He’d once had more grace in conversation. Once been able to approximate the broader points of amenability and diplomatic discourse. But once had been a long time ago now. He’d never been particularly skilled, but he had tried at least. Unfortunately it seems such limited ability is much too easily lost when it is left unused. And so those who have the regrettable pleasure of encountering him anymore are more often than not met my stilted conversation and an almost rough indifference.
There is no cruelty or ill-intent in it. He’d never been a man that harbored such things. But the long years since he’d last held himself accountable to polite society had hewn away any of those plastered edges, leaving behind only the raw, gritty shape of the man he is beneath. All semblance of masked gentility is gone now, with only the brutally honest core he had once worked to soften left behind.
This stranger couldn’t know that, of course. Perhaps they’ve met before, but he doubts it. At least, he hopes not, lest his memories prove further removed than he had feared.
And perhaps she would misinterpret his unrefined edges as callous disregard, but he hadn’t the strength to pretend anymore. Could no longer bring himself to care if there were some who shied away from his clipped attempts at conversation and too-stern features. At some point he had realized how immaterial and fleeting such things were. They would be gone soon enough while he weathered on, their opinions holding no influence over the course his life might take.
Whether she would be one of them remained to be seen.
His gravelly greeting had served to draw her attention. She remains wary, despite the few paces she closes between them. It’s easy enough to see in the reserved lines of her pale skin and the closely-guarded question she asks. Were he to say no, she’d likely continue on her way. Were he to say yes, they might stumble through a half-hearted conversation wherein she ultimately has no means by which to actually aid him anyway.
An unsurprising catch 22, with only one answer he could possibly give.
“I doubt it,” he rumbles, the steely black of his eyes holding no hint of dishonesty or false hope. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she could. But he’d uttered only the truth in that rather uncompromising statement.
quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast
hide your soul out of his reach
Hurricane