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I know I screwed up, alright?
So I don't need to go and kick his ass for breaking your arm.
[She fucked up, but it wasn't entirely on her.]
He had me pinned to the floor and told me he'd break my arm, and then he did it when I decided to defend myself.
[He's grinding his teeth, hands clasped tightly together between his knees.]
But you broke. Into his room.
[He's a man of violence himself. He refused to shoot William, but he did punch him for the exact same thing. If William had fought back, who knows what could have happened?]
Do you hear yourself, Tess? [He's trying not to get angry with her, but after what happened just days ago it's hard to hold down.]
You broke into his private, personal space, tried to steal one thing, couldn't find it, and decided to just steal more of his things? You tried asking him, before all this?
You shoulda known better than to do it in the first place! You go for a break-in, you make a goddamn plan - and you don't commit the crime at all if it's not worth it! It's one damn handkerchief, Tess, it ain't worth the trouble!
He pushed me around and disrespected me, and it's mine.
You were supposed to come to me!
[He gets up, agitated and eager for something to hit and removing himself from any targets. He's feeling a little short of breath because of it, the cold not having done his lungs good to begin with.]
But he needs to space, so she just waits, her good arm holding the other in the sling, pain completely absent under a thick layer of stress.
And then:]
I know I'm not good at this. I'm sorry.
[He knows she's in pain, and he can see, through his own anger, that this is hurting her. That she doesn't like that he's angry. But he doesn't like it either, and he's not the one causing the problem.]
Maybe I was just being a damn fool for thinking it might work for longer than a few days. Maybe I made a mistake.
Maybe I should let you be for a bit, huh?
Yeah. Maybe.
[Because right now he isn't feeling charitably towards her at all, and he doesn't like that.]
Alright. I'll check in with you in a couple days.
[He nods, tightly, arms crossed. Some trust has been lost, and he can't hide that from her. Shouldn't.
Still. He doesn't make it a few days, because Yunlan's let him know what she's taken. So he sends her a message:]
If I can get you the handkerchief back, will you give me his belongings?
Yeah, that can be arranged.
Yeah. Don't I know it. [He sounds tired, most of all. Worried.]
I'll leave you be.
[And he does - until the next day, when he sends him a message:]
She can give me your things, in exchange for the handkerchief. I assume the blood's already washed off?
[And he will; the handkerchief's folded and tucked in an envelope. He's attached, in a spirit of deep sarcasm, a stick-on bow to the outside.]
Tell you the truth, not precisely.
And he doesn't elaborate. Yunlan is at his door minutes later, handing him the handkerchief.
[He finds it after Yunlan's already left, and sends him back:]
You're a real gentleman.
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