Gladion frowned, slightly hurt that Lily thinks he would do this for charity or funds. He felt that turn to irritation. “I’m not doing it for charity.” He said calmly, trying to keep his tone level. “And the fact that you think that I’m someone who deserves it is frankly irritating. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m my own damn person, Lily. I fought my entire fucking life to be my own person and I’m not about to stop for you or anyone else.” He clenched his jaw, trying to reign in his temper as one of the topics particularly sensitive to him was prodded.
“… I wanted to just… share it with you, alright? I… I want you to know me better. I’m trying to be your companion. That is all I wish. I don’t need anything from you.” His eyes were sharp and he looked at Lily with no fear. “I was hoping by sharing something with you, I could better understand you as well. As I said, if you are uncomfortable with it, that’s fine and I won’t push it any further. But don’t assume that everyone wants something of monetary value from you. Some people are more simple than that.”
“Au contraire, monsieur. Those who look upon me and desire only my wealth are the simple ones. It is the ones who crave all the other things that baffle me.”
He could always guess what the greedy ones were thinking. They were plain and simple, always cut from the same cloth: he knew their words like he did any of his speeches, he knew their hollow-eye look, and he knew where he stood with them.
To them, he was desirable. Worth placating, worthy of worship.
Those who did not desire money or status were strange. They came to him with smiles, offerings of shared tables or an awning: they talked to him, told him stories of average life, asked him about his day and they never once asked anything of him, and he didn’t understand.
He is King. Does not tell all it need? He is a King, flat and stony, and he is the Face of his People and the Voice of the Wealthy. He is not little Lily, who wanted to be a Princess and wanted to live a humble life in the coming New age. That disappeared a long time ago.
“... perhaps your story would be best for another time, Monsieur.” The Flower turned blue, like all things good, so he thinks such was the correct action. “I will be late if I dawdle any longer.”