[Break has locked away the bad luck charm from Dorothea in the basement, but failed to account for the other one -- sitting directly across from him munching on potatoes. How unfortunate, indeed. For the first time, Break gets to watch Qrow's expression crumble in parallel to that glass, and it would be almost comical how quickly his entire posture goes from relaxed and open to wound tight with tension, shoulders hiked in agitation, if it weren't honestly kind of sad.
After a moment of silence thick enough to cut with a knife, Qrow finally sighs, getting up to search for a broom to sweep up the shards with the look of a man off to his own gallows. Except he's either forgotten where said broom was kept, or the sentient house has decided to play hide-and-seek with him, maybe as a sign that he really should just relax ... but Qrow is entirely too sensitive about this kind of thing to take it with good humor.
His expression is all but forlorn as he kicks a few away from Break's immediate fluffy-socked path, feeling that familiar shame crawl up his spine again as he drags the trash can over and kneels down to just pick them up by hand. It's not like he needs to anymore, now that Break can see the pieces for himself, but that doesn't seem to have occurred to him; he's too lost in his own thoughts, and the guilt that seeps in to accompany the typical shame. He hasn't told Break yet, which perhaps isn't a surprise given the seventeen years he hid it from his own nieces, but they've been spending time together frequently enough recently that he really ought to admit to it so the man can at least be prepared for the things that go wrong around him.
But as usual, he can't bring himself to do it. It's not even like anyone had been unkind to him about it in the dream; Vyng and Gerry and Ford had reacted with varying levels of unconcern or even excitement, in Ford's case. Even so, the scars linger; he's too afraid of the potential for it to change how Break looks at him. It's been so long since he's had a connection with someone who simply didn't know, with whom he could forget that he was cursed, even if just for a little while.
The words die in his throat, and he returns to miserably picking up the shards in silence. At length:]
slides in here three weeks late with starbucks
After a moment of silence thick enough to cut with a knife, Qrow finally sighs, getting up to search for a broom to sweep up the shards with the look of a man off to his own gallows. Except he's either forgotten where said broom was kept, or the sentient house has decided to play hide-and-seek with him, maybe as a sign that he really should just relax ... but Qrow is entirely too sensitive about this kind of thing to take it with good humor.
His expression is all but forlorn as he kicks a few away from Break's immediate fluffy-socked path, feeling that familiar shame crawl up his spine again as he drags the trash can over and kneels down to just pick them up by hand. It's not like he needs to anymore, now that Break can see the pieces for himself, but that doesn't seem to have occurred to him; he's too lost in his own thoughts, and the guilt that seeps in to accompany the typical shame. He hasn't told Break yet, which perhaps isn't a surprise given the seventeen years he hid it from his own nieces, but they've been spending time together frequently enough recently that he really ought to admit to it so the man can at least be prepared for the things that go wrong around him.
But as usual, he can't bring himself to do it. It's not even like anyone had been unkind to him about it in the dream; Vyng and Gerry and Ford had reacted with varying levels of unconcern or even excitement, in Ford's case. Even so, the scars linger; he's too afraid of the potential for it to change how Break looks at him. It's been so long since he's had a connection with someone who simply didn't know, with whom he could forget that he was cursed, even if just for a little while.
The words die in his throat, and he returns to miserably picking up the shards in silence. At length:]
...Sorry for the mess.