[It's perhaps the only answer Eren would accept. The notes are safe in his pocket, and he looks at Esther again. Food is set down between them - awkward. He waits for the interruption to end.]
If I show someone else, and ask them to play, it won't be the same.
[ She thanks the server and pulls her plate closer, absolutely sugars the shit out of her coffee, gets to the creamer as Eren speaks again. ]
Most likely not, no; but I think you should anyway. It deserves to be heard, [ not without a smile, ] and it took me quite a while to perfect. It'd be a shame for it to stay on the page exclusively.
[Eren shakes his head, not an outright rejection, but an adjustment of expectation.]
I'll wait until you have your violin again. I don't want to hear it from anyone else.
[No matter how much or how little time passes, they always end up back here, there, or somewhere else somehow. The time will come. He'll make it if he has to.]
[ The important thing about the play was that everyone reacted calmly and in a collected fashion. Thank God no one was blown up, maimed, or otherwise trampled to death. What a pleasant evening had by all. ]
Maybe next time this place will spawn next to a concert hall. I'd feel better about playing it for you on a stage rather than here.
I'm not typically, no. I love performing though. It feels different if I'm playing or singing. They're enjoying the skill I'm showcasing rather than me alone.
It's the only time I don't mind having eyes on me.
[Pancake break. He adds everything Esther does, and it's so sweet that it makes Eren's eyebrows raise, then his nose crinkle. He takes another bite anyway. Against all odds, he waits to speak until he's finished chewing.]
I don't know anything about performing like that. [He's always in the spotlight, though.] My talents aren't artistic.
[The idea of Eren's hidden talent being crochet should be funny, but only in a bitter way. Eren can't laugh anymore. He lets the acknowledgement come, then pass, and he doesn't argue. All Esther knows about him is that he was a soldier, that he became one at a young age, that he's seen war. It was comforting that she didn't know his name, that first time they talked. He still clings to it.
[They'll talk about pancakes instead. They'll talk about things that don't matter at all.]
I used to eat these as a kid, but we just ate them plain. Butter, maybe.
Nothing like this...
[It is good though, as much as it is sickening. He takes another bite.]
[ She pauses a moment, another bite extending it just a few seconds more. ]
I never got to eat them, not like this anyway. Traditionally they're much thinner where I'm from, and I'd be allowed those on a holiday named after them as a treat.
[ One of the first breakfasts she had with Magda was pancakes, American style. They'd been the best thing she'd ever tasted, and she'd cried the entire time until her plate was cleared. Probably kept going, she doesn't remember.
A sip of coffee follows that memory, chases it as she swallows it down. ]
[At this, his expression hardens slightly, but it's only a thoughtful look. A controlled diet? He supposes that might make sense, say she were in some sort of training before she became whatever assassin she is now...]
[ Quite unintentionally, her expression does something rather similar, and yet a lot more complicated. She considers fobbing him off, changing the subject, but that doesn't feel right with him.
At the very least, she's glad for the plate of food; gives her something to busy her hands with. Something else to look at. ]
[It takes a moment for the idea to fully process. Why would anyone want to keep someone under their control slender? Only to keep them weak, unable to fight back, maybe.
[Something else occurs to him, and then he's glaring, sharp. It's in Esther's direction, but it isn't for her.
[Men, who keep women like slaves to their whims.]
Bullshit.
[His fist is clutching his knife, top lip tugging up in a snarl. He makes a short sound, then turns his head away. He glares out the window, into the ever empty, never-ending parking lot.]
It isn't that way anymore, right? [Of course not. Here she is, but for how long?] Forget I asked.
Good. [It comes out too quick, too sharp; he still can't look at her.
[A beat passes, then another. He faces her again, but busies himself with eating. He finds he wants to know more, but, perhaps more oddly, doesn't want to ask.]
You seem capable.
[Does she look after herself now? Or is she under someone else's thumb?]
[ She notices that he can't look at her, and for a brief moment, she wonders why. Wonders what he's assuming, wonders how that assumptions shaping her in his head. But then he's speaking again, not as sharp as before, and it untwists the anxiety in her chest a fraction. ]
Both can be true. [ She shrugs, just the once. Resigned. ] At least the cage is bigger this time around. Can barely notice the bars most days.
[Eren doesn't look away because he can't stand to look at Esther. He looks away because he doesn't want her to see him, this betrayal of empathy, cracking his mask wide open - or...so it feels.
[In reality, his expression hasn't changed that much at all. He stares at her.]
[Understood without much trouble. People end up slaves to organizations all the time, Esther not being the only one in this room. He nods his head, two fingers idly tapping on the surface of the table.
[At once, the topic seems to shift. Eren doesn't explain the sudden departure, facing Esther and saying:]
You're the only person I ever end up seeing when I come here. Did you know that?
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pantheraliam) wrote2030-03-12 03:03 pm
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If I show someone else, and ask them to play, it won't be the same.
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Most likely not, no; but I think you should anyway. It deserves to be heard, [ not without a smile, ] and it took me quite a while to perfect. It'd be a shame for it to stay on the page exclusively.
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I'll wait until you have your violin again. I don't want to hear it from anyone else.
[No matter how much or how little time passes, they always end up back here, there, or somewhere else somehow. The time will come. He'll make it if he has to.]
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I'll try and remember to keep him in my car when possible. [ With a laugh in her voice; ] At least I didn't opt to play the cello instead, I suppose.
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The one that looks like a violin, but much larger - you sit down to play it, makes a gorgeous, rich sound.
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[If he ever knew, he must have forgotten.]
I've seen one before, I think. There was a play.
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Maybe next time this place will spawn next to a concert hall. I'd feel better about playing it for you on a stage rather than here.
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I'm not typically, no. I love performing though. It feels different if I'm playing or singing. They're enjoying the skill I'm showcasing rather than me alone.
It's the only time I don't mind having eyes on me.
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I don't know anything about performing like that. [He's always in the spotlight, though.] My talents aren't artistic.
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[ There's a hint of a smile that she doesn't bother to hide at the nose-crinkling. ]
It's sort of disgusting, right..? But not entirely bad either? Where I'm from, they're nowhere near this sweet.
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[They'll talk about pancakes instead. They'll talk about things that don't matter at all.]
I used to eat these as a kid, but we just ate them plain. Butter, maybe.
Nothing like this...
[It is good though, as much as it is sickening. He takes another bite.]
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I never got to eat them, not like this anyway. Traditionally they're much thinner where I'm from, and I'd be allowed those on a holiday named after them as a treat.
[ One of the first breakfasts she had with Magda was pancakes, American style. They'd been the best thing she'd ever tasted, and she'd cried the entire time until her plate was cleared. Probably kept going, she doesn't remember.
A sip of coffee follows that memory, chases it as she swallows it down. ]
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You come from a starving place.
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What was the reason?
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At the very least, she's glad for the plate of food; gives her something to busy her hands with. Something else to look at. ]
To keep me slender.
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[Something else occurs to him, and then he's glaring, sharp. It's in Esther's direction, but it isn't for her.
[Men, who keep women like slaves to their whims.]
Bullshit.
[His fist is clutching his knife, top lip tugging up in a snarl. He makes a short sound, then turns his head away. He glares out the window, into the ever empty, never-ending parking lot.]
It isn't that way anymore, right? [Of course not. Here she is, but for how long?] Forget I asked.
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She has another bite of food, and shakes her head. ]
No, not anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.
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[A beat passes, then another. He faces her again, but busies himself with eating. He finds he wants to know more, but, perhaps more oddly, doesn't want to ask.]
You seem capable.
[Does she look after herself now? Or is she under someone else's thumb?]
I can't imagine anyone keeping you in a cage.
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Both can be true. [ She shrugs, just the once. Resigned. ] At least the cage is bigger this time around. Can barely notice the bars most days.
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[In reality, his expression hasn't changed that much at all. He stares at her.]
Who keeps you now?
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[ Ezekiel is far too busy to ensure the bars are kept electrified. That's Magda's job. ]
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[At once, the topic seems to shift. Eren doesn't explain the sudden departure, facing Esther and saying:]
You're the only person I ever end up seeing when I come here. Did you know that?
:30:
SCREAMS SO FUCKING LOUD
:30shades:
STOP NOT THE HUMMUS