[Hector makes it sound so effortless. Giving in, reaching for the rare helping hand when it's offered. He has always struggled with being told that his way of doing anything is inefficient or wrong, that his best isn't good enough, but he can't deny any more than he can admit aloud that what Hector is telling him does make sense; he can recognize that his own bitterness has turned him away from making more sensible, pragmatic choices.
All that's come of digging in his heels is pity. And being asked to show some kindness to himself and to the body he's run ragged and carved his unrest and hurt into, to treat it just a little less like a tool, a means to an end, the way Dracula had. It's just the sort of thing Julia would have said, if she saw him now.
He's glad she can't. Or that if she already has, in one of her restless visions, that he has no way of knowing it.
He swipes at his face, angrily, his eyes filling, burning.
All he wants is to feel like himself again. Proud and vicious and unstoppable. He wants to smirk crookedly at this talk of massages and indulgent baths and answer with a snide proposal of his own, inviting Hector to wipe his ass for him if he was that eager to be of service. The laughter that used to come so easily to him doesn't this time, not today.
Something else snags low in his throat, a soft, choked noise, and he has to look away, hands fisted.]
no subject
All that's come of digging in his heels is pity. And being asked to show some kindness to himself and to the body he's run ragged and carved his unrest and hurt into, to treat it just a little less like a tool, a means to an end, the way Dracula had. It's just the sort of thing Julia would have said, if she saw him now.
He's glad she can't. Or that if she already has, in one of her restless visions, that he has no way of knowing it.
He swipes at his face, angrily, his eyes filling, burning.
All he wants is to feel like himself again. Proud and vicious and unstoppable. He wants to smirk crookedly at this talk of massages and indulgent baths and answer with a snide proposal of his own, inviting Hector to wipe his ass for him if he was that eager to be of service. The laughter that used to come so easily to him doesn't this time, not today.
Something else snags low in his throat, a soft, choked noise, and he has to look away, hands fisted.]