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Now that I have the time to ponder on it more, I suppose I should not be surprised — a woman who deny maturity to her son would deny accountableness to men, pushing such to the province of other women.
(Her insistence of washing a 15-years-old son personally could be for a less wholesome notion.)
… but then again, was the memory I saw unadulterated? The last time that ‘messenger’ withheld the particulars, I had to leave Crockbottom to even find employment. Hearing things from the horse’s mouth does not seem an option, either. Not right now. And there’s still the higher art. I don’t even know what are the limits of that. And with how fractured the band is, the possibility of getting that hat—-
“Hey. Is you well? Looking a little tired there.” Grasping my wrist, Airin jolts me awake from the endless sea of nauseating thoughts. Once again, her voice soothes my nervy self as we enter the elevator. “Ha. I ought to be asking you that, ma’am.” We share a satisfied chuckle following my teasing.
A much needed reminder; at the end of the day, this - is - supposed to be our night, after all. All these impurities needn’t define it. Those other matters can be sorted in the tomorrow and other days.
( … )
Following the ride, we ventured deeper into the more newly constructed parts of the tunnel; the once brisk air gone, replaced by the perpetual carting of rubble; bookstores and other establishments for leisure replaced by vast storehouses and temporary cookshops.
“We should be fine from here.” Having spotted the hospital’s gigantic door curtains, the yellow haired kid, Tian, tells us that they no longer need accompanying. Just as he flicks his hand for Galpet to follow him, the goblin shows some hesitancy. A ‘give a minute’ look is exchanged between them.
“Your talk of earlier. You mentioned meeting her prior?” Pet turns his attention to Airin. She passes a glance to me before giving a brief nod.
“They were at the same eating place as us for supper. They did not like us any too well - and for the record, no, we did not involve ourselves in their conversations. Not until she accused us of it.” I answer the potential questions before he has the chance to speak it. It gives him pause for the moment.
“The conversation with the man she was with, was it a quarrelsome thing?” My brows twitch a little while processing his choice of words. Hm. For someone who thinks very little of Amournnara’s (current) paramour, a part of him does seem to deeply care about their happiness.
We ought to tell him…
>the entire length and breadth of it
She’s not a good person. Indubitably. Mayhaps learning of this would help him realize it.
>the gist, spare the particulars
He does not need to hear his own mother talk of rape as something he might do because a woman does not know ‘propriety’ — she provoked the quarrel while he tried to quell it.
