[ He tips his head in vague acknowledgment of the praise, not at all eager to dwell on his capacity to keep things together or where it might have been learned. They are not here to unpack the whole of his story, which would take more than one can fit into an afternoon chat, besides. He has long since come to think it can't even be fit into a lifetime. There is no one who understands, not fully; the one person who does is finally dead.
Willow says deal with them and let them go, and he rankles. He always does, at something so plainly reductive; it sounds young of her, and that only widens the gulf between them.
She takes the legs out from under his offense when she says like family. ]
I... appreciate that, Willow.
[ He settles, reluctantly and unwillingly, into a softer tone. For a moment the silence hangs between them. The library, with its grand windows, feels uncomfortably cold and empty. He does not know quite where to go from here: what she wants from him he is not eager to give. Or, quite frankly, much good at. ]
It is never easy to realize some things are beyond one's expertise... even after all these years.
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Willow says deal with them and let them go, and he rankles. He always does, at something so plainly reductive; it sounds young of her, and that only widens the gulf between them.
She takes the legs out from under his offense when she says like family. ]
I... appreciate that, Willow.
[ He settles, reluctantly and unwillingly, into a softer tone. For a moment the silence hangs between them. The library, with its grand windows, feels uncomfortably cold and empty. He does not know quite where to go from here: what she wants from him he is not eager to give. Or, quite frankly, much good at. ]
It is never easy to realize some things are beyond one's expertise... even after all these years.