Emilia. Of course it was her who changed everything, and in some level Steph expected that reply as well. That is when she started hanging out regularly at the tattoo shop, and thus started regularly hanging out with Isidore, too. Before that, Isidore did a pretty good job avoiding her for the most part, and she was so glad back when she realized he was finally, after all this time, opening up to her.
Maybe if it happened differently, it would have been better. She wouldn’t have forced herself onto Isi, he could have kept his distance like he wanted to, still be friends with Em and Renzie, and then all of this mess wouldn’t have happened, or at least not with this same level of pain and mess on her side.
And she couldn’t help but wonder, just what it all meant, that both Renzie and Emilia on their own could manage to figure out how to become Isidore’s friends, while she needed years and years of nagging and then a whole other person in Emilia, and Steph hanging out so much at their work, for them to truly become friends? That thought didn’t sit too well with her.
She didn’t want to open that door for too long, though, and instead just nodded at his statement. “Yeah, you should have.” No judgement or anger in her voice now, just quiet agreement. She was convinced that would have been a better way to handle it, didn’t even want to consider any other option, that maybe he wasn’t in any good situation either way. She was too stubborn to admit being wrong.
And yet, despite being angry, despite desperately needing to get out of here, the thought of completely and utterly shutting the door to a friendship with Isidore surprised her into silence. She was so mad, so angry at him, she couldn’t imagine letting that go anytime soon, but definitely ending it all? She wasn’t sure if she could do that to his face, wasn’t sure if she could actually say those words.
Steph opened her mouth and then closed it. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, glancing down at her shoot instead of looking at Isidore as she said, “Just break the fucking door Isidore, we don’t have time for this.”
When Steph no longer had the ability to yell, it meant the situation was likely without any form of saving. It was defeat in it’s finest form- and Isidore sighed, finally allowing himself to accept it.
She couldn’t make any promises, but she also didn’t dash all hope Isidore had. It was hard to decide if his attempts to speak with her had been a failure or a success; or something in-between, something not so easily defined as winning or losing. Everything in Port Vale was complicated... humans were complicated, Isidore had found. Perhaps the Seafolk were, too, and he’d just never taken enough of an interest to notice. Perhaps the war had blurred his vision, and made him believe that in Sea, right and wrong, good and evil, were so clearly defined.
Steph had changed him, so much, and in the best ways possible. Staring at her now, the thick, steady walls that had been placed between them... Isidore felt as if he were losing a piece of himself, too. A sliver of his soul, held captive by her, and the fate of their story in her own hands. Isidore wanted to beg, to plead, to explain again and again, but... she stood in silence, and so did he, and any words that could help him simply weren’t there.
“Fine,” Isidore finally conceded with a sigh, and braced his arm against his side, and with only what seemed to be minimal effort, bumped the door off of it’s hinges until it swung open, the doorknob falling with a light crash. Crouching on his heels, Isidore inspected the lock & latch, and gave an approving noise. At least he’d be able to fix it. As much as he wanted too, Isidore stayed low to the ground, perched and focused on the doorlatch, his heart racing as he listened for Steph’s movements.
