A part of his mind can't help but rebel to the fact. The cutting tone he uses to slice John down lives rent-free in his own head and protests it viciously.
John knows him. John's seen every last loathsome thing he's done, now, he- they both know about Mr. Faust, and Larson and--
And... Faroe. John knows how unfit he is, to receive any grace or blessing, because who is he if all the love he had wasn't enough to keep her alive? What sort of broken man does that makes him?
The question back - well. That's hardly one at all, really.
"I do love you, John," he says, quietly and firmly. "Without question. That- why else would our victories be so sweet, o-or our arguments so- so raw and bitter. I just..."
His next pull of the cigarette is foul, and he makes a face. The fucking filters on these modern cigarettes are going to do his head in if the King fucking doesn't.
He folds one leg over so he can stub the butt out on his sole. "I just don't know what worth that might have, from me."
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A part of his mind can't help but rebel to the fact. The cutting tone he uses to slice John down lives rent-free in his own head and protests it viciously.
John knows him. John's seen every last loathsome thing he's done, now, he- they both know about Mr. Faust, and Larson and--
And... Faroe. John knows how unfit he is, to receive any grace or blessing, because who is he if all the love he had wasn't enough to keep her alive? What sort of broken man does that makes him?
The question back - well. That's hardly one at all, really.
"I do love you, John," he says, quietly and firmly. "Without question. That- why else would our victories be so sweet, o-or our arguments so- so raw and bitter. I just..."
His next pull of the cigarette is foul, and he makes a face. The fucking filters on these modern cigarettes are going to do his head in if the King fucking doesn't.
He folds one leg over so he can stub the butt out on his sole. "I just don't know what worth that might have, from me."