"And are you willing to work with me, trust that I want to get you the fuck out of here even if you might not understand why I'm insisting on something?"
"I will permit that you're slightly closer now than you were six months
ago," Astarion says. "If you ever show another person our private
correspondence, ever again, you can get another inmate."
"I would actually prefer that you not discuss me with anyone at all," he
says crisply, then waves a hand: "Unless you're just calling me an
irritating bastard in the abstract; that's fine."
"Mm. No. Though if you find new and thrilling ways to aggravate me that I didn't anticipate, I reserve the right to get annoyed about them as they arise."
"I don't expect you not to be unhappy. Or to be nice about it when you tell me you're unhappy. All I want is the understanding that I am trying to respect your wishes, but I can't understand them if you choose not to communicate them. That's what I meant by that."
"And I can't communicate them if I don't know what they are," Astarion says
- not arguing, just...elucidating. "It's a work in progress all around,
darling."
He feels like the boundaries he's tried to enforce are arbitrary and petty
because he doesn't have any real sense of how they're meant to work.
That actually has him nodding with some enthusiasm.
"I get that, I do. It is. And if there are things I can do to help you figure out what's missing or what would make you feel... more secure. I want to do them."
"Is there a way to ask you questions that feels less... like an interrogation? I worry about that, that you think I'm trying to dig into you or tear something open."
He shrugs.
"I realize it's possible that just... because I'm your warden, it's never going to entirely feel like that. But I'd rather make it better than worse."
"Oh, well. You could listen when I tell you I don't want to talk about
something," Astarion grouses. He's being...slightly dramatic, but only
slightly.
"Every single time that you have told me that we're not talking about something, that you no longer want to be around me, or that you need me to drop it, I have. You're always annoyed with me, so 'I sound annoyed' is not an indicator I can actually use." Huff. "Neither is 'fine' or 'I hate you' or questioning whether what I'm asking is important."
"Every single time? So when you arrived here not half an hour ago and gave
me the choice of 'letting you inside' or 'being talked at through my cabin
door', which of those options would you consider 'dropping it'?"
"I didn't give you that choice. You said you would prefer I didn't come in. So I didn't until you opened the door and practically let me fall in." He turns his hand to Astarion. "Maybe you were doing something private. Maybe you didn't want anyone to look at you. Maybe you wanted to flip me off through the door. Maybe you just wanted to make me wait for it to prove I actually give a shit. I don't know. 'I don't want to talk to you right now, but I'm not dying' is a perfectly reasonable response and I know you know all of those words."
There's one other thing and he's not sure how to address it. Well... while they're at it.
"I won't set any kind of... anything around you lying to me. I'm not going to tell you you can't or that it's a qualification. The ability to lie, withhold information... whatever version? It's something you should have. I'm not going to fuck with that."
He breathes out.
"What I will say is that lying makes it harder for me to understand what's going on, which means there's going to be more questions, or I'll make mistakes in trying to do right by you. You don't understand me any better than I understand you, so you might get unexpected results. You will make this take longer, and I'm not- I'm trying not to be a dick. But the other options aren't options, as far as I'm concerned, so I have to go with what you say. So. Just...
"Think about it before you lie. Think about if it's really going to help you or if you're just going to make things messier down the road as we try to get this done. That's all I'm going to say about it."
"Oh, I'll sort it out eventually," which is to say he might not, but fuck
it. Living in a ruined depression hole feels appropriate right now, and the
torn curtains are more exciting for Aylin to play with. "The kitchens are
supplied with blood. It's fine."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Nine Hells, you have my answer," he snaps. "Yes."
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"And are you willing to work with me, trust that I want to get you the fuck out of here even if you might not understand why I'm insisting on something?"
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There's a long silence as he lies there and strokes Aylin contemplatively.
"I can work with you. I can accept that you believe your motives are...benign. But trust you? Mm. No. Not right now."
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"All right. Do you know how we can work towards that kind of trust?"
He turns a hand.
"'Proof of concept' is going to be difficult on this one."
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"I will permit that you're slightly closer now than you were six months ago," Astarion says. "If you ever show another person our private correspondence, ever again, you can get another inmate."
Yes, he's still peeved about that.
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"Done."
Then he lifts up a finger.
"Do you have any other privacy concerns so that we can avoid that before I make a mistake?"
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"I would actually prefer that you not discuss me with anyone at all," he says crisply, then waves a hand: "Unless you're just calling me an irritating bastard in the abstract; that's fine."
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"Mm. No. Though if you find new and thrilling ways to aggravate me that I didn't anticipate, I reserve the right to get annoyed about them as they arise."
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"....Fair."
He might still get annoyed! He'll just be aware that it's a dick move!
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"I don't expect you not to be unhappy. Or to be nice about it when you tell me you're unhappy. All I want is the understanding that I am trying to respect your wishes, but I can't understand them if you choose not to communicate them. That's what I meant by that."
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"And I can't communicate them if I don't know what they are," Astarion says - not arguing, just...elucidating. "It's a work in progress all around, darling."
He feels like the boundaries he's tried to enforce are arbitrary and petty because he doesn't have any real sense of how they're meant to work.
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"I get that, I do. It is. And if there are things I can do to help you figure out what's missing or what would make you feel... more secure. I want to do them."
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"I - yes. I'll keep that in mind."
He's got no idea what John could possibly do, but, he can't fault him for enthusiasm.
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"Is there a way to ask you questions that feels less... like an interrogation? I worry about that, that you think I'm trying to dig into you or tear something open."
He shrugs.
"I realize it's possible that just... because I'm your warden, it's never going to entirely feel like that. But I'd rather make it better than worse."
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"Oh, well. You could listen when I tell you I don't want to talk about something," Astarion grouses. He's being...slightly dramatic, but only slightly.
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"Every single time that you have told me that we're not talking about something, that you no longer want to be around me, or that you need me to drop it, I have. You're always annoyed with me, so 'I sound annoyed' is not an indicator I can actually use." Huff. "Neither is 'fine' or 'I hate you' or questioning whether what I'm asking is important."
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Astarion laughs, incredulous.
"Every single time? So when you arrived here not half an hour ago and gave me the choice of 'letting you inside' or 'being talked at through my cabin door', which of those options would you consider 'dropping it'?"
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"I didn't give you that choice. You said you would prefer I didn't come in. So I didn't until you opened the door and practically let me fall in." He turns his hand to Astarion. "Maybe you were doing something private. Maybe you didn't want anyone to look at you. Maybe you wanted to flip me off through the door. Maybe you just wanted to make me wait for it to prove I actually give a shit. I don't know. 'I don't want to talk to you right now, but I'm not dying' is a perfectly reasonable response and I know you know all of those words."
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"Gods. Fine, I shall endeavour to be more precise in my language when I'm in good health and merely want you to fuck off."
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There's one other thing and he's not sure how to address it. Well... while they're at it.
"I won't set any kind of... anything around you lying to me. I'm not going to tell you you can't or that it's a qualification. The ability to lie, withhold information... whatever version? It's something you should have. I'm not going to fuck with that."
He breathes out.
"What I will say is that lying makes it harder for me to understand what's going on, which means there's going to be more questions, or I'll make mistakes in trying to do right by you. You don't understand me any better than I understand you, so you might get unexpected results. You will make this take longer, and I'm not- I'm trying not to be a dick. But the other options aren't options, as far as I'm concerned, so I have to go with what you say. So. Just...
"Think about it before you lie. Think about if it's really going to help you or if you're just going to make things messier down the road as we try to get this done. That's all I'm going to say about it."
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Thinking? Before lying? Ha. He might as well ask him to think before breathing.
...which isn't totally inadequate as a comparison, since he doesn't need to breathe, either.
"All right, warden. Understood."
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"Do you need me to make sure you have more blood on hand since your source is gone? Or anything else?"
And then a short pause before he looks around.
"...do you want to clean this up yourself or should I do it?"
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"Oh, I'll sort it out eventually," which is to say he might not, but fuck it. Living in a ruined depression hole feels appropriate right now, and the torn curtains are more exciting for Aylin to play with. "The kitchens are supplied with blood. It's fine."
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