[Aside from their brief moment of talking over each other, Jay is quiet. He doesn’t interrupt Ai’s torrent of words as they spill out of her one after another after another after another, her tone and fervor at odds with the lighthearted mannerisms he has observed from her up until now. She’s vehement. She’s angry, although not necessarily with him. Even so, like always, he has to hold back the irrational instinct to flinch and push against the urge to put space between them.
Instead, he settles into a practiced stillness while he listens to what Ai has to say. He doesn’t look away from the bitterness that bubbles out of her, although he doesn’t entirely understand it. It is only after she is completely finished that he speaks up again.]
It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if the world worked that way.
[But it doesn’t.
Jay doesn’t say it. But the implication hangs heavy and leaden in the air. Because that’s just reality. Adults don’t look after children they aren't related to, especially when their own lives are in danger. They aren't going to put themselves in danger, let alone sacrifice themselves for someone they've just met.
This is just how people are.]
[If Ai listens, she’ll hear the tell-tale sound of his bells chiming and his clothes rustling. If she looks up, she will see Jay has abandoned the task at hand to take a seat on his footstool at her level. His chin rests carefully between his palms, which he keeps balanced over his knees by his elbows in a neatly compact position. He isn’t looking at her, though; instead he watches down the narrow space between the counter and the island, as if he’s keeping watch for any busybodies who might come to bother them.]
I don’t think anyone could blame you for hating it. Our circumstances are distressing. I think the only person who is genuinely enjoying themselves is probably whoever is responsible for all of this.
[Jay’s tone isn’t particularly warm, or comforting. And although he uses the word “distressed,” there is nothing to indicate that he is personally upset by what has happened.]
no subject
Instead, he settles into a practiced stillness while he listens to what Ai has to say. He doesn’t look away from the bitterness that bubbles out of her, although he doesn’t entirely understand it. It is only after she is completely finished that he speaks up again.]
It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if the world worked that way.
[But it doesn’t.
Jay doesn’t say it. But the implication hangs heavy and leaden in the air. Because that’s just reality. Adults don’t look after children they aren't related to, especially when their own lives are in danger. They aren't going to put themselves in danger, let alone sacrifice themselves for someone they've just met.
This is just how people are.]
[If Ai listens, she’ll hear the tell-tale sound of his bells chiming and his clothes rustling. If she looks up, she will see Jay has abandoned the task at hand to take a seat on his footstool at her level. His chin rests carefully between his palms, which he keeps balanced over his knees by his elbows in a neatly compact position. He isn’t looking at her, though; instead he watches down the narrow space between the counter and the island, as if he’s keeping watch for any busybodies who might come to bother them.]
I don’t think anyone could blame you for hating it. Our circumstances are distressing. I think the only person who is genuinely enjoying themselves is probably whoever is responsible for all of this.
[Jay’s tone isn’t particularly warm, or comforting. And although he uses the word “distressed,” there is nothing to indicate that he is personally upset by what has happened.]