[Cade and his bandaged leg are waiting up at the top, sitting on the stairs that lead into the arch of the portcullis and wrapped up in a nice warm winter coat. He smiles a little when he sees Alistair, because he can't be aggravated 100% of the time. And he came all this way!]
[ He's allowed, it's all fine. Alistair doesn't even notice the sheepishness and therefore feels no need to do anything more reassuring than continuing to smile while he looks around the area. ]
Maybe. [Cade looks around, and is pleased to find that the area is mostly empty, save for a guard here and there doing what they do.]
Or... I don't know. Somewhere warmer. [Up on a mountain in the middle of Guardian isn't exactly a comfortable place and time to be spending a lot of time outside.]
...the kitchen? [Ascending too many stairs in his present state would be a mistake.]
[ Alistair brightens up -- food! he loves food! -- and then briefly looks eyebrow-creasingly thoughtful, mouth and gaze both twisted to one side, before he remembers Sabine doesn't really work in the kitchens anymore and brightens again. Not that he doesn't like to see her. He just would prefer not to see her while he's talking to Cade about this particular thing. And he would prefer for Cade not to see Alistair seeing her, with how dopey his face probably gets.
Anyway. ]
Sure. [ He starts that way, at a slow shuffling pace meant to allow Cade to keep up. ] I haven't eaten in at least an hour... How's your leg? Or whatever it is you hurt.
[An hour doesn't seem like very long, but Cade has heard things about the Wardens and their bottomless stomachs, so he doesn't comment. It's not like he never gets peckish himself.
He smiles uncertainly at Alistair as he hobbles his way across the courtyard-- of course it's his leg-- but he still looks down at it and shrugs.]
Um. It's fine.
[It's super not, but... he's Cade. When they reach the kitchen, he carefully lowers himself onto a bench at the table, where a few odds and ends have been left out for the people who inevitably come and go throughout the night.]
Riiight, [ Alistair says, knowingly, as a man who has also said it's fine when it is not fine. And also said I am going to die when he has a paper cut. Whatever. He doesn't press. He has food to eat, and— ] We were going to talk.
[Cade is partway through helping himself to a sweet roll when Alistair zeroes in, and though he's hardly surprised, it does give him pause.]
...right... [he stalls.
And then proceeds to stare at the table and not talk at all, but at least he has the decency to look troubled. He's been hoping for decades for this problem to go away, and confronting it has never been a possibility. And then there was the Fade, and... ...well, the damage is done.
Cade looks almost frozen, like if he holds completely still the world will forget he's here and move on without him.]
[ Alistair puts his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, turned at an angle to try to get into Cade's peripheral vision, if not the actual path of his gaze—eyes wide, eyelashes batting, the very picture of patient interest. Patient interest overdone to make a point.
[Cade notices this, but is put no further at ease. In fact, he pointedly looks away, but at least, finally, knows better than to push the limits of Alistair's persistence.]
I don't know. [ This is going great. ] Whatever you were going to say before you said never mind. Why you think you're in trouble. Did someone threaten you?
[Some time passes in which Cade deliberates, measuring his words and his emotions to ensure that he doesn't say something completely idiotic as soon as he opens his mouth.]
...no... [he murmurs-- he's not in trouble. At least not yet.]
I--!! [Damnit Alistair, now he's getting flustered.]
--he asked me what my problem is. I told him. It's not... it's not a personal thing, obviously... [He looks down at his hands, which are fiddling with the hem of his tunic. When he speaks again, it's barely above a mumble.]
I just. ...don't want to be around... that kind of person.
[ Alistair eats while he talks, eyes narrow in a thoughtful sort of way—kind of. Thoughtful in the way someone might be if someone was speaking a language they barely understood. ]
I think that kind of person is more common than you realize, [ he says. ] Cyril's just particularly open about it.
[Perhaps it is, and the idea makes Cade's heart beat uncomfortably fast. He frowns anxiously, hunching his shoulders.]
...but that's not normal. [Perhaps it is, but that's not what he wants to hear. If it's not normal, it means it can never happen again.] That's... that's not the way people are supposed to be.
[Unable to keep his hands still, Cade reaches for another bun, but puts it back in favor of pressing his fist against his lips, staring worriedly at a fixed point on the table.
It's obvious that he knows he's wrong, but admitting it... there's so much involved in that.]
[ Alistair isn't really a good person for this—he can listen fine, but dragging information out of people like pulling molars isn't his strong suit, and doing it sensitively and with unending patience is out of the question. He sighs and puts his roll down. ]
People hurt people all the time. It doesn't mean anyone who's like them in any way is also going to hurt people. Otherwise elves would have to steer a lot clearer of humans.
[The reference to elves may not have been intended as a dig, but Cade will always take it as such. He looks away with an avoidant frown, slouching in the way that seems intended to make himself smaller.]
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[His voice is always quiet, but it has been especially so for this exchange, since there are people trying to sleep around him.]
I can... meet you at the gate, if they let me walk around.
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[ It's a long walk. Uphill. Cade is welcome. ]=
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Ser Cade.
[ But he smiles back a bit. ]
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...Ser Alistair.
[He returns the joke almost sheepishly, like he isn't sure if he's allowed to use it. But he smiles when he says it, clearly hoping it's all right.]
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Are we talking here?
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Or... I don't know. Somewhere warmer. [Up on a mountain in the middle of Guardian isn't exactly a comfortable place and time to be spending a lot of time outside.]
...the kitchen? [Ascending too many stairs in his present state would be a mistake.]
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Anyway. ]
Sure. [ He starts that way, at a slow shuffling pace meant to allow Cade to keep up. ] I haven't eaten in at least an hour... How's your leg? Or whatever it is you hurt.
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He smiles uncertainly at Alistair as he hobbles his way across the courtyard-- of course it's his leg-- but he still looks down at it and shrugs.]
Um. It's fine.
[It's super not, but... he's Cade.
When they reach the kitchen, he carefully lowers himself onto a bench at the table, where a few odds and ends have been left out for the people who inevitably come and go throughout the night.]
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...right... [he stalls.
And then proceeds to stare at the table and not talk at all, but at least he has the decency to look troubled. He's been hoping for decades for this problem to go away, and confronting it has never been a possibility. And then there was the Fade, and...
...well, the damage is done.
Cade looks almost frozen, like if he holds completely still the world will forget he's here and move on without him.]
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He walked all the way up here, man. ]
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...what do you want to know.
[He's not ready. He'll never be ready.]
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...no... [he murmurs-- he's not in trouble. At least not yet.]
...but I think I made Cyril angry.
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[ He's helping. ]
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I didn't mean to.
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--he asked me what my problem is. I told him. It's not... it's not a personal thing, obviously... [He looks down at his hands, which are fiddling with the hem of his tunic. When he speaks again, it's barely above a mumble.]
I just. ...don't want to be around... that kind of person.
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I think that kind of person is more common than you realize, [ he says. ] Cyril's just particularly open about it.
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[Perhaps it is, and the idea makes Cade's heart beat uncomfortably fast. He frowns anxiously, hunching his shoulders.]
...but that's not normal. [Perhaps it is, but that's not what he wants to hear. If it's not normal, it means it can never happen again.] That's... that's not the way people are supposed to be.
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[Unable to keep his hands still, Cade reaches for another bun, but puts it back in favor of pressing his fist against his lips, staring worriedly at a fixed point on the table.
It's obvious that he knows he's wrong, but admitting it... there's so much involved in that.]
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People hurt people all the time. It doesn't mean anyone who's like them in any way is also going to hurt people. Otherwise elves would have to steer a lot clearer of humans.
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How can you be sure, [he asks timidly.]
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