Quoted By:
>Moral support
Your throat is dry when you speak. "I think I'll pass."
"Oh." Gil has a look like he doesn't blame you. But he doesn't say that, and he doesn't really do anything else, either— he just hovers.
"You can sit down," you say.
"Oh." He sits in the corner of an armchair and looks into the distance.
You wait for him to say something more. When he doesn't, you rub your thumb against your palm. "You're okay, right?"
"What?"
"He didn't hurt you?" He doesn't look hurt, but Richard's good at that.
Gil shifts. "Um, no, I-I-I-I—"
"I'm just asking because I went to all this trouble before," you explain. You don't like the way he's looking at you, his eyes all wide and green like that. Like he's looking at a chained-up puppy through a fence. "Saving you. And whatnot. So it'd be a real drag if he went and ruined—"
"Are <span class="mu-i">you</span> okay? I-I-I should be the one asking, not— I-I mean, I should've been <span class="mu-i">helping,</span> and I just—"
"Don't be stupid. I was way over there." And he would've been killed. "Anyhow, I'm fine."
He peers at you. You hate his stupid expression. "Are you sure? Because, um, you seem—"
"Fine."
"...Um, okay. Sorry." His eyes flick. "Um. I-I-I-I-I just feel like you got to know me, um, a lot. So I-I think it'd be fair if you were honest with..."
What are you supposed to tell him? You can't just go and say you're not fine. Because that would be weakness. Because that would mean you've lost. Because that's not how positive thinking <span class="mu-i">works:</span> you start doing it, and then you can't stop, ever, because if you do all the not-positive things come crashing down on your head and there's so many (you've been doing it so long) that you're crushed under them. Or some dumb metaphor like that.
And maybe most importantly, because he is your retainer. Meaning <span class="mu-i">you</span> are supposed to be a noble rock of stability, and a shining beacon of light, such that he is awed and wishes to devote his whole entire life (willingly) to you. And you are <span class="mu-i">not</span> supposed to capitulate to the wicked snake-man, and if you do it is merely a part of a greater plan. So you are supposed to feel smug, not miserable. And saying you feel miserable is proof you did it wrong. Or proof that you're not what you've been telling him you are. Or what you've been telling yourself you are.
You beat out ten seconds with the tap of your finger, enough time to ensure you've swallowed down that lump in your throat. Bursting into tears would be also be proof. "Do you think I count as a heroine? Gil?"
"As a...?" He laces his fingers. "I-I-I'm not sure what you mean. Um, by that. Sorry."
What you <span class="mu-i">mean</span> by that? It seems obvious to you, but as you attempt to articulate a clean definition keeps slipping out of reach. "It's— well, you know, it's— a lady who's noble, and courageous, and strong-willed, and she goes around, um, solving problems. And slaying evil monsters, and rescuing people, and stuff. And she has a sword. And a destiny."
(1/2)
