[ It's a little over a week since the last of them, himself included, got back from the Aerie. This is one conversation he's not sure it's time for, if it ever will be, but at the very least there's a courtesy due. ]
I'll be going back to work in the next week or so. I intend to work around existing shifts and I'll add myself to the schedule to make that easier on everyone, but I wanted to make you aware that I'll be back in the building.
[ It doesn't quite say all it needs to. The conversation doesn't even look to be on the table, and that's taking a different flavour of control. What he's trying to do is to take none. He's had more than his share of dominion over other peoples actions. ]
There are no expectations. If you need to minimize the risk of an encounter, let Clarke know you're taking leave and I'll ensure you're paid.
[ And that's— all he can say, really. Without overstepping his purpose and placing any undue pressure on Nate to engage. It feels cold, but better that than warm.
A notice. Nothing more, nothing less. It's the best he can do. ]
[ There's an instant, spasmodic fear upon seeing Stephen Strange's name cropping up in his inbox. Like twenty years of being the racehorse in someone's barn jerks a leash he knows isn't there anymore. The sensation dissipates just as soon as it arrives and Nate is left
tired. ]
i've been considering quitting. not because of you or the aerie, just because it's not the best job for me right now, and this seems like a good time to officially do that. you don't have to worry about running into me on shift.
[ Everyone keeps beating around the goddamn bush, himself included. He should probably let it lie but the freedom of emotional honesty is really starting to show its merits. ]
for the record, though, this apology kind of sucks? we all did shitty things. i've got a lot of blood on my hands i get to account for, but i'm not sending people office memos about it like an hr rep navigating someone's sexual harassment case at telemarketers, inc.
[ A bubble swells and bursts somewhere in his chest, leaving behind it a churning miasma of dread. Having avoided feeling much of anything until now, it doesn't come as too much of a surprise to find himself faintly nauseous. This was not a conversation he'd wanted to do wrong.
New habits born of really, really old ones kick in. He replies as the rest of him is still busy reeling, and there's a whole paragraph of justification blinking in his messaging box before he catches up with himself and has just enough wherewithal to delete it before it's sent. All that's left is one line: ]
I'm sorry. I made the wrong call.
[ Apologizing for what happened in the Aerie with his message had never been the intention - you can't apologize for what he'd done to Nate with a text. But he'd clearly made a misjudgement in choosing allowing him space over reaching out. Or perhaps just in the way he'd done it. The frantic, reawakened part of him races in circles of thought, searching for the moment he should've come to a different conclusion and made a different choice, desperately seeking out a resolution that can't retroactively be made.
The rest, disconnected, watches impassively on, content in the deed having been done and its consequences having already come to pass. A thin strain of indignation, perhaps, at his giving so much ground without a fight. ]
[ Nate gets that tickling, tingling sensation that suggests he just managed to narrowly dodge an essay's worth of material. ]
yeah, probably. i'm sorry for being a dick, but i'm trying to compensate for the 2 decades where i was doormat, so we're all screwing up in some form or another.
i can't say i'm not going to instinctively seize up the next time i see you, but i figure it's like exposure therapy. pretending it's not a thing doesn't make it go away. trust me, i've tried that.
i've also done the whole 'feel really crappy about awful things you did that affected other people' thing before and it doesn't help anybody, so don't feel like you have to do social parkour for my sake. we can't move forward if we keep feeling bad about what we can't take back.
I'm not going to apologize to you about this over text. You're owed better than that, unless that's how you'd prefer it. Better than this, too, I know. But I didn't want to you to bump into me at work if you weren't ready and I didn't know how to broach that without implying an obligation for you to talk about it.
[ It sounds coarse, as academic as everything else he says these days, words forming points forming paragraphs. He can see it happening. He has no idea how to stop it, how to get on the level Nate's on now.
The problem is with feeling bad, but only insofar as knowing that he feels bad had informed his decision not to engage with those feelings. Remorse as he's manifested it in the past has consequences he can't afford now— the need for recovery and, more to the point here, a lack of emotional control. The danger in feeling and the expression of it is that words spoken with emotion influence people in ways you can't predict. Emotion manipulates without meaning to.
Manipulating people in very direct, abjectly horrible ways is fresh enough in his memory that he'd rather never do it again, to any extent, if he can knowingly avoid it. But if this is the result, maybe he's going to have to reconsider his options.
Should've just fucking asked him if he wanted to talk about it in the first place. In hindsight that might not have been such a big, bad, terrible thing to do.
We can't move forward if we keep feeling bad about what we can't take back. Forward it is then. Or if not forward, then at least adjacent. Somewhere other than stuck in the same spot, a river flowing around a rock. ]
[ Nate thinks Stephen might need to take a leaf out of the same book he peddled on Nate back when Sam arrived, but he knows he's in no state to say so without coming across like a total asshole. There's just the need for space, critical to recovery. Until he can at least get the right thoughts in his head without the kneejerk desire to immediately delete Stephen's messages from his inbox.
But that's Nate's problem. ]
i think the only thing i need right now is time.
[ And a really good disguise he can wear out of doors. ]
[ It's a fair request, and all he'd been intending to give. The state of his attempt is a fairly sure sign that, in spite of all his determined assertions otherwise, Nate might not be the only one who needs more time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@stephen.strange
I'll be going back to work in the next week or so. I intend to work around existing shifts and I'll add myself to the schedule to make that easier on everyone, but I wanted to make you aware that I'll be back in the building.
[ It doesn't quite say all it needs to. The conversation doesn't even look to be on the table, and that's taking a different flavour of control. What he's trying to do is to take none. He's had more than his share of dominion over other peoples actions. ]
There are no expectations. If you need to minimize the risk of an encounter, let Clarke know you're taking leave and I'll ensure you're paid.
[ And that's— all he can say, really. Without overstepping his purpose and placing any undue pressure on Nate to engage. It feels cold, but better that than warm.
A notice. Nothing more, nothing less. It's the best he can do. ]
no subject
tired. ]
i've been considering quitting. not because of you or the aerie, just because it's not the best job for me right now, and this seems like a good time to officially do that. you don't have to worry about running into me on shift.
[ Everyone keeps beating around the goddamn bush, himself included. He should probably let it lie but the freedom of emotional honesty is really starting to show its merits. ]
for the record, though, this apology kind of sucks? we all did shitty things. i've got a lot of blood on my hands i get to account for, but i'm not sending people office memos about it like an hr rep navigating someone's sexual harassment case at telemarketers, inc.
i'm not your employee. i'm your fucking friend.
no subject
New habits born of really, really old ones kick in. He replies as the rest of him is still busy reeling, and there's a whole paragraph of justification blinking in his messaging box before he catches up with himself and has just enough wherewithal to delete it before it's sent. All that's left is one line: ]
I'm sorry. I made the wrong call.
[ Apologizing for what happened in the Aerie with his message had never been the intention - you can't apologize for what he'd done to Nate with a text. But he'd clearly made a misjudgement in choosing allowing him space over reaching out. Or perhaps just in the way he'd done it. The frantic, reawakened part of him races in circles of thought, searching for the moment he should've come to a different conclusion and made a different choice, desperately seeking out a resolution that can't retroactively be made.
The rest, disconnected, watches impassively on, content in the deed having been done and its consequences having already come to pass. A thin strain of indignation, perhaps, at his giving so much ground without a fight. ]
no subject
yeah, probably. i'm sorry for being a dick, but i'm trying to compensate for the 2 decades where i was doormat, so we're all screwing up in some form or another.
i can't say i'm not going to instinctively seize up the next time i see you, but i figure it's like exposure therapy. pretending it's not a thing doesn't make it go away. trust me, i've tried that.
i've also done the whole 'feel really crappy about awful things you did that affected other people' thing before and it doesn't help anybody, so don't feel like you have to do social parkour for my sake. we can't move forward if we keep feeling bad about what we can't take back.
no subject
I'm not going to apologize to you about this over text. You're owed better than that, unless that's how you'd prefer it. Better than this, too, I know. But I didn't want to you to bump into me at work if you weren't ready and I didn't know how to broach that without implying an obligation for you to talk about it.
[ It sounds coarse, as academic as everything else he says these days, words forming points forming paragraphs. He can see it happening. He has no idea how to stop it, how to get on the level Nate's on now.
The problem is with feeling bad, but only insofar as knowing that he feels bad had informed his decision not to engage with those feelings. Remorse as he's manifested it in the past has consequences he can't afford now— the need for recovery and, more to the point here, a lack of emotional control. The danger in feeling and the expression of it is that words spoken with emotion influence people in ways you can't predict. Emotion manipulates without meaning to.
Manipulating people in very direct, abjectly horrible ways is fresh enough in his memory that he'd rather never do it again, to any extent, if he can knowingly avoid it. But if this is the result, maybe he's going to have to reconsider his options.
Should've just fucking asked him if he wanted to talk about it in the first place. In hindsight that might not have been such a big, bad, terrible thing to do.
We can't move forward if we keep feeling bad about what we can't take back. Forward it is then. Or if not forward, then at least adjacent. Somewhere other than stuck in the same spot, a river flowing around a rock. ]
If you need anything. Anything, Nate.
And I'm sorry again. For this conversation.
no subject
But that's Nate's problem. ]
i think the only thing i need right now is time.
[ And a really good disguise he can wear out of doors. ]
but i'll let you know. thanks.
no subject
In respect of it there's no answer for now. ]