He realized why she hadn't run from yet, why she hadn't backed away in cautious fear. She still clung to the hope she could build him as a good person.
"Never in love before you," he said shortly. Did he love anyone else, at all? Now that he could recognize the emotion he supposed he did love Cold Shadow, his brothers. He was devoted to Jack, and he loved his family. Or, at least, as much as he was capable of.
And what was Mary scared of? That he would kill her too? The thought made his heart recoil and turn black. A state of being he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with. "Don't kid yourself," he growled in response to the hope in her voice.
Mary sighed and faltered in her step a moment. She was hardly the paradigm of morals and pacifism, but still, twenty seven people. It chilled her just a little. Of course, she still loved him, because she was positive that he was a good man, underneath it all. Perhaps he wasn't kind, or compassionate, or empathetic, but he was good.
She wasn't concerned about him killing anyone else, let him at it if he wanted. That wasn't what she was worried about. "Was it hard for you, to hate these people enough to kill them?"
He stopped in his furied walk and sighed, eyes slipping closed. "Mary," he said, with a note of regret. "I didn't even hate some of them."
In some cases it had been his life or theirs, in some he had killed them for someone else, protecting them or for favor. He had killed one man for attempting to cheat him, to set an example should anyone else try. Very few had he hated so deeply to actually plan to take their lives.
Mary clenched her fists and studied him a moment. Yes, the idea that he'd killed was kind of worrying but perhaps not so much as the idea he could hate deep enough to premeditate. She was honestly a little confused. She didn't know if it was worse that he should hate, or treat it so casually that he didn't need hate to kill.
"Vince, I'm not one to judge." But she was, wasn't she? With the stupid list and wondering if maybe he wasn't the good person she'd believed he was.
No. He was. She knew it. If he was evil, he would've killed her the second she walked onto his property, the second she back-talked him. He was just not used to loving. "Honestly, the list scares me. Because it outnumbers the amount of people you love enough to tolerate living with you." Namely, her.
She wasn't one to second guess things. He said he loved her, she took it as fact. The idea of him cheating on her was laughable, and she didn't love him less for the list. But she knew what felt like to be outnumbered in a fight, and this felt like that.
"One to twenty-seven," he stated the obvious. Unfavorable odds.
He didn't want to say what he needed to say, but he stepped toward her anyway, grabbing her chin, but lightly, as if she were porcelain. "I can't hide what I am," he said. "I won't pretend to be good enough for you, and I have come.... I want what's best for you. And if you would feel better leaving, you should."
She nodded slowly, but almost rolled her eyes when he told her she should leave. And the ginger way he was touching her, did he think she was scared he was going to hurt her? "You're right. I'm way too good for you." She touched his cheek, still smooth and unbandaged. It was easier to handle this being able to look into his face and catch the tenderness there that was only ever for her. How could he think he was a bad man? Did he hear himself speak?
"You're very luck, bub." She winked though, Mary didn't actually think she was too good for him. Nor the other way around really. She figured they were a pretty good match.
Mary smiled at him. He was almost cute, in his dark, twisted way. She put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it tenderly, and then shoved him roughly. "I never did tell you about the Day of the Dead, did I? You should have seen all the guys I danced with. I had a blast. I was almost glad you weren't there. You would've been such a downer."
It was maybe a little mean. But Mary wanted to prove to him and maybe to herself a little, that they didn't have to worry about him turning homicidal on her.
He stared at her baffled, hardly registering what she'd said.
After a moment, he smirked. "Nice try, but knowing you danced with other men doesn't turn me homicidal toward you. And you'll have to try a little harder than insulting my dancing skills."
Mary grinned. He wanted to make it a challenge, fine.
"One of them was a really good kisser." She might pay for it. She was expecting to get smacked, or yelled at, but she also trusted he'd stop himself before going to far and that he needed to see that. She did too, but she wouldn't admit it to herself.
He blinked, and then his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his entire visage darkening.
"Come again?" he asked slowly. He didn't feel enraged, yet, because he still thought she might be kidding just to get a rise out of him. But the image of Mary kissing someone else was not a happy one.
Last Edit: Nov 3, 2008 1:37:15 GMT -5 by Miss Jack
"What? Didn't hear me?" She shrugged, "I maybe had one too many glasses of punch and it just kind of happened." Mary sounded a little wistful, like she really was sorry. "Don't worry, we didn't get too far before your little note interrupted us." Like they would've gotten farther had it not.
She felt a tickle of nerves at the expression on his face, but she was committed to this experiment. She would carry through.
Maybe she didn't kiss anyone. But it sounded like probably she did. He forced himself to relax his tensed frame. "Next time I won't bother," he muttered irritably.
Oh, Ra. It didn't just anger him, it hurt a little too, and that was simply unacceptable. He crossed his arms, still waiting on the desire to even cause her the remotest amount of pain...
He wanted to kill him, whoever he was, but not her. Not yet.
Last Edit: Nov 3, 2008 1:51:17 GMT -5 by Miss Jack
"Would you mind? It kind of scared him off, and the way he was kissing me was just....well...anyways."
The whole cheating on him thing didn't seem to be working. It probably didn't help that she hadn't actually done it. By now they were back within the parts of the main tent that had fabric for walls. It almost hurt her to do it, but she knew how much the place meant to him. So she took out a dagger and slashed it down the wall to her left.
He blanched as she dragged a blade through the fabric of the wall on her side. In an instant he was right against her, her wrist clutched in his hand. He shook with fury. "Keep it up," he hissed.
Even in the angered disbelief that she would go so far to hurt him just to prove a point, he knew he wouldn't, and it almost relieved him to know. He loved this place. But even the Cirque de Louis was not Mary.