The reaction is, honestly, more than a little hard to read. Vrenille has to work to suss out just where precisely Barnes' discomfort lies. He knows it's there, knows that something shifts the moment he says the words, but precisely what and how...?
So there's this moment of the two of them sitting back in their chairs looking at each other, a moment in which Vrenille notices quite keenly all the places where he doesn't know Barnes all that well yet. What he can't tell, and what really worries him, is whether even coming now his confession is already arriving too late, already feeling like a betrayal, like he's been stringing Barnes along.
He spends a moment taking in all of what the man has said and turning it over in his head before he answers.
"Y'know, when Hakkyuu and I first started talking again, he seemed 'bout ready to tie himself in knots not to say what he'd been doing all those years we'd been apart. Not the time he spent with his mentor in the desert, not the work he did for the guild, but the stuff in between.
"Finally, when he just couldn't wiggle outta it any more, he told me 'Sometimes bad things need to happen to bad people. That's what I got paid for.'" He lets the remark settle for a moment before going on.
"From what you've said about what happened to you, maybe you had less say in it all than what he's had. I'm not askin' you to tell me--if you ever wanna you can, but I don't need to hear you say it either. Point is, I don't have a problem. The skills are the skills. The way I see it, there's no right or wrong with 'em. Good or bad, that's in the choices you make now. But you won't be the first assassin I've laid down and closed my eyes beside. I'm not gonna trust you any less for knowing."
Now as for the rest. Well the rest is complicated. It's a lot more complicated than he thinks Barnes knows or is even ready to hear about right now. He's going to try though: try to say as much of the truth--his own personal truth--as it's possible for him to.
"You're not a job. I can tell you that and it's true. But it's also messy. It's not so black and white, and you gotta understand that part too. What I do, it's about fucking and it isn't. This kinda work, there's all kinda ways you can do it. I do it by talking to people, listening to 'em, being what they need. Lotta the time, it doesn't start so far off from how I've been with you--bit less disclosure about me, bit more keeping my information private. But on the surface," he shrugs.
"So what makes the difference? How's the line drawn between you and them? If you expect that with them it's just sex and there's nothing personal about it you're gonna wind up pissed at me fast. Sometimes it is--quick suck in an alleyway for some coin, that sorta thing. Mostly it's not though.
"The best I can tell you is it's about boundaries. That's where the difference comes. I've thrown my lot in with you. That's what I'm doing here. That's the part that I don't sell."
And as should be perfectly clear from what he's saying, this is all the bald truth. If he was going to lie, then he could just offer empty, easy assurances in place of these messy ambiguities, pay lip service to putting Barnes' mind at ease. He's not doing that though. The truth might be difficult and complicated, but he's not going to gloss it over and pretend it's something it's not.
Still, the question is going to remain whether the thing that Vrenille can offer--the parts of himself that he has to give, even tarnished as they are--will be enough of him for Barnes to want to bother with. And for the moment he stays seated where he is, gives the man his space, and doesn't try to press for an answer.
no subject
So there's this moment of the two of them sitting back in their chairs looking at each other, a moment in which Vrenille notices quite keenly all the places where he doesn't know Barnes all that well yet. What he can't tell, and what really worries him, is whether even coming now his confession is already arriving too late, already feeling like a betrayal, like he's been stringing Barnes along.
He spends a moment taking in all of what the man has said and turning it over in his head before he answers.
"Y'know, when Hakkyuu and I first started talking again, he seemed 'bout ready to tie himself in knots not to say what he'd been doing all those years we'd been apart. Not the time he spent with his mentor in the desert, not the work he did for the guild, but the stuff in between.
"Finally, when he just couldn't wiggle outta it any more, he told me 'Sometimes bad things need to happen to bad people. That's what I got paid for.'" He lets the remark settle for a moment before going on.
"From what you've said about what happened to you, maybe you had less say in it all than what he's had. I'm not askin' you to tell me--if you ever wanna you can, but I don't need to hear you say it either. Point is, I don't have a problem. The skills are the skills. The way I see it, there's no right or wrong with 'em. Good or bad, that's in the choices you make now. But you won't be the first assassin I've laid down and closed my eyes beside. I'm not gonna trust you any less for knowing."
Now as for the rest. Well the rest is complicated. It's a lot more complicated than he thinks Barnes knows or is even ready to hear about right now. He's going to try though: try to say as much of the truth--his own personal truth--as it's possible for him to.
"You're not a job. I can tell you that and it's true. But it's also messy. It's not so black and white, and you gotta understand that part too. What I do, it's about fucking and it isn't. This kinda work, there's all kinda ways you can do it. I do it by talking to people, listening to 'em, being what they need. Lotta the time, it doesn't start so far off from how I've been with you--bit less disclosure about me, bit more keeping my information private. But on the surface," he shrugs.
"So what makes the difference? How's the line drawn between you and them? If you expect that with them it's just sex and there's nothing personal about it you're gonna wind up pissed at me fast. Sometimes it is--quick suck in an alleyway for some coin, that sorta thing. Mostly it's not though.
"The best I can tell you is it's about boundaries. That's where the difference comes. I've thrown my lot in with you. That's what I'm doing here. That's the part that I don't sell."
And as should be perfectly clear from what he's saying, this is all the bald truth. If he was going to lie, then he could just offer empty, easy assurances in place of these messy ambiguities, pay lip service to putting Barnes' mind at ease. He's not doing that though. The truth might be difficult and complicated, but he's not going to gloss it over and pretend it's something it's not.
Still, the question is going to remain whether the thing that Vrenille can offer--the parts of himself that he has to give, even tarnished as they are--will be enough of him for Barnes to want to bother with. And for the moment he stays seated where he is, gives the man his space, and doesn't try to press for an answer.