truthful in his response. Signy would try to reassure and comfort her, try to be kind to her feelings. Croft had no reason to spare her feelings.
“It’s part of why I came,” she began, clearing her throat and looking up at him again. “To try and… repair any damage I had done, to see if we could salvage our relationship, romantic or not. But also… partly out of concern. The few times I’ve seen him since we split, he hasn’t seemed like Sammy. I didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to discuss much, so I let it go, not wanting to bother him. After….”
Tortulja hesitated, wondering if Warden would want his visit to her to be brought to light. Possibly not.
“After I thought about it enough - I didn’t want to stupidly react on feeling alone like I had before - I decided it would be best to speak with Samson about things face to face. In a better way than we had before. I realized I didn’t express myself or my wants well… not in the way I wanted, not in the way Samson deserved.”
She was beginning to ramble, but it was easing the weight on her chest, and whether or not Croft cared about her reasonings, it still felt good to let out her thoughts. Maybe he would tell her she was being ridiculous, that there was no point to any of this. But she had to try.
“My biggest regret was… not trying hard enough. Getting too scared and letting myself get to me. I didn’t explore all the options, and I want to prove to him… and myself that I can and that I’m willing. At the very least, if there’s no going back, I would like to reach some form of closure… for the both of us.”
Tortulja finally fell quiet again, allowing her words and her heart to settle for a moment, before she let out a short sigh and shook her head.
“I ramble when I’m nervous, I apologize… I probably sound like a fool.”
Croft listened to her talk, recall how she met Samson and how their friendship became what it was - until it wasn’t anymore. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers loosely. He inhaled slowly and let it out as a heavy but quiet sigh.
“You want my honest opinion?” he asked, but didn’t really wait for her to respond before he continued, “I think you’re both idiots, but not for any of the reasons you just listed.”
“I’ve never seen you two together, but hearing it from Samson the two of you have something special, and you’re wasting it on being two chicken-shits too scared to do anything about it,” he went on as calmly as ever, a neutral expression on his face.
“Samson would go to the end of Nirn for you, and I’m taking a chance here by saying you’d do the same for him, yet you’re too caught up in the what-if’s and but’s to realize you’re just fucking yourselves over.” Croft leaned back and let his hands rest in his laps. “You focused so much on not hurting each other, that’s exactly what you wound up doing. Instead you should have leveled with each other, and let the other do what they were willing to do. You’re too quick to admit defeat and give up.”
There was a pause for effect as he leveled a small, lopsided smirk at Tort. “You two need to get your grown-up pants on, get your heads out of each other’s asses, and talk. Not cry about how much it hurts, or the stuff that you don’t want to do. You need to clear the air and start being honest with each other about what you’re both willing to do, then make something work based on that.”
