The professor has never been adept at surrendering, or merely acquiescing—he has always been keen on asking questions, or answering them, and the friendship he has with Cheria proves no exception to this rule. Not all of his friends are receptive to that innate curiosity, yet he finds a kindred soul in her. They each approach honesty in different ways but it is always at the expense of an external unit: always about some universal truth, though never about themselves, never of the tragedies that they experience, or continue to.
Which is why, in some ways, he has predicted this aversion. He is not letting the moment pass, however, not when the moment is finally ripe to coax some semblance of truth from a friend who, in many ways, posed a contradiction. Open to conversation, yet so closed off; so attuned to everyone else’s emotions, though not quite willing to confront her own.
At the mention of mushy traumatic bullshit, Gilly scoffs. The thought of wallowing in his own feelings has never appealed to him—not when there are many more questions to be asked, mysteries that needed uncovering, skeletons that needed unearthing. To him wallowing is an indulgence, and a practice he leaves to the poets. The professor is neither. “If you have to ask that question, then you don’t know me at all,” he says with a light chuckle. Regardless, he nods his head, signaling for her to continue. “I should know by now not to expect softness. Not from you.” To a stranger, the words may come off acerbic, though he knows Cheria well enough that the stark honesty would be appreciated.
In exchange, Sherry acknowledges a truth of her own: that the ghost is one from her past. The questions in his head grow more exponentially now, but he is able to restrain herself, and he narrows his expansive curiosity to two sentences. “I see,” he says, nodding, “and this person from your past—have they harmed you in any way?” His eyebrows furrow, and the lines in his forehead grow more pronounced. “Have they harmed others?”
Cheria likes to think that she holds herself well. But she’s never felt as uncomfortable talking about anything as she did right now. And it was becoming increasingly harder to front her emotions where Gilly was concerned. It was perhaps the realization that she could talk about it. As if this were the first time it had ever occurred to her. She does not admit that it is. The reason already prevalent enough for her. It was just easier for her, to not care. And she didn’t, not really. If she looked at it as a fact of her reality, then it would be written as so. And that was that. Certain people just weren’t as willing as her to accept it.
“Mm.” She nods, “I suppose that is why I keep you around.” She says it like she’s giving up, a surrender. Oh, he’s sure to have figured her out now! But the both of them know it would never be as simple as that, it wasn’t as simple as that. It was just that...With most people. She was prone to playing around with them. Though it was not malicious in nature, it never meant anything to her. Easily bored with things that were too familiar, she would grow distant. Surprisingly, it was with friendships like this. The constant...fight. The one that was in both of them. It was those that felt the most fulfilling. Gilly was the only one who had offered her something so sweet. And that was why she kept him around. “I think we’ve already established you’re rather hard to read. Even for a professional like me.”
He continues his previous line of questioning and it’s only then that she truly takes pause. Her eyebrows furrow and she redirects the conversation before he can get anything more from her. First, she has to hold back a sound of disbelief, “Why do you care?” And then, “Actually. I’m still not convinced that entire show wasn’t all just smoke and mirrors.” Cheria knows. She knows about Gilly’s own beliefs. She’s shown a sort of respect for it in the past, sure. But it was not out of some sort of kinship when she said she wanted to learn more about it. She was simply fascinated, as any academic would be.
“Whatever it was that happened. It’s not what you think it is.” It couldn’t be. “It’s only natural something like that would follow me this way.” A serial killer terrorizing a small village in France is quite the hot topic for that week’s local paper. It didn’t take much for news of it to spread. “I’m sure that old man thought it would be a funny joke. And I was the fool that fell for his prank.”
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