[She could not be sharper with a rapier in her hand. Clive peers at her through the dark, the dim streetlight bleeding through the windows highlighting the side of her face.]
Because... it confuses me. You hold and caress me, but do not want me in your bed. You enjoy my affections, I think, and yet do not want to be with me.
[She shakes her head.]
I ask what you want, and you don't have an answer.
Then tell me what you want. Do you want to sleep with me? Not tonight? Not ever? And if so, that's fine. I don't want... confusion over where the line is to damage my friendship with you, Clive.
[He gives her so little to go off. Jill moves towards him, trying to reach for his hand once more.]
[She takes a breath, studying the face of the man she loves. She doesn't want him to feel so frustrated, but any sort of meaningful conversation seems to end up here.]
Our expectations, perhaps. We live separate lives in the same house.
We both sleep with others and remain separate, don't we?
[She can't look at him when she says that, and so she looks towards the curtained window.]
I'm sorry that I made you feel as if your company meant less to me. I fear I no longer know how to express my feelings for you without the help of my body. [It's easier, now. Easier than writing a letter and sitting there trying to choose each word carefully.] I don't know how I managed all those years not constantly reaching for your hand or finding a way into your arms.
[He's never pressed anyone else he's sleeping with into an alcove with his body, put a finger to his lips, and barely hidden a smile as her governess walked right by them. He's never held their hands in secret, or thought about them with a rushing heartbeat, or talked offhandedly mentioned having babies with.
It is, he wants to insist, different.
Instead, he just shakes his head.]
I know. I know. But I don't want it to be like it was before we parted ways. I don't want to sleep with you just to assure you I still care, I don't want to feel useless to you if my mind is elsewhere...
[He doesn’t want to argue that he was useless, still is useless. He just quietly pulls his hand from hers so he can wrap his arms around her, sighing.]
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[She sits up. It's difficult to fit her ass on the sliver of couch left to her.]
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Are we capable of doing this without hurting ourselves?
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Tell me what you want.
[It wasn't just Ifrit's desire fanning the flames that night. She knows it.]
If this is that terrible for us, tell me now, and I'll never ask to share your bed again.
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I don't think that's fair.
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Just... tell me, Clive. Tell me what you want. It doesn't have to be difficult.
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Why do you withdraw from me the moment I have any reluctance to bed you? Are my concerns really so frustrating to you?
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[She shakes her head.]
I ask what you want, and you don't have an answer.
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[Just when she thinks there's a glimmer of hope for them, they get like this.]
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He gets up, pulling his hand from hers. He feels embarrassed. Ashamed. A little angry.]
I want my company to be worth something to you even when I’m not bedding you.
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Your company means the world to me. It's why I agreed to our living arrangement, Clive. To have you near.
[To try to salvage their friendship at the very least.]
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Then why threaten to never ask again, just for asking a question?
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[They can play pretend all he likes. She just would like to know the rules of the game.]
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[He gives her so little to go off. Jill moves towards him, trying to reach for his hand once more.]
But you have to tell me.
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I want you. I do. But where do we draw the line?
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[She takes a breath, studying the face of the man she loves. She doesn't want him to feel so frustrated, but any sort of meaningful conversation seems to end up here.]
Our expectations, perhaps. We live separate lives in the same house.
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And if neither of us believe we can be together, then why do we think we can be separate while still sleeping together?
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[She can't look at him when she says that, and so she looks towards the curtained window.]
I'm sorry that I made you feel as if your company meant less to me. I fear I no longer know how to express my feelings for you without the help of my body. [It's easier, now. Easier than writing a letter and sitting there trying to choose each word carefully.] I don't know how I managed all those years not constantly reaching for your hand or finding a way into your arms.
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It is, he wants to insist, different.
Instead, he just shakes his head.]
I know. I know. But I don't want it to be like it was before we parted ways. I don't want to sleep with you just to assure you I still care, I don't want to feel useless to you if my mind is elsewhere...
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[Nothing seems right. All of it is difficult. Everything leads to hurt. She steps closer, head bowing and her forehead pressing into his shoulder.
Quietly, she has to point out,]
You were never useless to me. I never needed you to be useful at all.
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[She smiles sadly into his shoulder as she returns the embrace.]
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He just mutters:]
I know you do. I appreciate your kindness.
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I should let you get to sleep. I don't know what I was thinking tonight. Forgive me.
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