there's a masochistic part of him almost relieved to see the anger brimming underneath the surface. he certainly deserves it. if alicia had wiped him out, it wouldn't have been like he could've said he didn't have it coming. but it's more than that—in some kind of way, it's relief for her. relief that she hasn't taken so many punches she's resigned herself to them, settled herself to a life of being kicked just to stop being surprised. the surprise is usually worse than the blow, after all.
there's another part of him that aches because he wants to give her more than he's given, and he doesn't know now. that wants to make promises about being better, about being worth something. but he's just not that kind of guy. talking about being better is just something to do with your mouth that isn't actually being better.
yet, he can't handle her thinking he's flippant about it all. he fidgets with the zipper on his jacket as he tries to think of a worthwhile way to respond, and ultimately decides just to come out with it. she hates him. what does he have to lose?
(she hates him, but they went out shopping the other day, and it was one of the best days of his life. she hates him, but she played video games with him just she felt bad he was hurting. none of that feels like nothing. all of it feels like everything. but the things he didn't do in division haunt him as much as the things he did, and he doesn't want to regret not trying with her, even if it goes to shit.)
"i'm not... i'm not trying to be a dick. or.. unaffected or whatever. i just.. i don't want to lie." he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. "i wanna think i would've... done something about it. talked to you sooner. shut my freakin' mouth. i... i feel like i would've. but.. trying to predict the past is about as useless as trying to predict the future." he frowns. "that... didn't make any sense. i'm just trying to say.. i..." he takes a breath. "i didn't mean to hurt you. i don't want to hurt you. and i should've... i should've thought about what this is like for you." he closes his eyes. "i should've thought about... the guy i've been to you. of course... of course you would've thought that. i mean. i said it. i'm the idiot talking about how you all gotta leave. it makes sense you thought that... anyway. but... 'cause of that especially."
he wants to do something to calm the embarrassed blush, say something stupid like you don't gotta be uncomfortable around me, something he knows he has no right to say. so he just focuses on the work in front of him and gives a little shrug, "i can just tell." he could see it in her face, in her eyes. see her wanting more, but too polite or too scared to say so.
she catches what he didn't have the courage to say, and a part of him wants to shake his head, say it's nothing, but he can't remember the last time that happened—that someone really did listen to the words coming out of his mouth, let alone the words that weren't. what didn't he want? "you guys to wipe me clean and take off, i guess." which he recognizes doesn't make a whole lotta sense, except for it kinda does, in a nikki doesn't respect anyone weaker than her kind of way. which he definitely is, both when he is and isn't being an asshole, but she'd walked all over him when he trailed after her like a dog begging for scraps, and he needed to try something different this time.
"it's ass-backwards, i know. but i didn't want to end up one of those guys that walks out of the bar to find his wallet and car gone 'cause nikki needed something to get her from point a to point b, rinse and repeat. guess i wanted you all to feel like stickin' around was the smarter play. more bang for your buck." didn't want them to forget he was of value, worth keeping around, worth sticking around for. "rob a man blind and you eat for a day, get him to give you room and board and it's the gift that keeps on giving, or something, you know." and nikita doesn't respect or trust anything she doesn't have to work for a little.
the deadpan of her voice tickles him, if in a dry and depressing sort of way. he gives a little laugh, followed by a nod. "a guy can dream, right?" couldn't they indulge him a few days of his fantasy? the one where they stick around without a mission in the works, eat breakfast together in the morning? he isn't that picky—he knows they wouldn't be here if they had other options, and he's gotta be a step up from a motel 6. he doesn't need them to reinvent the wheel, just let him sit with his delusions for a little while til they run their course.
he gets quiet and somber again as she continues, resists the urge to reach out and touch her when he hears the little quiver hiding beneath her determination not to show weakness in front of him. he wishes she knew he didn't think it was weak. he wishes she knew a lot of things. he cringes when she replays his words back to him, shoulders tense and almost at the tips of his ears as he sits in how the words sounded. the smile soon to come after relieves a little of that tension, but he's mostly too confused by it to feel much of anything yet aside from regret.
he's glad he didn't say anything when she continues, vulnerable in a way he hasn't earned, doesn't deserve, and is immensely grateful for. even as he winces at them, because being the landlord with all of the power is a concept so profoundly disgusting he can hardly stand it. who the fuck is he? how did he get here?
there's a kid in him still that remembers deciding to wreck his dad's boat because he hated it for reminding him he could never measure up to an inanimate object his dad could polish and makeover to his heart's content, spend more time fixing and admiring it than he did using it. there's a kid in him still that remembers standing outside in ninety five degree weather protesting the crimes of the rich before he graduated to stealing from them. there's a kid in him that fucking hates that this is who he is and can't believe it took him until now to see ending up in a percentile most can't fathom when the world only ever wanted to put him underground might be more of a self-betrayal than a victory.
how the fuck did he forget that he fucking hates landlords?
alicia should have hit him harder.
the rocking horse? he deserved that, actually.
"fuck that." he doesn't really mean to say it—he knows his inner dialogue of self-loathing is no use to her, and maybe more of an insult than anything else. "i mean... fuck that." because he really can't say anything else for a second. "sorry. that's not. i just mean... i don't want to be that guy. i fucking hate that guy. christ, harper. i don't..." that's not me? is that what he wants to say? is that what he wants to beg her to believe, even knowing he has no right to? he closes his eyes. "i.. i hear you. okay? i... i get it. i do." he looks at her again, and there's something pleading there despite himself, asking her to believe this is true, to believe despite everything that he hears her because he's been her.
he forces himself to go back to chopping for a second. "i can't.. i wouldn't believe me, if i was you, so i can't.. i can't expect you to. so maybe.. maybe it's just gotta take time. i get that. but... i'm never gonna do that. i'm never gonna leave you on the side of the road with nothing. i've ... i've been there before. i'm not gonna do that to you. nikita and michael or no nikita and michael. you staying here isn't contingent on them. you're not just some stray they picked up and are gonna dump somewhere, or that i'm gonna tell to get out. you're.. you're safe here."
there's the slightest wetness to his eyes that he tells himself is allergy-related at her next words—mostly out of habit, because the words are so powerful he can't really think about how much of an idiot he is, which is saying a lot. "okay." he says simply, nodding. the earnestness in that one word isn't simple, though, nor is the vulnerable look in his eyes pleading with her to believe it. something about her makes him brave. "then listen to me now. you don't.. you don't need to be scared of me. i... i can be an asshole. i can be a hotheaded dick. i fuck up. i don't think shit through. but i'm not a liar, and i'm not.. i'm not gonna just turn on you one day and say get out. i'm not gonna blow up at you for eating. you don't gotta tiptoe or earn your keep or whatever stupid shit. just.. do what you gotta do. if you need something or you don't like something.. you can tell me."
he picks up the plate he's made for her and starts to hand it over, but there's a look in her eye that stops him. has waiting him for something he can tell she wants to say. he doesn't have a clue for what it could be, but he certainly doesn't expect it to be about alicia. it has him at a loss for a moment, and he sits down the plate for her as he thinks about it. "i should've put it together," he says softly. "as soon as i heard that damn sound come on. maybe even before that." he shakes it off, eyes refocusing. "i knew it was stupid. you can't just overcome mind control like that. but... i dunno. had to at least try i guess."