Xerxes Break (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
payingfordeliverance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2022-02-12 11:03 am
payingfordeliverance) wrote in deercountry2022-02-12 11:03 am
Entry tags:
003: Seems to me quite clear, now — now that you are here — how easily I could begin again
Who: Break + various
What: Catchall log; closed starters, event overflows, etc. No open prompts.
When: January through February, perhaps into March
Where: Various
Content Warnings: Use of the heartstrings prompt from the January TDM (injury, body horror, burning, melting), and one bond pact (blood ceremony, bodily ceremony, telepathic/empathetic connections). One Mother's Mercy thread (intense guilt and shame, talk of grieving your own death, forced confession), and one using the really evil magic chocolate where you cough up an organ. Threads will be marked accordingly and further warnings added here as they come up.
What: Catchall log; closed starters, event overflows, etc. No open prompts.
When: January through February, perhaps into March
Where: Various
Content Warnings: Use of the heartstrings prompt from the January TDM (injury, body horror, burning, melting), and one bond pact (blood ceremony, bodily ceremony, telepathic/empathetic connections). One Mother's Mercy thread (intense guilt and shame, talk of grieving your own death, forced confession), and one using the really evil magic chocolate where you cough up an organ. Threads will be marked accordingly and further warnings added here as they come up.
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[Break has something of a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he says it, because he knows Qrow of all people is going to understand and appreciate this "problem". The duality of being so devoted to their respective packs while simultaneously being fiercely independent, and crotchety about it, is just one of the many, many things they've found in common over these last few months. As if following some invisible command, Break suddenly sweeps flawlessly out into exactly the sort of romantic, elegant dance that happens in so many of his musical princess movies, except at present he hasn't got a princess.
Or he hasn't got a prince, let's be real. He can go either way, and his lovely purple coat fans out around him just so. It's terribly satisfying.]
For me, to learn the steps on my own is no trouble. However, the second I've a partner to align my movements to, it aaaaaaaaaaall goes straight to shit.
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Maybe on another night, he'd resist harder; as Break knows, he too prefers the flexibility of acting alone, where one does not have to account for the movements of others when arranging one's own. And shameless as he might typically be, he doesn't quite relish the possibility of ending up in an embarrassing tangle of limbs on the ground.
But they are alone here, and there is a certain magic to the atmosphere Break has created beyond even that of Madam Generosity. This is a space meant to enjoy oneself without restraint. He steps into Break's space, heels clicking on the ballroom floor as the tailcoat flutters behind him, call and response.]
You know, my old teacher used to say that fighting and dancing had a lot in common. Maybe if you have a partner who looks at it like that, things'll fall into place?
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Break is not Sharon. He can have such thoughts cross his mind without getting into a tizzy over it. And anyway, dancing with Qrow would be fun. He'd bet money that what happens will be a silly attempt that devolves into spinning and roughhousing, the sort of game between them that never ends in anyone actually losing because they're evenly matched enough to enjoy themselves regardless. His impish smile turns into more of a wicked grin.]
I've been dancing with the wrong people in bending to the tastes of fancy noblewomen, is that what you're telling me? I need someone who can keep pace with me, and take it if my knee ends up somewhere it shouldn't be on a turn.
[While Baltus scuttles off to indulge in a fit of the zoomies and has fun sliding his noodley self across the smooth floor, Break lifts his hands to Qrow's arms, accepting the invitation.]
Then, who's leading?
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[There are probably not a dozen different forks, but even (1) fork is something Qrow wasn't used to for literally half his life, having grown up as a forest gremlin. He feels he deserves his sass, though, because he personally knows two entire Schnees and they are both unnecessarily fancy and also hilariously easy to rile.
And then there's Jacques, who just plain sucks.Break lifts his hands to Qrow's, and he sets one of his own on Break's shoulders and the other on his back, vaguely in the position he recalls from that one movie night. It's probably wrong, but at least they're not trying to impress anybody, here.]
Hmmmm... [He tilts his head, as though genuinely considering Break's question, before his expression settles into a faintly coy smirk.] You.
Unless you want to play guessing games with the steps, that is.
[Honestly, he wouldn't be opposed to that either.]
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[He says this like he isn't going to give Qrow the very basics and then spin him out into something way over his head to see if anything funny happens.
If Break is leading, it really should be his hand on Qrow's back. But, having it the other way around reminds him again of the roof jumping incident and how that same hand rested so pleasantly on his back to comfort him after, so he leaves it. Anyway, having his own hand on Qrow's shoulder instead will give him another way to guide him, letting him know whether he should step forward or back. He pauses to move Qrow's elbows up into the proper position, and then takes he hand Qrow has on his shoulder in his own, holding the two aloft.]
Now -- if I'm leading, your job is to be my reflection in the mirror. If one leaves out all the exciting turns and spins and such, the very base of a waltz is merely drawing a box upon the floor, yeah? So if I start forward with my left foot, you go back with your right, like so --
[The most gentle of pushes, to tell Qrow where he ought to be going. There isn't any music yet, save for the scrabble of Baltus's nails as he gets running starts for his slides across the floor, content to play by himself for the moment.]
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[That one's practically a direct flirtation, the way his expression goes nearly half-lidded, indolent as he "misses" a step, entirely too deliberate to be a genuine error. It's not the first time, of course; Qrow has been teasingly flirtatious with Break before, even as early as that time they'd wound up kidnapped by ravens on the corpse boat.
But they have been through a lot since that rainy September day, and it wouldn't be unreasonable if Break were to read a certain heat to the flirty tease that wasn't there before--in the way his gaze lingers nowadays, the way his smiles tend to hold rather than slip away as easily as vapor in the wind.]
...You know, it's actually not that hard, though.
[Or maybe Break's just good at teaching him. Either way, he's honestly surprised. Despite his teasing, he'd genuinely expected to trip over his own feet or Break's by now.]
Really does kind of feel like sparring, the way you match the flow of your movements to your partner's.
[Back when he was a teacher at Signal, modulating his speed and strength to suit the students he was working with was crucial, and it turns out that the skill really does translate. Who knew.]
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[Break finds this joke terribly funny, being the younger of the two -- visibly so, given that his face hasn't quite caught up with the end of his Contract yet. He will find it even funnier when the puppy crush comes out. In this moment, it's an easy joke to make. Qrow is his treasured confidante now, but he's also his favorite playmate, and Break knows enough about how casual the other man is with such things that he doesn't take any of his occasional fits of flirtiness personally. It's all in good fun.
If the energy behind it seems more intense than it used to, well. Break figures it's because he's wistfully looking for it, and never mind the invitation in the sly grin he always meets such comments with.]
But this basic step is the easy part, you know? Next you've got to do it while spinning about, and without bashing the knees of all involved.
[So saying, with no other warning, Break whisks Qrow off into the fancy turns he was showing off by himself earlier. It really is the same box step, just expanded to cover more directions and more space. This in itself is no issue whatsoever for professional swordsmen who have been drilling footwork for over half their lives. But here Break's problem with dance partners becomes evident. When he fights, he's honed in on ways to defeat his partner, aligning his movements with theirs not in cooperation but in order to directly interfere. He also doesn't have any true experience as a teacher. Matching himself to someone else doesn't come easily to him at all, and for all that he corrected their course easily when Qrow deliberately flubbed a moment ago, now Break flubs himself, the smoothness of the dance interrupted by his occasional hesitant pauses that throw off the rhythm. It's as though he can't quite convince himself that Qrow will react to his movements well enough to get out of his way as he moves, despite how easily and elegantly they move together when they spar. Break's steps forward aren't a strike, and Qrow's steps back aren't a parry.
Break doesn't have a single rueful feeling about his lack of talent in this regard, at least. He's long since given up on being any good at it. Any attempts he's made in recent years have been solely to humor Sharon, so this, too, is all in good fun.]
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[There's actually a suggestive brow raise at that. Nearly a waggle, even. And even with that extra sense of weight to it, there's no denying the goofiness of the whole exchange. Hanging out with Break puts him at ease in a way few others in his life ever has, and as before with Clover, Qrow doesn't notice the rabbit hole he's starting to slide down. That's the thing about someone making you feel safe; when all the hypervigilance and walls finally start to come down, you don't really feel their absence. It seems like the most natural thing in the world, just like breathing -- unless they give you a reason to pull them back up.
To date, Break is the only one who has ever failed to provide one. Qrow hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that being around Break made him feel like he could pretend to be "normal", and with even that last secret in the open between them he's only thinking about the game of it as they step and twirl around the ballroom. Which means that Qrow, who is inexperienced with the steps, and Break, who is poor at performing them with a partner, inevitably end up at a point where they mess up their footwork simultaneously, and the tangle of their legs in trying to correct themselves takes them unceremoniously to the floor.
And then, an amazing thing happens: Qrow ... laughs. He doesn't get upset about the mistake or the fall, doesn't go quiet or drawn with frustration, doesn't seem to even be thinking of his Semblance, despite the fact that both of them are on the floor and possibly at least one of their sets of fancy shoes has gotten a scuff in it.
It makes his face light all the way up, gives him the look of a man at least a good five years younger when the weight of all that stress and exhaustion and anxiety is lifted, if only for a moment. Perhaps for the first real time since Break has known him, honestly, there's nothing in the set of his shoulders but this peaceful contentment they're sharing right now.]
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He's been making the best of things, but Break is so, so full of pain and longing and there are holes in his heart he's only handling with any sort of grace because these feelings are so familiar they may as well be old friends. The annoying blood effects that have caused him to perk up and become sociable over these past few weeks have been a relief even if they aren't real, because they've helped him remember what it's like to roll out of bed in the morning with a skip in his step, and in the safety of the Snake Den he's allowed to have a taste of living without being terrified of his own capacity for destroying things. And now, here is Qrow, whose own dark secrets have been peeking out from behind his walls one at a time, one explanation after another as to why he himself is so prone to gloom and self-loathing. Here he is laughing like this and they're really just people right now, aren't they? Two people who can set down all those mutual burdens for a while and just enjoy one another's company.
In this moment, Break sees two entirely different timelines stretching out in front of him. In one, they untangle themselves and carry on and go right back to the way things have been, and that's a lovely timeline, to be sure. He could be satisfied with that timeline, and perfectly grateful to be living in it. But in the other, this feeling is something he can take into his hands right now and nurture, and it stays, and becomes something strong enough to carry them through everything else that's so reliable about dragging them both down.
Break's actual logical thoughts on the matter still tell him to enjoy the feeling while it lasts and then hold it close in private -- not because he's frightened or resentful of the way he's just been so thoroughly captured, but because it's exactly the sort of precious thing that warms his nights when he's lonely, something wonderful for him to protect. Instead, the potential in this moment, the dangling hope that he needn't always feel the way he's felt since he arrived and perhaps Qrow doesn't have to either, does him in. Once the breath he was holding has finally shuddered its way out of him and time starts moving again, there simply doesn't seem to be another choice.
His expression one of sleepy, dazed yearning, Break leans in and presses his mouth gently to Qrow's.]
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It's like that part of the movie where the soundtrack is paused and there's no dialogue, and everything moves in slow motion. There are lips pressed against Qrow's and breath hot against his mouth and though his body remembers what to do, returning that pressure on reflex for a moment, his mind blanks. He does not draw back dramatically, or push the other man off, but neither do his eyes slip closed in contentment, nor does he reach for Break to dig his fingers in his hair to pull him close, or anything like that.
He just kind of stands there, pressed together and frozen, until it becomes awkward enough that they naturally separate, magnets with opposite poles facing pushed apart.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but the sound is yet muted; whatever is in his thoughts are not for the audience to hear. A moment later, he closes it and goes still as the furniture when the last petal falls. Waiting for the magic words to restart him, perhaps, or simply a bird caught in the headlights like a deer, unable to remember he has wings instead of hooves.]
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But because of that the sense of something's wrong hits him before actual conscious thought does, a few seconds before the kiss ends so strangely.
In the cold chill that follows, motionless himself, Break puts his thoughts in order. Qrow is a flirt, someone who likes to enjoy himself with others. And he's an energetic guy. So, why is he so still like this? Shouldn't Qrow be grabbing him, if things were okay? The absence of soft laughter and a playful attempt to pin him down can be excused, perhaps, but shouldn't there be hands reaching for him, at the very least...?
When Break finds his own voice, it's much smaller than usual, and uncertain.]
...Qrow...?
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And yet, his heart is thudding in his ears, and the air feels like it's thin. It's as though the ground has disappeared beneath him, and he is falling without a landing strategy. The ground is coming up rapidly and it will hurt when he hits the ground; he is not ready not ready not ready, he will not land on his feet like this -- ]
I...
[His friend stands there looking at him so expectantly, waiting for an explanation that he does not have and the only thought that remains in a form he can parse at all is that he needs not to be here. He needs to leave, right now. Qrow's spent so much of his life trusting his gut feelings, both as a Huntsman and as someone with his particular semblance, that he doesn't really question the panic that bubbles up in him, doesn't really think at all about why this perfectly normal moment should make him feel so terrified when he's taken strangers in bars to bed back in Remnant, or even about the fact that he'd watched the last person he'd kissed get murdered less than six months ago and never made it out of the ocean in Trench.
All he knows is that he can't bear staring into the confused, distressed mirror of his own red eyes a moment longer. Qrow's gaze drops to the ground.]
I gotta -- go. I'll ... I'll see you later, Xerx.
[Before Break has a chance to say anything more, a bird has replaced the man, and it's gone.]
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The use of his precious old nickname just feels like a nail in a coffin, somehow.
When Alice's dimension crumbled at her distress, it was like a whole world collapsing, crashing to pieces that flew every which way and left him plunging into blackness. Break's own doesn't fail in nearly so dramatic a way. Rather, the ballroom simply slides itself into nonexistence, the magical splendor of it fading back into the tiny room Break took over in the Snake Den. He's left standing there in his violet finery, confused and distraught, with nothing but an equally bewildered omen and the bone-chilling awareness that, somehow, he has badly fucked up.
Break stays there for a long time, a part of him half-hoping Qrow will return. He doesn't.
The next few days are absolute hell on his nerves. Break spends them as he often does at times like these, reliving various moments over and over in an attempt to search for where exactly he went wrong. He can't actually find it. But the exercise keeps him from staring too hard at everything he's evidently just carelessly thrown away on an impulse. After all, he wouldn't have fallen in the first place if Qrow hadn't give him several different reasons to in a very short amount of time. What Break stands to lose here is something precious and enormous, something that has dictated his healing in this place.
And oh, it will haunt him terribly. Break knows it. This isn't like losing the Sinclairs, losing Shelly. Once they were gone, they were gone. If Break loses Qrow, it's not as though they won't still be living in the same hellhole of a town together. What stretches out in front of him is the possibility of a life spent constantly on the lookout for the flutter of black feathers in a town chock full of ravens, where every corner he turns might be the one that puts him face first with Qrow. Hell, maybe he's made enough of a mess that Qrow's Semblance will summon him. Maybe Break is damned to become one of Qrow's misfortunes now. It's impossible not to spiral into this line of thought, and every time he does, he starts the whole process over.
Someone close to him notices how out of sorts he is. He explains it away as being worried about a friend he's not heard from. They ask, very reasonably, if he has sent them a text, and pat his shoulder kindly when he makes baffled Victorian faces about it. Break allows the assumption that he's just a dotty oldtimer who doesn't think of technology, because it means he doesn't have to try and talk about why the notion of reducing all these feelings to a text feels riotously improper. A week ago he wondered whether Qrow would come to visit each day, and the thought made him giddy. Now, that same question fills him with dread that only increases over the course of the day, as it becomes clearer with each passing hour that he won't.
That's supposed to somehow become a text?
But it does give him a little clarity. No, it can't be a text, nor even a beautiful handwritten letter; Baltus helpfully promises to bite him if he attempts to squirrel out of this with pretty penmanship. There's nothing for it. If this situation is to be resolved, a conversation is going to have to happen in person. And so, in the late evening three days after The Incident, Break takes himself to the Clockhouse and sneaks up to Qrow's bedroom door. His omen's important duty will be to stand watch and be a cute and distracting doggo if anyone who might like to eavesdrop comes along. But first, Baltus stands close by and stares, offering his silent support until Break finally steels himself enough to lift his hand and knock.
Maybe Qrow won't even be inside. Break can't decide if it would be better or worse.]
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Even so, he's spent more time at the Clockhouse than usual, the last couple days. He's taken more time to hang out with Ruby and Ozpin and Oscar, to help out with household chores and with the garden. On some level, he doesn't entirely even notice -- avoiding uncomfortable feelings well enough to fool even himself had fueled over a decade of alcoholism, after all. He certainly hasn't told any of the kids about what happened. But on this particular evening, when Break comes up to his room he happens to be in it for the sake of showering, and the knock is answered with a call of just a minute before Qrow appears at the doorway with wet hair and a towel around his waist.
A long, awkward beat of frozen surprise passes before Qrow's brain has restarted enough to answer.]
....Hey.
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He gives Qrow a faintly offended look anyway, either because someone has clearly made this happen to him on purpose or because he is a Victorian and who in the hell answers the door for somebody in a towel? Maybe both. Baltus hides a doggy laugh behind a fake sneeze and trots off to see if Ruby is amiable to a game of tug-of-war.]
...what a day to possess eyesight. [To his credit, Break fails to turn as red as a steamed lobster, but he is very obviously struggling with his own rebooting brain and determined to keep his eye away from all these very interesting scars Qrow has, here. On the muscles, which he knew were there. He clears his throat, awkwardly.] Ah. Have you...a moment to chat, perhaps...?
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He glances between Break and his towel, experiencing a moment of indecision as to whether he should let Break in first or what, and then simply decides Fuck It and steps back a pace, going to fetch boxer shorts that are hanging from a corner of the dresser. What, you didn't expect him to be organized, did you.]
--Sure. Just uh, [he gestures, haplessly, with the shorts] one second. Sit wherever?
[Brb escaping to the bathroom]
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[The bed is too awkward by far, so Break just. Perches on some relevant piece of furniture. If there are no chairs readily available a trunk or even a dresser will do. It is not as though Xerxes Break possesses respect enough for the sanctity of furniture's intended purposes to not, indeed, sit wherever.
Spiritually, he is thoroughly ensconced in a blanketfort. He considered bringing donuts. He didn't, because it felt too much like bribery. Now he wishes he had, because he wants donuts. While Qrow is getting ready, Break attempts to soothe himself by thinking of Lady Sheryl, and how gently she always laughed at him when his nerves got the better of him and sent him into a tizzy. The feel of the room is awkward, certainly, but Qrow doesn't seem nearly so anguished to see him as Break was anticipating. So maybe it's all not as big a deal as he thought? Maybe it's fine and the worst thing about this will just be that he ends up feeling like an ass...?
...Break kissed him on impulse and Qrow literally ran from him, so he can't quite bring himself to believe that just yet.]
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If he lets himself think it isn't fine, then he has to think about the fact that almost without exception, the people he's allowed into his heart have left scars in it, and he is afraid of the pain.
It is so much safer if Xerxes Break is simply a good friend who got caught up in a moment in a Pthumerian's magic party, and the kiss doesn't matter. Everything is fine, because it has to be. Because if it weren't, and he were to have to take on yet another scar, he is not certain the entire structure will continue to hold.
So when he comes out of the bathroom, he doesn't bear the look of someone facing the gallows because he has decided that there's nothing to be upset about. That he finds a comfy spot to perch in beside Break, so he's not just automatically looking into his eyes just by being positioned across from him also definitely doesn't mean anything. It's all going to be fine.]
Heh, sorry, I don't exactly get company in here much.
[When he hangs out with the others, it's usually in the common areas, or him perching on Ozpin's shoulder in his study, after all.]
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At last, the best option is to simply blurt and get started.]
-- well then, I...came to apologize. Ah...it seems I've crossed a line.
[And so, they begin.]
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Qrow has never particularly liked seeing what was there whenever he uncovered too many of the cobwebs. This moment is no different. He lets a hand flap casually, and wears one of his old easy smiles, though there's something distant about it now. Break had only ever come to see him once they were already close, once Qrow had come to trust him enough to let down a few of his walls. This one is different; it's the kind of smile he wears for a stranger, for someone who is only meant to see the superficial charm and never know about the alcoholism or the semblance or the mentor who changed his life simply by believing in him strongly enough.]
Don't worry about it. Enchanted feel-good party like that, thrown by a Pthumerian? Stuff's bound to happen. Just kinda startled me is all, but it's fine.
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[The protest is immediate, even before Break glances up to catch that smile and is struck by the uncanny nature of it, as though the real Qrow has been replaced by something that is not quite correct, and scary for the subtle differences. It causes his heart to deflate in -- well, it's not really right to say despair, because it isn't anywhere close to the depths of the hopelessness Break has been through in the past.
Disappointment, perhaps. It would have been nice if Qrow's casual attitude meant it truly wasn't a bother, and it was really so simple as saying he was sorry and moving on. Indeed, Qrow is giving him the option to do just that. But even if Break had been truly willing to just let it go, the wrongness in that smile feels heavy on his heart, the same way Qrow's strange reaction to the kiss itself did. He can't let Qrow flap his way out of this again.
The last time Break lied to himself so thoroughly, he didn't realize just how badly he wanted to live until it was already far too late, and now all he has left of that life are the few charred kids that emerged from the fire with him when it all burned down. Because of that, for him, the idea of turning away from something important is what's truly frightening. He, too, is tired of losing people.]
In all the heavy, unpleasant things we've spoken of these past months, never once have you run away from me like that. Since that's the case, it means that -- if this is left unresolved, it's something that can ruin everything, right? I don't --
[He stops, fidgeting as he tries to gather the words he needs.]
...I should really...really hate that. If it were so.
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This moment has echoes of another, almost a year and a half ago now. Please don't leave me, Clover had said once. Back then, he'd been afraid that Qrow would reject him once he learned about what had happened in Atlas, about the secret he'd been keeping for six months. Break says it not as a prelude but as an apology, and it's different, but his gut still churns with it. He is too used to being taken for granted; mended fences with Ozpin doesn't erase his history, doesn't erase the tire tracks in his heart where so many had run roughshod over him on their way out. Raven, Lionheart, Ozpin, Ironwood, Clover. More whose names have since been lost in blood and alcohol, over the years.
You don't know my friends, he had said to Clover in Atlas, having lived that night for himself a good six months after first learning of it. This is how it always goes.
He is always, always waiting for the other shoe to drop -- for the abandonment, the betrayal. The grief, when it's neither of the above. He has never once been able to hold onto anything he loves.
(Even the loss of his nieces seems to await his original self, back in Remnant. He tries desperately not to think about it)
To hear Break express the fear that's haunted him his entire adult life, when he hasn't done anything wrong, not really -- it's like throwing a stick into the gears of a complicated mechanism and watching the whole thing seize up. He really doesn't know how to react to this, and it aches at him like a blister he can't reach. This was supposed to be easy. It's fine, and there's nothing more there needs to be to it than that. It's supposed to be fine -- why can't Break just let it be? Some Trench problem or another will distract them soon enough. It's not as though this is like Ford and Ozpin, with some dire breach of trust committed against him, and even if it were, he's apologized already and Qrow just wants to bury it now, so he doesn't have to think about it anymore.
He wants to be frustrated about that, wants to snap at the other man to just drop it, but there's something about how earnestly miserable the other man sounds that hits close to home, and he relents at last with a quiet exhale.]
It won't.
[Breathe in, breathe out. He steels himself to actually look at the other man so his words don't ring hollow. He can't tell a man he's already run away from once that he's not going anywhere and sound like he means it if he doesn't at least look him in the eye saying it.]
Look, far as I'm concerned, it's already resolved, okay? I'm sorry I ran off. I wasn't really thinking, then, but I'm not pissed or anything. We're really fine. If I didn't wanna see you, I'd have fucked off already. I dunno what else to say.
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But he also sees that the subject is not going to go any farther than it already has. On his end, really, Break is the mentor, and he's spent the past fifteen years or so keeping a careful eye on his kids...and their assorted deep-seated issues. If one is going to confront such things, it is crucial to be mindful of the timing. Sometimes someone simply isn't ready to hear this or that, not ready to confront something, and pushing the point will only drive someone to hide away further from the truth. After all that time observing them quietly and being careful to dole out his comments with slowness and intent, Break certainly isn't going to push Qrow about things now, when he's so clearly broadcasting an unwillingness to entertain the matter.
What else could Break say here, anyway? His intention was never to come in here and confess to having feelings like a besotted schoolgirl or anything like that. He meant to apologize for overstepping, and he's done so. He's expressed that he doesn't want things to fall away between them, and Qrow has said he's sorry for running in turn. Looking at it like that, the mission is complete, isn't it?
So why does everything still feel so off, like things just aren't settling back into their proper places?]
...alright.
[Break concedes, but as he looks away, his shoulders lift in the subconscious hunch that always turns up when he's hurting. In his head, he calls for his omen to start making his way back to his side.]
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It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thinks again. Things were supposed to go back to the way they were. Simple, and comfortable, and easy. Safe. Things always seem to get complicated somehow, and he's so tired.
And so he makes a bit of an impulsive choice of his own: Break withdraws, hunching into himself and clearly preparing for retreat, and though Qrow doesn't reach out physically to close that distance, to place a comforting hand on those shoulders, he doesn't feel right letting him go without doing something.
The olive branch that's extended does not exactly get offered gracefully; the tension that lingers in the room could still be cut with a knife, but at least he does try -- ]
...You uh, you wanna watch a movie or something?
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The trouble is that his nerves are entirely shot. He's already been struggling with his vision these past few days and now that the fight has gone out of him, the world is starting to blur. Break is still uncertain of how exactly his blindness works here, but he's sure he'll lose control of it entirely long before the movie's over. If he uses Baltus to see through, he may yet be able to hide it from Qrow, but -- if he can't, if Qrow notices, it's yet another thing, and if the kids show up he'll need to have his game face on for them, and it's all just...
Even a couple hours of holding it together feels like too much. He made it a point to be a little vulnerable tonight. What he'd really like to do is go lick his wounds where no one can see him.]
...I'm to be up early for the bakery tomorrow. [It's not a lie, and he does at least sound a little regretful. The catch is that Break is not the sort of person who prioritizes things like sleep and work over enjoying someone's company, and by now, Qrow has probably noticed this.] But, sometime soon...?
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