“I don’t spare you just for his sake. I spare you because whether I like it or not, I find myself realizing time and again that my life, long as it’ll be, would not be so interesting without you in it.” About as nice as she’s going to get from him. “If I barely tolerated you, I wouldn’t bother myself with these emotions. Wouldn’t talk to you, and wouldn’t try to sort myself out. I’m trying to sort out what are my feelings, versus what’s just a grudge I need to let go of.”
Rather than taken aback, he’s amused by her admission. “I can’t imagine why. I’m a right bastard.” He’s grinning, though, in that terrible way he does. “I’m willing to move past neutrality, but you’re just making it harder by assuming things that aren’t true, and working yourself up into a frenzy of anxiety and ambivalence. I think this is the year that we end this silly game, if only because I’m fucking sick of playing it.”
A dragon. Yes, he’d gathered that much. It’s not that he hates dragons- rather the opposite- but they strike a very specific chord of respectful fear in him when they’re large enough, and that’s an emotion he could go without experiencing too often. “I’m not going to puff up at a dragon. They’re one of the few creatures I’d consider above myself on the rungs. I’d rather like not being eaten myself, if I can help it.”
[He’s right. He’d been trying to sort things out and she’d overlooked his efforts until now. She had been so absorbed in her own emotions that she hadn’t fully acknowledged that he had spent three months chewing on the shit feelings that she had caused. Would he have done the same for someone else so irritatingly persistent, so confusing, so fickle? Would she? No. She’d take that kind of grudge to the grave.]
[Her expression softens, prosthetic hand meeting its living counterpart behind her back to run a cool metal thumb over the scar that he had left. Despite everything she had thrown at him, he’d been patient with her.]
…then I’ll wait for you to sort those feelings out. And my offer to talk about it is still there.
[Surprisingly, she doesn’t chide him for wearing that terrible grin of his. In fact, she returns it with her own, nose crinkling gently as her tongue briefly dips out between her teeth.] As long as we don’t have to make another deal.
[A small, but sure sign of moving forward.]
You’d put yourself below a dragon? But you’re taller than - [that fuck-off massive reptile that scared the shit out of you and your dad?] - uh. I guess that’s not all that counts. Anyway, Teddy’s sweeter than cherry pie, you’ve got nothing to worry about.
[Her eyes move over past Bjorn’s left and she nods pointedly in that direction.] See that path? Go down it for ten minutes and you’ll see a sign for Princes Way on the left. Can’t remember the number, but I think you’ll know which house it is. Nicest garden on the street by far. I’d take you myself, but-
[I can’t bring myself to look dad in the eye right now.]
He, notably, has not, indeed, he has refused to draw attention to the fact her arm has been replaced. It’s none of his business. He was the culprit for its loss in the first place, but it’s not his business how or why she had it replaced. He merely watches her, as he always has, with the distant interest of a well-fed cat.
“I suppose, then, you’ll need your own time to decide what you want to do, if you aren’t taking the opportunity now. Either you’re once again second-guessing your emotions, or you haven’t figured out how best to start the conversation.”
And the smile he wears now is oddly...soft. Not any less toothy or dangerous, but rather than grim pleasure, it seems to be an alien smile of attempted understanding.
It doesn't fit on his face.
“I have no desire to take anything else from you.”
That’s as much of an I’m sorry as she’s going to get, and he seems puzzled at her own befuddlement that yes, he would place a dragon above himself. “Height isn’t what matters, dear pup. It’s ferocity. Conquest. Power. It could be a dragon the size of a horse and I would respect it. It’s a dragon. They are the Kings and Queens of this world, Emperors and Empresses. No less.” And yet, this dragon is named Teddy. It’s not exactly inspirational of any fear or respect, but he presumes, like any dragon, they have a presence.
“It’s of little consequence how sweet a dragon might be, Victoria, or how little I have to be worried about. I’m still going into the den of something, should it choose too, is fully capable of and well within its right to eat me.”
He holds a respect for predators higher than himself that seems effortless and common sense to him. No wonder Victoria’s antics annoyed him so much.
“...Ah. Well, I’ll make my visit short.” No thank you, either, but that’s less a Bjorn thing and more a Fae thing.
