[ He tightens at the accusation, in the set of his shoulders and his grip upon the cocoa mug. It is warranted, but still Ozpin is silent a beat. He allows: ]
He was entitled to his anger. [ As were you, he does not say. ] I... fear I hurt him deeply. [ As I did you. ] We have met again [ 'met' ] only through the town's influences, as I'm sure you can imagine.
Without that pressure upon us... in truth, it is difficult to know where to begin.
[Would they have sorted out their issues without the weight of Deerington's various disasters? Without the memories he witnessed in that field of flowers, without October? Qrow wonders about that, at times. It was part of why he chose to put words to the forgiveness that was settling in his heart, as the dream crumbled. If they forgot everything they went through in Deerington and returned to their unstoppable apocalypse like nothing ever happened, he didn't want to leave it unsaid.
He's had his share of similar curses in Trench, but his lingering resentments involve people who are not here; the situation is different when what you need to do is bare your wounds to someone new, and hope for them to be handled gently.]
How about at the beginning? "I'm sorry" makes for a pretty decent conversation starter.
[ In his silence is skepticism and deep resignation: he cannot believe that it would be so simple, with Stanford. The man is brilliant, passionate, and deeply stubborn.
Hm. Perhaps not altogether different from Qrow, in many regards. But Ford has made it very clear where his loyalties lie, and Ozpin has never truly been his family.
He and Qrow had twenty years of history, of trust and blood and purpose. With Stanford he can claim nothing more than a few months' friendship, companionship. A fast-paced but fleeting affection.
(He cannot help but remember the way Stanford curled into him after Stanley's death, all the same.) ]
I don't imagine he would respond well to an effort to initiate contact; that much has been made clear to me. [ Months ago and in few words. Obviously. ] But... I suppose I will bear it in mind as good advice, all the same. The world we share seems to be a small one, and this time, I believe it is here to stay.
[Oz's skepticism is met with the same in response. One advantage to a broken pedestal is being able to see his longtime friend and mentor with much clearer eyes, and he can't help but think this is familiar. He noticed Oz dodged answering his earlier question, too. Qrow can sense the beginnings of retreat in that resignation but all the same he presses on, just a little further.]
Did he actually say that, though?
[He's still thinking about that blood drinking incident, as he asks this. Qrow recalls something he said to Oz, that day amidst a different snowstorm and his cape wrapped around him. That even if there came a time they stopped talking, he would always be someone Oz could call on for help.
If that's the kind of thing Ford still feels, whatever is between them cannot be irreparable. It isn't hopeless so long as Ford still cares. Qrow had realized that for himself pretty early on, in Deerington; the reason it all hurt so much is because he couldn't simply cut away all that devotion he'd held for twenty years. He bled because those arteries still led back directly to his heart.]
Maybe that's what he's waiting for, you know? A reason to try again.
[ Qrow presses, and Ozpin begins to regret this conversation. It is, as expected, not a comfortable one. He so rarely feels this thoroughly cornered, because he so rarely feels this thoroughly seen. ]
In essence. [ His tone has gone a little stiff, edging defensive. But it begins to bleed out of him in a slow exhale, after.
He cannot help but think of Ford in that dark tunnel, all vulnerabilities bared, listening to what Ozpin had to say. ]
Should the opportunity arise... I suppose the situation could benefit from an attempt at connection, however slim the odds.
[It's still not a straight answer, which tells Qrow he is likely right, honestly--Oz has convinced himself the situation between them is too dire and that reaching out will only make things worse. Qrow lets out a little exhale of his own--Oz may have lowered his walls just enough for him to climb them a little, onto a proper foothold, but he will not be allowed inside. He can already sense the windows shuttering, as it were. He won't get much further than this.
Even if part of him really does want to just lure Ford to the house with the promise of letting him Do Science with his semblance and then fucking off the moment he spots Oz.]
Well...in the meantime, you've got us.
[He smiles a little, picking up his neglected cocoa from the table to sip at again. Good thing he's a garbage disposal and temperature doesn't really matter to him.]
Just...maybe keep us a little more in the loop, yeah?
[It's not the angry, desperate demands of a year and a half previous. Only a request of a friend, who wants to be there. Qrow learned about what happened with Ford in March. He learned that Oz had been assaulted through a network post of stupid rumors and bullshit. He doesn't want to be the last one to know when bad things happen to Ozpin, even if he's still able to take it on faith that Oz will tell him the things he needs to know.]
[ The tension in his shoulders unwinds. Ozpin exhales another slow breath, and he looks to Qrow with the warmth clear again in his eyes. He does not say Thank you in so many words, but it shows in the relaxing of his smile.
A bit deadpan: ]
Even regarding my romantic life? I shouldn't think it a particularly sought-after topic.
[ A beat as he considers this. ]
Aside, perhaps, from its entertainment value among the younger of our number.
[He lets out a amused huff at that, giving Oz a playful elbow to the ribs.]
You know what I mean. The stuff that matters. To you.
[A gentle addition. Oz tends not to think most things that have the possibility of troubling others might be particularly important for them to know. Qrow understands more than he cares to admit, and yet, he asks it of him anyway, because they have been through simply too much, worked too hard to rebuild their trust to hold onto that distance.]
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no subject
He was entitled to his anger. [ As were you, he does not say. ] I... fear I hurt him deeply. [ As I did you. ] We have met again [ 'met' ] only through the town's influences, as I'm sure you can imagine.
Without that pressure upon us... in truth, it is difficult to know where to begin.
no subject
He's had his share of similar curses in Trench, but his lingering resentments involve people who are not here; the situation is different when what you need to do is bare your wounds to someone new, and hope for them to be handled gently.]
How about at the beginning? "I'm sorry" makes for a pretty decent conversation starter.
no subject
Hm. Perhaps not altogether different from Qrow, in many regards. But Ford has made it very clear where his loyalties lie, and Ozpin has never truly been his family.
He and Qrow had twenty years of history, of trust and blood and purpose. With Stanford he can claim nothing more than a few months' friendship, companionship. A fast-paced but fleeting affection.
(He cannot help but remember the way Stanford curled into him after Stanley's death, all the same.) ]
I don't imagine he would respond well to an effort to initiate contact; that much has been made clear to me. [ Months ago and in few words. Obviously. ] But... I suppose I will bear it in mind as good advice, all the same. The world we share seems to be a small one, and this time, I believe it is here to stay.
no subject
Did he actually say that, though?
[He's still thinking about that blood drinking incident, as he asks this. Qrow recalls something he said to Oz, that day amidst a different snowstorm and his cape wrapped around him. That even if there came a time they stopped talking, he would always be someone Oz could call on for help.
If that's the kind of thing Ford still feels, whatever is between them cannot be irreparable. It isn't hopeless so long as Ford still cares. Qrow had realized that for himself pretty early on, in Deerington; the reason it all hurt so much is because he couldn't simply cut away all that devotion he'd held for twenty years. He bled because those arteries still led back directly to his heart.]
Maybe that's what he's waiting for, you know? A reason to try again.
no subject
In essence. [ His tone has gone a little stiff, edging defensive. But it begins to bleed out of him in a slow exhale, after.
He cannot help but think of Ford in that dark tunnel, all vulnerabilities bared, listening to what Ozpin had to say. ]
Should the opportunity arise... I suppose the situation could benefit from an attempt at connection, however slim the odds.
[ Translated: he'll try. ]
no subject
Even if part of him really does want to just lure Ford to the house with the promise of letting him Do Science with his semblance and then fucking off the moment he spots Oz.]
Well...in the meantime, you've got us.
[He smiles a little, picking up his neglected cocoa from the table to sip at again. Good thing he's a garbage disposal and temperature doesn't really matter to him.]
Just...maybe keep us a little more in the loop, yeah?
[It's not the angry, desperate demands of a year and a half previous. Only a request of a friend, who wants to be there. Qrow learned about what happened with Ford in March. He learned that Oz had been assaulted through a network post of stupid rumors and bullshit. He doesn't want to be the last one to know when bad things happen to Ozpin, even if he's still able to take it on faith that Oz will tell him the things he needs to know.]
no subject
A bit deadpan: ]
Even regarding my romantic life? I shouldn't think it a particularly sought-after topic.
[ A beat as he considers this. ]
Aside, perhaps, from its entertainment value among the younger of our number.
[ The group chat is always coming for him. ]
no subject
You know what I mean. The stuff that matters. To you.
[A gentle addition. Oz tends not to think most things that have the possibility of troubling others might be particularly important for them to know. Qrow understands more than he cares to admit, and yet, he asks it of him anyway, because they have been through simply too much, worked too hard to rebuild their trust to hold onto that distance.]