doe-the-foundling:
Tough call, he says. Doe nods in agreement and replies in a quiet, tired voice of understanding, “I know.”
Monsters outside tried to kill without hesitation. Monsters inside had to be more careful about things because they didn’t want things as simple as a dead body. At least she could have a break with the monsters inside before things go bad. And right now, the going bad may be angry brows and his big group. Doe doesn’t know yet.
He watches her closely and she hates. Anxiously she continues to fiddle with the torch, not enough to make that awful loud noise but simply something to keep her hands busy. The man compliments then criticizes her. She ignores it. No use in explaining herself to him. Angry-brows seems like the sort of man who wouldn’t take kindly to her talking back despite offering his thoughts on Doe’s actions.
You can relax, he says. She does the exact opposite, her eyes narrow for a second. He changed so quickly but he’s only less overtly terrifying. Scary, sure, but now he’s more like a puzzle. He’s weird. Bad weird. People don’t need any reason to hurt others, sometimes they just do, and from what he said earlier about this being a ‘touch call’ he can’t expect her to believe that, right?
She doesn’t know what question she expects, but it’s something she could imagine he’d ask anyone, not just a kid. So she takes a second before she answers, proud of it because she can say she doesn’t trust his ‘you can relax’ whilst answering his question at the same time, “I like to make my own judgments on people.”
She’s not big on the nuns but didn’t think it was right to gossip about them. They’re boring if anything and the place seems too good to last like most good things in Doe’s life.
“Plus people act different with someone like me, you know,” she adds. He thinks he’s so smart. That realization alone shatters the illusion a bit. ( A tiny bit cause he’s still scary and much bigger than her. ) But everyone no matter how tall has a weak spot and this is his. Thinking he’s smart and right and better than her. She tucks that thought away for later, something to keep in mind if he becomes a problem.
After a moment she decides to ask her own question. He’s got plenty in. “Who are you? Like, your name?“
She’s a weird girl. But a realistic amount of weird, given what little he can glean from her. Alone. Slightly smart, at least to the point where she recognizes she needs to be making plays in order to survive. Not so good at carrying them out, though. Or, perhaps, not so willing to take big risks. He remembers being around her height, intimidated by his lack of inches and understanding. He remembers that kind of worthless, childish fear being drilled out of him by commands he couldn’t refuse. Until he learned properly how to bleed to live. A hard lesson to learn without guidance, probably.
Still, he can’t afford to pity her. She’s young, she’s alone, but so is everyone. It wasn’t an excuse. And it didn’t preclude her from being a liability, if not a threat. Bryce looked her over as critically as always, her much-improved absence of sass and nervous fidgeting, already thinking of what might be the best way to handle everything that had fallen into his plate.
I like to make my own judgments about people.
“Also difficult to accomplish hiding in a crawlspace,” he pointed out, “or whatever hole you found. Speaking of which, I want to know where it is. ‘Not interested in any of your stuff. Just the surroundings.” Every hole. Every blind spot. Every single potential chick in the armor. Nothing that threatened them could be allowed to find it first.
Bryce’s features constrict just a tad when she asks his name. But it’s a minor request. One of the few things he can give without cost, that might make it less challenging in the long run for her to believe that his people aren’t cannibals or, in general, interested in harming truly-innocent children. “Bryce Edwards.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats, suddenly remembering he’s in them and not his usual slacks. Violet’s waiting somewhere, though hopefully not consciously.
“You might want to consider making your presence actually known so you can start ‘judging’ us actively. Because I’ll be mentioning I saw you in the morning. As long as there’s no funny business, no stealing, no stabbing with that sock knife, no plotting against my people, all I’ll be saying is there’s another resident here. You change, that changes, and escaping into the woods won’t save you. Do you understand me?”