Malcolm nods seriously, like it’s an opinion on a scientific paper.
“He lied about it. He lied about everything right to my face and then suddenly everything made complete sense.” He looks at Neal. “He might have been lying to you, too, about all the things he was working through. He was working through this dumb personal code thing and calling it other things so you wouldn’t know.”
"Maybe," Neal says, hand still over Malcolm's, voice going softer. "Or the man he cares about, maybe even loves, just slid onto the side of the barge that has no guarantees but death if they disappear. The security he had around the idea of Arthur's safety is gone. Not only that, but Arthur's own feelings about the situation cannot possibly be positive. It might be too much to handle right now, trying to help other people through their problems and psychological hangups when he's being confronted with something that's so wrenching on so many fronts. Maybe he wasn't lying on purpose, maybe he was telling the story he was comfortable with people knowing."
“Maybe, but who could have guessed that? They were hiding their relationship. I can’t imagine feeling that much and even wanting to hide it, much less being able to.”
He talks about Will all the time. Saying his name - having the right to - when he’s not even there brings the same rush of warmth that his presence does. Who would just… not?
“We mended things last month. Me and Sheehan. Guess that’s over.”
Malcolm’s expression brightens; he doesn’t consider the nature of the distraction. “That’s a good family; I’m so happy for you. You should go see his new baby if you get a chance,” he enthuses.
"I did. ...I will? I do?" He shakes his head and waves off the temporal grammar. "But I didn't tell anyone about what we decided. Anyone, not right after we talked about it. Not for months. It wasn't because I didn't have feelings about it, it wasn't because it didn't mean anything to me. It meant... everything."
Neal finally picks up his tea, taking a sip and raising his eyebrows. "Do you see where I might be going with this?"
"Stop that. It was his version of normal, that doesn't mean there was nothing to read into or misinterpret. You came on strong. You came across as a jerk, maybe, at the time, in the moment, but that's an issue of approach, not an issue of intent."
“Shaw says my intentions don’t matter if I do harm in spite of them, in which case I basically deserve the figurative spankings that I get,” Malcolm says, tilting his head slightly. “So that actually clears everything up.”
"I say again, Shaw is welcome to her opinion, but I don't necessarily agree with it. I think she gets to decide if intent, when explained, makes up for part of the unintentional harm done or not. For her, maybe it doesn't matter what intent is if the way it's expressed does harm. That's her choice, and for her own wellbeing she gets to make it. But that doesn't make it the standardized barometer for every interaction with every person, and it doesn't mean she's right that your intentions didn't matter."
He gestures to Malcolm's communicator. "I think you feel raw enough about the way people treated you over your relationship with Will that it makes perfect sense that you didn't approach that with the gentleness you might have if you'd taken some time to consider it or talk to someone else about it first. He hurt you, his opinions impacted others' actions toward you, and from where you were standing, he was sitting pretty on a high horse that just got its knees broken. That feels good when it happens to someone who treats you badly. Even if it might not, given a little time and consideration."
“It… didn’t feel good like that. I just thought he must be able to understand where I was coming from now, but he was fighting it even inside himself, and if he could accept that we’re actually the same, I could help him. …That felt good. That I have the tools to help him with a struggle I’ve already been through.”
He presses his lips together and gestures towards the phone.
Malcolm gives him a grateful, if shaky smile, but only realizes as cup clatters against saucer that his hand is shaking. He clenches it into a fist in his lap and with an apologetic look, takes the tea with his left hand and takes a sip.
“Oh, that’s new,” he notes. “I like it. Is that… ginger? Annnnd…” he takes another sip trying to place the other flavours.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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“He lied about it. He lied about everything right to my face and then suddenly everything made complete sense.” He looks at Neal. “He might have been lying to you, too, about all the things he was working through. He was working through this dumb personal code thing and calling it other things so you wouldn’t know.”
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He talks about Will all the time. Saying his name - having the right to - when he’s not even there brings the same rush of warmth that his presence does. Who would just… not?
“We mended things last month. Me and Sheehan. Guess that’s over.”
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"Kiryu adopted me after the carnival breach."
It ties in, he promises.
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Neal finally picks up his tea, taking a sip and raising his eyebrows. "Do you see where I might be going with this?"
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"Stop that. It was his version of normal, that doesn't mean there was nothing to read into or misinterpret. You came on strong. You came across as a jerk, maybe, at the time, in the moment, but that's an issue of approach, not an issue of intent."
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“It was in mediation,” he clarifies.
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He gestures to Malcolm's communicator. "I think you feel raw enough about the way people treated you over your relationship with Will that it makes perfect sense that you didn't approach that with the gentleness you might have if you'd taken some time to consider it or talk to someone else about it first. He hurt you, his opinions impacted others' actions toward you, and from where you were standing, he was sitting pretty on a high horse that just got its knees broken. That feels good when it happens to someone who treats you badly. Even if it might not, given a little time and consideration."
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He presses his lips together and gestures towards the phone.
“Listen to the rest.”
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He nudges Malcolm's tea toward him. "I'll listen, but drink first."
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“Oh, that’s new,” he notes. “I like it. Is that… ginger? Annnnd…” he takes another sip trying to place the other flavours.