Hargomme and Eve get sweaty

<Out of Character> This story was an e-mail exchange between Karen Alfrey – Eve’s player – and Russ – Hargomme’s player. Karen Klutzke added comments on occasion, as GM. 95% of what is here is straight out of the original messages, but some of it had to be cleaned up for perspective and such. In fact, there’s probably some that I missed… </Out of Character>

The morning of the third day "parked" in the Gorgon, Hargomme approaches Eve after breakfast. "So, interested in some more exercises like yesterday? I thought it would probably be a good idea to get a better understanding of how this works - and maybe even how to defend ourselves, if needed.

Eve regards him with a guarded expression, giving no immediate response.

"Maybe you'd like to try things from the attacking end?" he smiles slightly, a faint glimmer of humor and good-natured challenge in his eyes.

That gets her attention: one corner of her mouth twists upward. "Think you can handle it?" she retorts.

For all that she's teasing, it's also a serious question, revealing genuine reticence.

With a completely serious look, he responds with a, "Yes," then shrugs, "and I need to learn how to, even if I can't. I've been thinking about this, a little. I'm trying to treat it as one would a practice duel. I suppose our weapons are our minds instead of steel, but the idea is the same. I need to understand the weapon I am wielding, and I need to know how to avoid my opponent's attacks. Right now, I don't feel like I can defend myself.

"I don't deal well with not being able to defend myself, Eve."

Eve gives him a wry smile of total understanding. He senses a little of her reluctance slipping away.

"If Brand gets one of us alone, and grabs us by the neck, looking into our eyes, we might even survive the initial assault, even for the moment we would need to draw our weapon - or," with a hint of humor, "in your case, grab him by the throat and squeeze."

Eve's eyes glint with amusement. Oh, she would. She so would.

He leans in close, brings up his hand, and tightens it into a fist. With true anger - almost to the point of worrying her - he gutturally whispers, "I want my moment against him, Eve."

And now Eve's amusement is replaced by... what? Agreement? Warning? It's difficult to tell, but there's definitely a reaction of some kind.

Hargomme looks down, shaking his head as though clearing something from his thoughts. When he next looks up, he looks tired, as though he has just exerted himself in some way.

Leaning back again, he continues with, "You are the only person here that I'd trust to help me, and I think that it will help you learn the same skills.

"What do you say? Do you think you can try this and not kill me in the process?" he smiles jovially.

"I'll see what I can do," she replies, smiling; but it's obvious her attitude isn't nearly as blithe as her words.

She gestures toward her quarters with a quick jerk of her head and then sets off in that direction, obviously expecting Hargomme to follow. She doesn't offer him her arm.

Her body language as they walk is especially prickly, even to the point of occasionally fingering the hilt of her knife. Hargomme may notice that this is most likely to happen when one of Gerard's crew happens to glance their way.

Hargomme follows and immediately catches up, falling in step beside her. His gaze is straight ahead and his face has a look of concern and thought.

When she's fairly sure they're out of immediate earshot of anyone else, Eve says quietly, "So, I joked yesterday about needing a safe word, but... I think today we really do. I mean.... I don't know what I'm doing here, and I couldn't feel enough of what you did yesterday to be sure I can replicate it. And even if I can.... Well, let's face it, my usual m.o. is more 'subtle intimidation' than 'good cop', y'know?"

Hargomme nods, a slight smile briefly visible within the look of slight confusion.

She pauses and casts a sidelong glance at Hargomme. "So... you say 'please' and I'm outta there. Okay? Or pick some other word, if you'd rather."

"That is... Probably a good idea. Do you have a thing that you consider to be... Peaceful? Something you like?"

Eve can't help but smirk at that improbable combination.

"A favorite pet, maybe? It should something that would never come up during our... conversation, and everything I'm thinking of could come up. It should also be something that won't upset you, I suppose," he smiles a little, just enough to give her the impression that he fully understands the seriousness of the situation. "I'd hate for you to accidentally push when I'm begging for mercy."

Eve blinks as she focuses on that mental image, then turns rather more of her attention than necessary to digging something out of her pocket; she drops her head and lets her hair fall into her face, obscuring her expression from Hargomme's view for a moment.

When she straightens again, she's got the key to her quarters clutched in her hand and her usual casually neutral smirk firmly back in place.

"Donner," she says as they reach her room. "He's one of Flora's dogs, but I don't hold that against him."

"Donner it is, then," he nods.

She unlocks the door and holds it open for him, gesturing for him to enter.

"Not that I'm especially worried you'd accidentally piss me off to the point that I'd hurt you," she adds, and her expression grows more serious. "I think I've got more control than that. Plus" -- and now the smirk is back again, but in a friendly, conspiratorial way -- "you're not stupid."

It's not clear whether she means that as the reason he wouldn't accidentally piss her off, or the reason she won't hurt him.

With no visible emotions on his face, he says, "I suppose we'll find out," as he walks past her into the room.

Eve follows him in. He hears the door shut behind her, followed by the soft click of the lock.

He stops half way to the bed and stops for a moment, glancing about as though debating something, then steps to the bed, turns, and sits on the edge, his hands supporting him at his sides. "Now, the question is what you're actually going to do. Have you ever interrogated someone before? I mean, without the use of... Tools," he smiles wryly.

"Yeah, I've been... thinking about that," Eve replies. She's still standing by the door, her hands folded tightly across her midsection. "At school, the girls in my dorm -- uh, the big house where we all live -- sometimes, if one of them has a secret or something, I can figure out what it is just by staring at her and reading her body language as she gets more and more uncomfortable. It's... really easy."

She fidgets a little, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "That's not quite the same thing as interrogation, but I might be able to apply the same principles. It's different from your approach; but then, I don't think I could ever be quite as... gentle and polite... as you -- unless maybe I'd smoked a little of that pipe beforehand." She smirks and looks down at her feet for a moment. "Not that I'm planning to, like, manhandle you, or anything, but... I dunno. I just suspect it'll be... different."

She looks up again, at Hargomme, and stops fidgeting. "When you start, what's your mind-set like? Do you come at it like you're facing an opponent in battle, or just like you're gonna have a plain ol' conversation 'til you find out what you need to know?"

Hargomme notices she hasn't moved any farther into the room.

"Eve," he smiles, meeting her eyes and softening a little, "Relax." Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he continues "I have the feeling that we've both been through far worse than this. I trust you. You are correct - it will be different, but you will be fine. We will be fine."

Eve stands up a little straighter, but it's more defiant than relaxed, as if she's proving to him she's not afraid.

"What's my mind-set like..." Shifting position, he brings his feet up under him, Indian-style (knowing Hargomme, he has some cheesy name for it, though), and rests his palms on his knees. "Hmm... Well, I know what you are referring to in your... Uh, durm?"

The corner of Eve's mouth twitches up into a smile. "Dorm. Dormitory." She unfolds her arms and leans against the door, casually.

Sitting up straight, he gestures to her chair and relaxes himself. "I've used that skill myself many times, in negotiations and other diplomatic affairs. It is... subtly different, but... Yes, I think that there may be a relationship."

Eve moves to the chair, but does not sit. Rather, she stands behind it and leans on its back with her elbows, relaxed but alert, as she listens to Hargomme's speculations.

"I've been thinking about how I got to this point, how I learned to do this. I vaguely remember just asking questions of a soldier, once, perceiving his lies, and finally just grasping him and telling him to stop lying." He lifts his hands, looking down at the palms, and then brings them together in his lap. His gaze stays down. "He did. It was... I suppose it was an extension of that perception: instead of just knowing if he was lying, I... I guess I forced him to stop." He looks up, no emotion on his face, as he continues. "I lost my temper, Eve. That's why I pushed. I couldn't wait for the information - lives were at stake, and he had what I needed."

Eve's eyes narrow and she nods slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on Hargomme. Her gaze is steady, almost surgically precise -- probably not unlike that stare she fixes on the girls in her dorm to make them crack.

"After that, well, it just made sense to me. Until Bliss, I always thought that it was just my verbal command and force of will making them cave, though.

"If you're asking what you need to do, my suggestion is to have a seat, take my hand," he holds out his right hand, "and ask me to tell you about the man who had my family killed, because I'm not likely to tell you about that," he smiles.

"Oh," Eve says, with an answering smile as coolly precise as her stare, "I think you already have."

She slides into the chair and takes his hand. Her touch is strong, supportive, but there is little comfort in it; Hargomme can feel the force of her personality, of her will, press toward him like cold steel. Only a slight quickening of her breath suggests she is anything other than in complete control.

"I don't know how you came to trust him," she continues, "or why he decided to kill you. But I think I know what you did, afterwards."

Her voice is smooth as honey, almost seductive, a tone that says: "Go ahead, you might as well tell me everything, because you know I'll just figure it out on my own if you don't."

Cool, emotionless, Eve looks deep into Hargomme's eyes, as if reading his very soul.

His eyes are a mirror of that nothingness - as though he's been turned off, emotionally shut down.

Or just practiced at hiding behind the nothingness.

"He hurt you," she says. "Badly. Not by what he did to you: by what he did to your family. But you got your revenge, didn't you? You took from him what he took from you, and more; and you can still feel the innocent blood on your hands."

Hargomme maintains his composure, his emotions in control and covered. With a slight tone of humor, he breathes, "Hmm..."

But there are some things that cannot be covered, and that sweat on his brow is one of them.

She cocks her head slightly, like a cat regarding a wriggly morsel she would prefer to toy with before devouring outright; and he can feel the pressure in his mind increase. "Yes?" she asks calmly. "Have I gotten that much, at least?"

Eve feels his hand in hers trembling ever so slightly, until he places his other hand over the two. The nothingness in his eyes breaks away to a brief moment of... Something different. She thinks fear, at first, but there was a look in it, a look of a restrained predator, a look that might scare someone who has not seen and experienced as much as Eve.

Still, very unsettling.

It is immediately replaced by a look of strength, of resistance, but she senses a weakness, a hole in his defenses to be exploited.

She makes note of that weakness, mentally presses toward it: not a killing strike, but a careful test of new and possibly shaky ground. Her eyes stay locked on Hargomme's, watching his reactions.

"Revenge... is the obvious end, Eve. Yes, I... I had my revenge, but... that's just a logical conclusion." He smiles for a moment, and she feels the resistance give just a little. "You don't need more than time... to come up with that... given what I've already told you. But you don't... The... Cave..."

Eve's eyes widen slightly in morbid fascination. "Yes?" she prompts, surprisingly gently, though her mind still presses slowly but steadily toward the weakness in his defense.

He stops suddenly, scrunching his eyes shut and cocking his head to the side, as she feels the crashing of a metaphysical wall in front of her slamming down and solidifying his defenses.

He feels Eve's fingers tense around his for an instant.

Quietly, forced through clenched teeth, he pushes out, "So..."

He shakes his head violently for a second, as though trying to throw a bee buzzing at his ear. He stops with his face down, towards his lap, and he mumbles, "This is..."

Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks back up at her again, those beautiful, blue eyes still a reflection of nothingness. Then a look of defiance plays across his face, mixed with humor - it appears that he is finding some form of entertainment in this.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Eve is still watching him, chewing the inside of her lower lip as she considers her next move. She doesn't look concerned, quite; but Hargomme senses a hesitancy in her that shifts quickly to resolve when she sees that look on his face.

His defenses hold, but not solidly. With a slight chuckle, he clearly says, "Interesting."

He gently squeezes your hand in his - a friendly squeeze, almost a caress.

"Isn't it, though?" Eve replies, too quickly, as if to cover a reaction of her own.

Eve suddenly senses a crack, a weak point in his defenses. It feels as though there is a path that has less resistance, as though there are things that hurt - things of emotion - that are exposed and raw.

She hesitates, second-guessing her choice, but only for an instant; in the end her resolve holds. She pushes a wayward strand of emotion into a dark corner of her mind... and smiles.

He wanted to spar, she'll give him a good fight.

Hargomme's eyes focus a little more intently, as though he is considering something, some interesting information, but it only lasts a moment.

Impulsively, as though she wants to act before she loses her nerve, she slides forward on the chair and takes Hargomme's chin in her free hand, just as he had with her in their previous encounter. Her fingers tremble slightly as they first make contact with his jaw; but as they close around his chin she seems to gain confidence, and her touch steadies into a gentle but firm grip, keeping his face turned toward her, his eyes locked with hers.

His head in her hand, he nods slightly, approvingly, a faint smile visible for a moment.

"Tell me, Hargomme," she says with quiet intensity. "You want to, I can feel it." And he can feel her, there in his mind, reaching for his vulnerabilities, prying at the cracks. "You want to let out the pain, and you know the secret is safe with me."

He can feel that she means it, too -- although he may suspect she'd've said it even if it weren't true.

Strangely, the feel of Eve's mind in his own is no longer that of cold crushing steel: it has grown softer, more subtle, more malleable, even as it works to push him toward the edge.

He blinks, and again, his teeth grinding in his mouth - Eve feels the vibrations through his jaw. "I do - you... You're right." She senses the pain in his mind, the emotion, and she senses that she is right. He does want to tell her. She knows it.

But not like this.

Eve presses her attack, but something in it makes Hargomme think she may be trying to cover up a vulnerability of her own.

The gap in his defenses widens for a moment, the pain opening within his mind, beginning to expose what lies beneath. He opens his mouth for a moment, closes it, and repeats this twice more. His face twists in her grasp, but does not move away - her grip is too strong for him to break, even if he wasn't concentrating on something else.

Eyes locked with hers, he gasps once, mumbling, "Days, Eve... You can't... imagine... the..."

"Tell me, Hargomme," she says again, her voice now a hoarse whisper. "Tell me about... the Cave...?"

Another blink. There's a brief flood of emotions, and then a sudden a flash of horror, utter and complete, but she's not sure of what. His thoughts suddenly shift, refocus, and solidify. The gap she was pushing at, driving wider, vanishes as his eyes open wide and he draws in a long, painful breath.

She senses that he realized he was exposed and how, and that he worked to hide and control his thoughts, focusing and concentrating. Quietly, kindly, and with gritted teeth, he mutters, "I may... I may want to... Eve. But do you really want... want to know? Do you understand... Really understand, what a man... can do to another?"

"I'm part of this stupid family, Hargomme," Eve replies, and Hargomme catches a quick flash of ironic humor in her otherwise impassive expression. "I think I kind of get it."

Another blink. Hargomme's hands squeeze Eve's, but she gets no sense of meaning from it this time - it's a just squeeze, maybe a reflex of some kind, but little else. She feels him trembling, both from his hands and from within.

Still framed at the chin by Eve's young hand, his face is now completely void of emotion. All of his thoughts and concentration appear to be internalized, and she finds no apparent weaknesses left to exploit.

Sensing this, she allows herself a brief, impressed smile. It isn't enough to make her give up though: with her eyes narrowed in intense concentration, sweat beginning to bead on her own brow, she keeps prodding, still giving him a good fight, though she finds nothing she can exploit.

She does, however, sense an urge to prod back at the onslaught of thought and will - literally an animal rage that is questing for release immediately at the fore of his defenses. It is being kept in check, but just barely.

This gives Eve pause; and for a moment, her focus shifts to feeling out the boundaries of that rage.

But either she thinks she's strong enough to handle it or -- perhaps more likely -- she thinks she can find a way to exploit the rage itself, somehow. A moment later, she's delivering a fresh attack. Her whole body tenses, her whole self absorbed in the effort, and her face inches closer and closer to Hargomme's.

His teeth are still clenched, and he is holding out against the onslaught, but it is taking a great deal of effort. She sees the sweat dripping into his eyes, but he does not seem to even notice the sensation. It seems to be taking everything he has to hold her off, to shut down his emotions and maintain a force of will enough to keep the young woman from pushing through.

Then, as though a sudden impulse took him, he stammers in a grating voice through clenched teeth, "D-don-ner."

Her response is immediate: The pressure is gone. Eve releases Hargomme's chin and, just as he had done to her, passes her hand slowly across his eyes, wiping some of the sweat from his brow in the process.

He falls slightly forward for a moment, his face falling into her hand, as though he had been pushing against a barrier that was no longer there. Because of this shift, her hand slides from his brow to the side of his head, just behind his ear.

He then slowly moves back, his eyes closed, and takes in a long breath, leaving her hand where it was, wet with sweat.

"You alright?" she asks. She blinks a couple of times to return her focus to the external, physical world -- and, seeing her surroundings, stands up so quickly that she nearly overturns her chair.

"Here, I'll--- Let me get you a towel," she says, awkwardly.

He uses his sleeve to dab at his eye, and smiles. "Thank you. Yes, I'm alright. Just... A little..." He looks up at her, again, "I was a little worried there, for a moment." He leans back on his elbows, his legs still crossing over each other, and cocks his head to the side, appraising Eve as she steps to the side of the room.

Eve replies with a quiet, noncommittal, "Mm." Her back is to Hargomme as she rummages for a moment in a drawer; and so sure is she of her surroundings that she barely even glances at him before sending a towel in a perfect arc back to where he sits.

Knowing her well enough, he catches it in the air and begins wiping his face with it, starting with his eyes.

She shuts the drawer with her hip and stands leaning against it, watching Hargomme out of the corner of her eye.

He glances down as she does this, but only for a moment.

"That was dangerous, Eve. What you did there at the end? I could sense it, the rage I've always tried to control, but I couldn't completely suppress it." He looks aside for a moment, a look of pain and disappointment in his face.

He feels Eve's eyes on him more fully when he looks away, but by the time he turns back she is staring down at her hands.

Turning his gaze to the chair before him, he continues quietly, "If you had pushed at that for much longer, I... I don't know if... I could have controlled it. I hate to think of what I would have done to you..."

"It's... look, it wasn't...." Eve regards her still-damp palm with a look of mild disgust. It doesn't seem to be directed at the bodily fluids, though, nor at Hargomme. Her tone grows scornful as she adds, "It wasn't as dangerous as ---"

But instead of finishing the thought, she scowls and wipes her palm against her trousers, rather more forcefully than necessary.

He throws the towel back to her with a, "Thanks."

She catches it, nods, and drops it into a different drawer than the one she retrieved it from.

Bringing his legs down so that he is sitting on the edge of the bed, he leans forward again and rests his elbows on his knees. "As dangerous as what, Eve?" The look in his eyes is one of consideration, not so much as though he is concerned about her, but more as though he is interested, appraising, and wants to hear her speak. As though he takes her seriously, and wants her to understand that.

Eve doesn't answer immediately. For a long moment she stands staring at the floor, fidgeting, looking as though she's having trouble finding the right words. Or maybe she knows exactly the right words but can't decide whether to say them.

Hargomme waits, patiently, watching her with that same look. No expectations, no apparent preconceptions, just interest.

She breaks the silence with a long string of muttered curses. Hargomme recognizes few of the words, but he has no trouble recognizing the confusion, the frustration, behind them. She runs her fingers roughly through her hair and looks up again, straight at Hargomme.

"Dammit, Hargomme," she says in an almost pleading tone. "I don't get it. I don't get why you trust me--- Hell, I don't even trust me that much. Normally, I would figure it must be because you're weak, or stupid. But you don't show any signs of being either -- not in the ways I would expect, I mean -- except for the trusting me. So obviously, I conclude, you must be up to something. Faking it, somehow." She pauses, looks away.

He smiles - not comically, but as though he understands, glancing away for a moment as he does so.

"So then... why do I trust you?" she asks, more to herself than to Hargomme.

And he continues to watch her and listen, allowing her the time to come to her conclusion.

She frowns and folds her arms tightly across her midsection. "And that's when I start to wonder if maybe I'm the weak, stupid one."

A slight scowl crosses Hargomme's face for a moment as he cocks his head to the right. But it is immediately replaced with a look of understanding and appreciation.

She blinks, and looks at Hargomme again. "Jeez, why am I telling you this?"

Leaning back onto his elbows again, Hargomme softly says, "You've already answered your question, Eve. You trust me. Trust isn't a rational thing - it's like belief, in that. You said earlier that you didn't know why I trusted Morakan. Neither do I. I think..." He glances away, looking toward the door of the room as though it were a door to another place, another time. "I think I knew that I shouldn't. He was cruel, sadistic." He turns back to Eve, his eyes softened by memory. "But he had never betrayed me... or anyone else, that I knew of. It turned out that... I just didn't know enough information."

Eve is still standing by the drawers with her arms folded in a defensive posture, but she's watching Hargomme closely, listening carefully.

"Eve," he begins, then pauses, looking back to the door again. His face takes on a very serious cast, and he then looks back to her.

"I don't betray. I'm not a nice person," he shakes his head, "that I'll readily admit. My actions speak volumes on this topic. But I've never betrayed - and I never will. When I take on a commitment, I follow it through. And if I'm opposed to someone... well, they'll know it long before it matters to them."

He looks at her appraisingly and pauses for a moment, then continues, "I know you are troubled, Eve, and you feel like you are some kind of... monster. I don't agree. You aren't weak, that's for certain. And you are far from stupid. The fact that you even came to that conclusion is proof enough for me. You are an incredibly talented and... well... powerful, young lady, beautiful... in your way."

Eve arches an eyebrow at that pronouncement, as if it amuses her at some level. Her expression has otherwise remained impassive.

Then he sneers a little as he sarcastically adds, "And Flora will just have to learn to deal with the fact that your way is not hers."

A brief snort of laughter breaks Eve's steely silence. "Yeah, like I care what she thinks," she says. She means it, too.

"Are you a bad person? Well, isn't everyone, by someone's standards? But have you ever betrayed? Will you betray again? That is really what it comes down to, Eve, for me. I feel that you will not betray me. I feel that you are someone I can trust to be there at my side if - and when - things go to hell. That you will do what is right, what needs to be done, in the end."

Eve's expression goes from impassive to thoughtful, her stance grows less defensive.

He leans forward again, and locks his eyes with hers, his elbows again on his knees, his fingers interlaced before him.

"Am I wrong?"

For an instant, Hargomme thinks he catches another glimpse of the regular teenage girl hiding behind the granite wall of Eve's defenses. But it's only a flicker.

Deep, bright blue, watching, no expectations, just interest. "No forcing you, Eve. I'm not going to make you answer, but I'd like to know - I need to know." He tilts his head to the right, continuing to watch her eyes, "Am I wrong?"

Eve stares back at him in silence, considering his question, for a long moment. Then, "Fine," she says, "as long as we're being all share-y and stuff.... I think you're about half-right."

She unfolds her arms and returns to the chair, pulling it a couple of inches farther away from the bed before slumping into it.

"First off," she says after a moment, "I think you overestimate the degree to which I give a shit -- about whether I'm a bad person, and especially about whether anybody else thinks so. I don't so much care about being 'good' as about being right."

Hargomme's face remains clear as he listens intently, but there is a moment there where he raises an eyebrow, smiling a little.

She fixes Hargomme with a steady gaze. "Yesterday, when you were... in my head... you said something about all the pain I have. But that's just it: I don't. Nobody can hurt me, Hargomme, not really, because I Just. Don't. Give. A. Shit." She punctuates each word with a thunk of her fist against her thigh. "And that's why---"

She stops abruptly and looks away, as if suddenly afraid of revealing too much.

Hargomme's head tilts a little following her motion.

But after a moment's pause, she sighs and adds, quietly, "That's why this is so dangerous. I mean, I want you to tell me about what happened with... with Morakan.... But I don't want you to want to tell me, you know?" She looks down at her hands, still balled into fists, and takes a deep breath. Her expression grows impassive again.

He nods, just slightly.

She looks up again and continues in a tone that wouldn't be out of place in an academic lecture: "Flora says that successful social interaction is all about understanding other people's wants and needs, strengths and weaknesses. And while I'm sure she has a different measure of 'success' than I do, she's not wrong." Eve meets Hargomme's gaze, and an exasperated frown creases her brow. "And here you are, Hargomme, dealing me a hand and then showing me exactly how to beat you. Have I ever betrayed anyone? No, but then again, how many chances do you get when you keep everyone at sword's length?" She shrugs, shakes her head. "Will I betray you? Probably not in the way that you mean. But where do you draw the lines between betrayal, manipulation, and 'successful social interaction'? Because, make no mistake, I know your strengths and weaknesses, and I know I'll use them. It's instinct, y'know?" She shrugs again, as if there's really not much more to say about that.

Hargomme smiles a little at this, as though some inner, tangential thought has brought him amusement.

"But that last thing you said...." Eve looks into Hargomme's eyes with a surprisingly intense gaze. "Yeah. Dead-on. In all this bad shit that's going down -- with Brand, with Thelbane, all of it -- we're on the same side, and I'm damn glad of that. And unless you do something profoundly stupid, like suddenly deciding to be Brand's new drinking-buddy or something, I intend to keep it that way."

The smile forms fully at this, and he chuckles a little.

Her lips suddenly curl into an amused smirk, and she adds, "And if you ever tell me I'm 'beautiful' again, I may be forced to throw you through a wall. Unless we're, like, making out or something, in which case I suppose it's okay." She seems to find this last bit particularly amusing.

Sitting up straight, laughing out loud, Hargomme holds his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "As you wish, mi'lady, as you wish!" he laughs. Leaning back onto his elbows, he stops laughing but the smile does not vanish. "So I suppose it is my turn, then. Hmm... Where to start. Uh... Well, will I tell you about Morakan? Honestly, I plan on letting you continue to try to get that from me. Maybe next time we can try it through trump?"

Eve's eyebrows arch with obvious interest. "Trump, that's... yeah, a really good idea," she says.

"As long as you don't know, Eve, it's something we can work with. There are many details about what I did, none of which I want to share with anyone - including you - and I'm not going to." The tone of his voice is not just one of challenge but more that he has made a statement of fact. "I don't consider this to be an exercise to allow you to get information. It is something I don't plan to share, or I wouldn't have suggested it. If I'm not motivated, what good is it to try?"

Eve smiles in agreement, as if she knows a thing or two about proper motivation.

"Now, I won't concern myself if you learn about it, though; you're probably the only person here that wouldn't judge me for it," he chuckles, but you sense an aspect of uncertainty in his voice.

He looks to the ceiling for a moment as though recalling something, then looks back to Eve. "As to my comment about your pain, my apologies." His eyes sparkle with humor as he concludes with a slight smile, "You're right - I misunderstood your... Mmm, don't give a shit attitude? I appreciate the clarification, though - thank you."

Eve smirks, nods.

"With regards to our current situation," the smile vanishes as his face becomes very serious, "I am glad to hear that I am right, and I will leave it at that.

"Uh... As to my 'strengths and weaknesses', I'm not going to say that you would be wrong in your assessments, but I do want you to know one thing, Eve. Yes, I trust you not to betray me, but I am - and have always been - paranoid. I am deceptive and I am... manipulative - most likely, just like you. If I say something, it doesn't make it fact, and if I show something, it doesn't make it reality. And that includes in here," as he taps his head, smiling wryly.

Eve's lips curl slowly into a smile, and her posture shifts noticeably: she is still on her guard, but some part of her seems to relax, as though she suddenly has one less thing to worry about. "Good," she says.

He maintains eye contact with her as he continues, "I've been paying close attention to this family, and learning from all of you. Just as you, I understand the game and how to play it. It's bigger than the game played back home, I'll readily admit, but at least here I feel like it's big enough - there, I was always in the center of it all, controlling, manipulating, moving pieces into - and out of - place, even knocking my own pieces out if - when - necessary."

Eve cocks her head to the side, regarding Hargomme with a look of sudden curiosity about his past and his former role.

He slowly shakes his head a little with a slight smile, indicating a friendly, non-verbal, "no", and says, "Not today..."

Eve responds with a brief nod of understanding.

"I expect you to manipulate me, Eve. And I will manipulate you. That is the way of things. Many of my comments today have been specifically to drive you to talk to me, to tell me things. Some have worked and some haven't. I don't consider that betrayal. But where do I draw the line?" He shrugs. "I have no idea. I don't expect that I should, and I don't expect that you should, but I'm going to continue doing what I've always done to ensure that it isn't an issue."

He pauses for a moment then, glancing down toward his knees as a serious look crosses his face, then shifts positions again, moving forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs. Looking at his left fist gripped within his right hand, he continues, "But yes, I suppose I have exposed more of myself to you in the past day than, well, than I have to anyone in... many years." Looking back up at her with his head cocked to the left and smiling just slightly "Probably not something to be thankful for, but there it is. Between this, the information about my, uh, deeanay? and everything else, you know more about me than anyone alive." In a jovial tone, he concludes with, "My apologies - I won't let that happen again."

Eve smirks, but it's a good-natured expression. "Naw, it's all right -- just don't go getting all sentimental about it, okay?"

"Sentimental?" He smiles a little at that. "No, that won't be a problem - that's a waste of time."

"Good," Eve says again, smiling, like she's glad they're on the same page about that....

Then he gets a bit of a puzzled look on his face, mixed with amusement and a little curiosity. "And finally... Alright, I think I might regret asking this, but... Just what is 'making out' anyway? If it would prevent me from going through a wall, I'd like to know what you're referring to, for future reference."

Now it's Eve's turn to laugh. It's a friendly laugh, but there is something uneasy in it, as if he had caught her slightly off-guard. "I should warn you," she says between chuckles, "that if you've already pissed me off, it won't save you. In fact, the last guy that tried it ended up with a bloody nose. No, make that the last two guys." She flashes a wicked grin, but can't quite sustain the bravado: she glances down at her hands as she continues, "It's... kissing."

Hargomme's eyes open a little wider, a slight look of surprise on his face - but the amusement and curiosity do not vanish, just... Change, a little.

"But," and she looks up again, as if she'd recovered her mental footing, "where I come from, it's usually used specifically to describe... er... adolescent sorts of encounters. Y'know? Which is why it would be funny if you...." She waves her hand vaguely to complete the thought, as if she believes her meaning is obvious, and then looks down again.

"Ah, uh..." Hargomme's eyes shift focus around the room for a moment, as he contemplates. "Hmm... Right. So if we're kissing, it's okay to say you're beautiful." Looking back to Eve, there is a kind spark in his eyes and his smile is as that of a friend trading secrets. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, jovially. The comment was definitely intended as a friendly comment, not quite a challenge, but definitely something he finds interesting.

Eve smirks, but she carefully avoids making eye contact with Hargomme.

"That's right, Mr. Old-Enough-To-Be...."

She trails off, thoughtful, like something has just occurred to her.

He smiles slyly and shakes his head, but immediately contradicts this with, "Yes, I could be your father - I have lived more than three decades. Keep in mind, though, Eve, that - in my home - you would..." He stops himself, holding up his hands for what he expects as an assault, continuing with "My apologies; could already be married. And most likely, it would be to someone my age. Quoalatrian women are often married after... Well, some as young as 14 years."

Eve blinks and frowns, but the assault doesn't materialize. She seems partially distracted by some tangential thought.

His face becomes more casual, relaxed, as he finishes with a challenging smile, "Not that I'm proposing or anything - just so you have the correct context."

Eve doesn't answer. She's staring off into space, deep in contemplation.

"Eve?" Hargomme tilts his head to follow her gaze. "What's wrong? What are you thinking, if you don't mind me asking?" He suddenly pulls his head back as though he'd realized something. "You aren't married, are you?"

"Wha--?" Eve blinks, parses what he just asked, and smirks. "Heh. Hell no. No, I was just thinking...."

She looks at Hargomme, and her face takes on a grave cast. "I... I have to ask you something, something really awful, but... I think it's important." She looks at him, into his eyes. "You said, when Morakan.... That they struck you first, with poison. That they thought you had died."

His face goes void, empty of emotion and thought.

She opens her mouth to continue, pauses, closes it again, as if she is trying to put the next part delicately but is having trouble figuring out how. Finally, she says, "When you woke up, did you actually see your... your wife and son? Or did you just find out they were dead from other people?"

He looks toward the door, pausing for a minute, as though considering his options. Rubbing his hands together, again, he looks at Eve. His eyes are emotionless, but there is a definite pain being hidden behind them.

"You... misunderstood what I said. Yes, they used poison on me. A powerful... paralytic agent. I... I was helpless, frozen... propped up against a tree, unable to move..."

As he is speaking, Eve sees something building within him. Eventually, she catches another glimpse of that rage buried deep within him, but this time it is true, it is visible, his eyes baring an animal that, should it break loose, would be a fearful thing to behold.

Not that Eve couldn't wrestle it to the ground and tear its head off; just that it would be bad.

Eve is tense, watchful, ready to act if she needs to; but otherwise she carefully holds her reactions in check.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes still locked with hers, the wrestling of emotions tearing through his visage. The crack of a knuckle breaks the silence, and he glances down at his hands, as though surprised by the sound. Looking back up, he appears to be fine, as though they are having a casual conversation about the weather; the rage is gone, and there is no trace of emotion other than simple, casual friendliness, but this slowly evolves to a look of slight exhaustion.

He opens his mouth to speak, stops himself, and then continues, "I watched, Eve - I had no choice. I saw it all." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "And I will not describe it today."

"No," Eve agrees quietly. "I won't ask you to."

He opens his eyes again and looks at her. "Revenge did not... set things right for me, Eve... nor did it help deal with the... pain of such things. Hell," as he looks to the door, "it's only made it worse."

From aside, you catch a brief glimpse of something - anger? - and then he is turning back to you, his eyes, deep and incredibly blue, burrowing into you, even though his tone is one of sadness and curiosity as he asks, "Why do you want to know? How could that be important?" His gaze suddenly lessens in intensity; he glances down at her lap for a moment as though to break the contact of their eyes. He immediately looks back to her face, though, his brow slightly furrowed as though his curiosity has slid into confusion.

"Because, Hargomme," she replies, gently but firmly, like a teacher leading a child through an important lesson, "your son Josh was... one of us. Do you see? If you survived, there was a chance he might've, too, unbeknownst to you."

A look passes over his face, as though this was something he had contemplated before. Contemplated and rejected. "He did not," he mumbles.

Eve leans forward, her elbows on her knees, hands clasped under her chin, and contemplates the space between them as if studying a map, or a chessboard. "And I don't know what Brand's game is, but I feel certain that if... if Josh were alive, if there were any chance of it... he'd find a way to use it against us. That we need to keep better tabs on the scions of the line than Brand does." She shrugs and rests her forehead against her fists with a sigh, like she's staving off a headache.

He nods his understanding, relaxing his pose and slouching a little in apparent weariness.

"I'm sorry, Hargomme," she adds softly, without looking up.

As though completely surprised by this statement, Hargomme sits up straight and looks directly at her, his hands draped in his lap. "Why?" he asks, appearing confused, again, with that curiosity mixed in. The tone of his voice is of concern more than anything, as though he is worried that there is something wrong with Eve.

"Dunno," she replies, and now there's a hint of amusement in her voice. She unclasps her hands, runs her fingers roughly through her hair, and sits up again so she can make eye contact with Hargomme. She looks tired, but she's smirking again.

When her eyes meet his, she sees that he is grinning. He definitely finds this situation comical in some aspect, as though his question was sarcastic or ironic - or both.

"See?" she says in mock exasperation, "I'm already going all mushy."

He chuckles, shaking his head. He then leans forward, again, placing his elbows on his knees for support.

Eve tilts her head, almost seeming to examine that statement as it hangs there in the air between them. Then, "No, that's not it," she concludes, sounding much more her steel-reinforced self.

She continues, "I think I'm concerned about... stirring up your anger, your bad memories, too much. Like, if I draw them too close to the surface...." She pauses, and her brow furrows. "It becomes one more thing your foes can use against you, y'know?"

He nods. "Many have tried, in the past. I... I suppose I'm a little used to it, to be honest. The emotions aren't a problem, really. I've learned to close them off, keep them out of mind. The situation at the coronation, with Flora trying to set me up with Reeka and Sakura...”

Eve gives a sympathetic teenage eye-roll at the memory of Flora's audacity.

“Well, I simply used it as an excuse to get out of the room," he smiles. "Not a big one for large social situations. With Eric's death, my discovery of Amber, and everything else going on, I just wanted some time to think, away from all the business of the court. Of course, I ran into Random, then the screams..." He shrugs.

"Here, with you, though..." He smiles, "I've been... a little less controlling, allowed you to get a look inside. Part of it was to see how you would respond, to see if you actually have emotions buried in there.”

Eve grins.

“And part of it was to show you that I do trust you, that I'm willing to share at this level that I wouldn't." He holds up his hand, "Not in a sentimental way, mind you," winks. "It's just about trust." The humor in his eyes is blatantly obvious.

It quickly vanishes, giving way to serious introspection. "The rage, though..." He looks down, his line of sight following a trail from Eve's eyes down to his hands, held loosely together in his lap. "For a long time, I thought they were one and the same, the rage and the emotions... as though it was created that day, when he killed them. But I know better; it's always been there. I can control it in most situations, but when I have to defend myself..." He stops for a moment, then looks back up at her, saying, "Sometimes, afterwards, I'm amazed at how vicious I can be. Amazed and scared. To be honest, it's usually been of benefit to me, allowed me to pull myself out of situations in which a lesser person would have succumbed to despair. With the exception of Morakan, it's never been something that I've considered a weakness, and I've never had someone try to exploit it."

Eve is listening with interest, her chin resting on her steepled fingertips, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Looking back to his hands, he finishes with, "But that doesn't mean that it won't happen - you're correct. I honestly don't know how one could, but I'm sure that, if anyone could, it would be someone involved with this family." A sardonic smile crosses his face as he glances back at Eve.

Eve smirks. "Already workin' on it," she says. "If I can figure out an offense before anyone else does, it'll give you time to work on a defense."

He sits up, then, and looks at her seriously. "Other than the obvious - Brand - who do we have as enemies? Or are you thinking in the longer term? I'm honestly not used to this idea of living forever. Never really expected to live as long as I have," he smiles.

"Everyone is a potential foe, of course," Eve replies, returning the smile, "but only a few are serious contenders, and fewer still are immediate threats. I was speaking generally, but...." Her lips compress into a thoughtful frown as she gives Hargomme's question serious consideration.

Watching her think, Hargomme's smile creeps away into a look of interest.

"Brand, yes, first and foremost, because he seems to be targeting us specifically. Well, Alyddia, specifically, but all of us by association. The bad part is, I get the feeling he wants us to acknowledge that he's got the upper hand, which makes him exactly the kind of foe that would indulge in that kind of... personally directed, manipulative attack. The tiny bright spot is that he wants us to acknowledge that he's got the upper hand. So he's gonna keep showing us his hand." Her eyes glint, almost as if she's looking forward to the challenge.

He grins for a moment in response, in a sarcastic "won't that be fun", kind of way.

"Next, Thelbane, or some subset thereof, which may or may not be so directly our problem. But I feel certain we'll keep being caught up in that conflict, at least at the fringes if not in the middle. In some ways they concern me even more than Brand because we know so little about them yet. But they seem more interested in us as a group than us as individuals, so we probably don't need to worry so much that they'll try to exploit our individual weaknesses."

Hargomme nods in agreement.

"Finally, anyone else you might happen to be related to." Eve flashes a smirk of friendly irony before continuing in a more serious tone, "Not that I think many of them are likely to be in the 'active enemies' column at any given moment, but..."

His eyes wander a bit for a moment, as though something has just occurred to him, something troubling, but his gaze quickly returns to meet her eyes.

"They're most likely to be formidable one-on-one, in a way that could target that kind of weakness, you know? Not many other beings could get at your psyche that way unless you've let yourself be vulnerable to it."

Nods, again.

She considers a moment more, then deadpans, "And always beware of marriageable young princesses bearing salads. No good can come of that."

He looks down at the floor and chuckles for a moment. "Yes, I'd agree. Or women running through a battle picking up large rocks to throw - must watch out for those." The smile on his face is clearly visible from the side, as he glances at her from beneath his fallen hair for a moment.

Eve sticks out her tongue in childish but entirely good-natured response.

His smile is short lived, though, and he looks back up with a very serious - almost pained - look on his face. "I just... I had a thought, one that I don't know..." He pauses, watching Eve for a moment with his head just slightly tilted, looking into her eyes. "So, we're going to live forever, right? Well," with a brief smirk, "at least until we end up holding a blade by the wrong end."

"That's the theory, anyway," Eve says, also smirking a little. "None of us have ever died of old age, that I know of." She tilts her head, watching him, wondering where he's going with this.

He shifts a little, pausing, as though thinking about how to say what he's thinking. "Eve, even in the short life of a mortal being, people change, things happen, events occur... In the next couple of..." He stops, and she can tell that he's having some problems wrapping his head around this concept. "Well, centuries," he shakes his head, "you and I. We could end up getting closer or farther apart, or even both, possibly to... extremes. Gosh forbid I should end up facing you on a battlefield," he says with a little sarcasm and even less of a smile, "but it is conceivable, isn't it, that you and I could end up enemies. We trust, for now, but..."

Eve gives a slight nod, herself very aware of the possibility. Of many of the possibilities.

He suddenly sits up a little straighter and waves his hand as though brushing the thought from existence. "Never mind! I suppose I could drive myself insane with all of the... Possibilities... With this immortality. I'll just concentrate on the here and now, and enjoy the times we spend... Getting closer." He smiles jovially.

With that, Hargomme starts to move. He puts his hands on his knees and looks toward the door. It's obvious that he's preparing to stand.

"Yeah," Eve says with a mischievous glint in her eye, "and if you're not careful, I'll end up taking you to the prom." She flashes a wickedly amused grin at that particular mental image, but makes no effort to explain what she's talking about.

Hargomme smiles, his eyes portraying both humor and an interest of some sort. He obviously has no idea what she's referring to - what a "prom" might be - but it appears that he understands enough to find it amusing in some fashion. Or maybe it's just the idea of Eve taking him somewhere that does it...

But after a moment she blinks in surprise, and her brow furrows, as if something that should've been obvious only now occurred to her.

"I wonder," she muses, "if Flora's gonna bother trying to make me go back. To school, I mean," she adds, realizing that her train of thought probably left Hargomme off a couple stops ago. "Seems kinda pointless, but.... Trust Flora to do pointless things for the sake of keeping up appearances, right?" She smirks and shakes her head.

He tilts his head as he stands, apparently a little confused but interested. "You are still attending a formal school? Is that normal in Am... Wait. You weren't in Amber - I forgot. What is the name of that place, again?"

"The place I lived is called Westchester," Eve says, "which is sort of like Amber in that it's full of wealth and deeply class-conscious, even if they all tell themselves they're above that sort of thing. Better technology, though, and far less of a chance of me getting married off at sixteen." Reflexively, she makes a sour face. "But, yeah, it's generally expected that you stay in school 'til you're at least seventeen or eighteen, and often several years more if you...." She pauses, trying to find a context that Hargomme will understand.

A look of awe crosses Hargomme's face as he shakes his head a little in amazement, his jaw slack.

"...If you want to work certain types of jobs that require a lot of knowledge and training and lore. So I had... have... at least another year-and-a-half to go. And after that I think Flora was really hoping I'd go to Princeton. Even if it is in New Jersey." She grins.

He chuckles slightly, still shaking his head. "Well, that's..." He stops, looking at her as though a little confused, "What could they..." Again, he stops, this time raising his hands as though he's changed his mind, trying to wipe away his previous words with a gesture. "Never mind. I will never understand all of the details of these places, and it is probably not necessary. My curiosity will have to wait - if we determine that we need to go there, you will have to tell me more about... Uh, West-hester?"

"Westchester," Eve replies. She's grinning, probably at the mental image of Hargomme in that milieu. After a moment she shakes it off.

"Well. Next time Trumps, then?" she asks. She stands herself, and stretches, ready to see Hargomme out if he's ready to go.

He watches her as she moves, attentive, but with no hint of emotion, saying "That should be... interesting." He turns toward the door as she finishes, as though avoiding something. "I'd also like to see if it's possible to force it when a person isn't willing to accept the contact, but we can look into that some other time."

Placing his left hand on the handle, he turns back to face her. "I think that learning to... fend off an attacker is more important right now. You?"

Eve rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Well, we might want to start the other way 'round -- not by forcing contact, but by trying to force it closed when someone else is holding it open. But aside from that, yeah, we should probably try the same sorts of things we've already been doing, to see how different it is when you're in direct mental contact like that. Sound good?"

"Wonderful idea - I had not thought of it from that view, but yes, I know that I do tend to accept the contacts without consideration."

He opens the door and pauses as though considering an option or two, then bows slightly towards her, maintaining eye contact and smiling the entire time. "Good day, mi'lady."

Eve doesn't quite roll her eyes at his formality, but she cocks her head and smirks. "Later, dude."