"You realized that was the right thing to do, for people that wasn't you. Ain't that how it is?"
He won't try to tell her she's a better person than she thinks she is. She's probably bad, if she's here. She's done a lot, a lot of bad things. But he doesn't care for the framing of that statement.
She shakes her head again, firmer. Her voice comes a little quieter:
"It was just a Hail Mary, Arthur. I knew I only had a couple hours left to live. If I wasn't already completely fucked, I probably wouldn't have done it."
But she's not so sure of that, either. It's difficult to say what she would have thought or done if things were different. It's impossible to comb out whether it was for Ellie or the world at all, or just for her own conscience.
Honestly, he doesn't care, and he shrugs when she says that. "Doesn't matter. Even if you hadn't done it, it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I like you, and I think you got what it takes."
“Well, it does matter, and you don’t really know me enough to like me,” she shoots back, and she knows she’s full of shit because she liked him plenty too off just one afternoon of drinking and palling around.
She stands up, just to pace, wounded leg or not. The adrenaline pounding through her has to go somewhere, one way or another.
“What’s the goal, anyway? Not shoot people? How does that make anything right?”
"I only survived there because I did what I did," she retorts. Did what she still does, technically. She sighs hard, trying to stay calm. "I don't get to go back and be some kid's hero. I have no idea where Joel took the kid we were smuggling. I can't exactly catch up and help get her to the Fireflies."
"Sort of," she says. The older ones, anyway. "It was a long fucking day, Arthur. I did a drop, and some assholes jumped me ––" she gestures at her cheek "–– so I went off and dealt with the guy who sent them after me. He'd fucked me over on a deal, alright? Sold my guns to the fucking Fireflies, so I had to take another job for them for an even bigger return. My partner and I had to smuggle this kid out of Boston, but it got bad really fast. We found out she was important. She has the cure to infection."
"You been here a while, though. Gettin' in fights?"
He makes very, very sure not to sound judgmental here. He knows he's got a way of doing that, but look at him- is he the kind of guy to judge someone for fighting?
Tess sighs, and she stops pacing, shifting her weight to one leg. Wouldn't be the first time someone's called her on it, certainly won't be the last.
"Okay, fine, yes," she says. "When I showed up here, bleeding out, another asshole took the opportunity to mug me, so I tracked him down this week. I dealt with it."
Tess can't talk. She's looted plenty of bodies. She might've put the person out of their misery first, though, especially if they were an infection risk.
“Okay, I’ll let you know if that’s ever on the table.”
Killing anyone doesn’t make much sense to her if everyone comes back, anyway, but she doesn’t say that. She mulls it over a minute, though, and then asks:
He most certainly isn’t. Tess isn’t exactly thrilled about custodial, either, but she can’t imagine being useful anywhere else, and she does consider where it might give her access.
“Not that this will be a revelation, but I haven’t worked for anyone but myself and mine for a long, long time,” she says. “But I’ll try it.”
"Look, it's more about not bein' idle. I ain't gonna bring up the devil,
but boredom fucks with you. I'd like to see you every day to see how you're
holdin' up, but I won't hound you."
Fortunately for him, their cabins are close enough that he can
surreptitiously check on her every now and then.
She grimaces; boredom will fuck with her, and she knows exactly how crazy she drives people during dry spells for business. She’s never slowed down in her life, and if she wasn’t popped full of gunshot on arrival, she’s sure she would have gotten up to a whole lot worse.
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He won't try to tell her she's a better person than she thinks she is. She's probably bad, if she's here. She's done a lot, a lot of bad things. But he doesn't care for the framing of that statement.
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"It was just a Hail Mary, Arthur. I knew I only had a couple hours left to live. If I wasn't already completely fucked, I probably wouldn't have done it."
But she's not so sure of that, either. It's difficult to say what she would have thought or done if things were different. It's impossible to comb out whether it was for Ellie or the world at all, or just for her own conscience.
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She stands up, just to pace, wounded leg or not. The adrenaline pounding through her has to go somewhere, one way or another.
“What’s the goal, anyway? Not shoot people? How does that make anything right?”
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"Way I understand it, the goal isn't always the same. You gotta go back to your world, you have to be able to survive there."
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"Doing what you did there?"
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He makes very, very sure not to sound judgmental here. He knows he's got a way of doing that, but look at him- is he the kind of guy to judge someone for fighting?
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"Okay, fine, yes," she says. "When I showed up here, bleeding out, another asshole took the opportunity to mug me, so I tracked him down this week. I dealt with it."
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"What asshole was this?"
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"I said I dealt with it, didn't I?"
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“Okay, I’ll let you know if that’s ever on the table.”
Killing anyone doesn’t make much sense to her if everyone comes back, anyway, but she doesn’t say that. She mulls it over a minute, though, and then asks:
“You going to be checking on me every day?”
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He shrugs. "You ain't got a job yet. I was hoping I could talk you into joining me for custodial every other day, but I'm not your daddy."
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“Not that this will be a revelation, but I haven’t worked for anyone but myself and mine for a long, long time,” she says. “But I’ll try it.”
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"Look, it's more about not bein' idle. I ain't gonna bring up the devil, but boredom fucks with you. I'd like to see you every day to see how you're holdin' up, but I won't hound you."
Fortunately for him, their cabins are close enough that he can surreptitiously check on her every now and then.
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But he means well. She can’t deny that.
“Alright, I’ll meet you for drinks or something.”
Win-win, she figures.
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"You drive a hard bargain," he says, finally daring to give her a little grin. "Sure. I can do that."
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“Good. I’m fun to drink with.”
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"I got that about you."
He gets up, and then seriously holds his hand out to her. "Here's to the future, huh?"
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“Here’s to the future,” she repeats. Surprising that there is one at all. “Good luck.”