Amanda, Charlie - last Saturday afternoon
Jul. 9th, 2005 12:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsThe fine art of apologising - Amanda gets creative in order to smooth things over after this argument.
The art to the apology was in the timing.
Patience had never been a strong suit for Amanda, but she made herself wait, a small collection of cigarette butts by her feet indicating her nervousness. The last thing she wanted to do was barge back in feet-first and make things worse. So she watched through the window of the bookshop as Charlie wandered from shelf to shelf, looking through the sparse pickings - it wasn't one of the good places, but the owner didn't hassle you - before making her move. She'd practiced this spell all yesterday, using newspaper-wrapped bricks, until she got it working eight times out of ten.
It wouldn't do to lose a valuable book on a gesture, after all. Charlie worked his way along the shelf, sighing a little to himself. Crap, crap, total crap, oh God not another work expounding on the magic of the Harry Potter universe... Then there was the briefest flash of green light and a familiar-looking heavy volume appeared practically under his hand. Ignatious. Realms of Maelstrom. There was a post-it note stuck to the front cover, with a familiar scrawl: Sorry - A. PS: It's a short range spell if you want to talk.
Well, let it not be said that she wasn't creative. Charlie sighed, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and slid the book into his bag. He gave the clerk a short wave as he left, and just as anticipated, found Amanda waiting nervously in front of the shop. His eyes flickered briefly to the pile of cigarette butts, and he suppressed a smile. Obviously she'd been there a while.
"So, you've been following me for how long today to make this little gesture?"
"Well, not followin' you 'round so much as figurin' where you'd be..." Amanda stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her jeans to stop herself from biting her nails or twisting her t-shirt or any more of her nervous mannerisms and gave him a small, fleeting smile. "An' what's the point of havin' magic if you can't use it sometimes t' make the odd dramatic gesture, eh?"
"While I'm sure that comment would give Strange a stroke, I get your meaning." Charlie rubbed the tip of his nose absently. "You rehearsed what you're going to say yet, or are we just going to wing it?"
"Well, I had this big long speech an' all, but really what it comes down to is I'm a pushy, insensitive bitch an' I had no call hasslin' you like that," Amanda said with a slight shrug. "There was a bit 'bout not wantin' t' lose a mate 'cause of it, but I figured I'd wait an' see how you reacted t' the sorry part first."
"Sounds like a good start." Charlie sat down on the sidewalk bench in front of the store and dumped his knapsack at his feet. "And you're right. You are a pushy insensitive bitch, and worse, you've got yourself convinced that the way you think things should be is the only way."
"I didn't--"
"Amanda, this, uncharacteristically enough, is the part where I talk and you listen. So shut up and let me finish." Charlie said without heat, and Amanda flushed. One thing that she was learning was that Charlie, no matter what people might think, had a stubborn streak that doubled as a backbone. "I don't pretend to know or understand the things that you may have gone through. Nor do I do the same with Remy, and his hints make it sound pretty bad. Which is why when I see him looking completely isolated, I don't know what to say. When you get into your own moods about loss and friendship, I accept that I can't tell you what to do since I don't have either the information and experience to say anything. But, as boring as my life may be to yours, you only know a scrap of it. While I appreciate your offers to help, and even well meaning advice, you have to understand that you don't know enough to be able to make blanket statements and tell me what I should be doing."
Amanda nodded, not wanting to say anything until she was sure he was done. Taking a seat beside him - but not too close, since she didn't want to crowd him - she considered his words. "I hang on too tight t' people," she said at last. "There's a bunch of reasons for it but they're not important - I can't keep usin' me past as an excuse for every bloody thing. An' it's not fair t' you, either." Looking down at her scuffed Docs, she sighed. "People usually let me get away with shite like that, but it's about bloody time someone called me on it. So even if this is it,
you decide I'm too much bloody hassle, well at least I'll remember that I don't know everythin'. Not by half." She shot him a quick sideways glance and another of those brief smiles. "But you never let Strange know I said that - he needs someone t' keep him on his toes."
"I'll try not to let it slip to him. You know, since he and I spend so much time together." Charlie said sarcastically. "It's frustrating, Amanda. I guess I just don't understand you sometimes. You've got a bunch of friends in a pretty exclusive private school. From what Remy tells me, you've also found your birth family, been semi-adopted by a couple of the teachers, and have the opportunity to do whatever you want with your life with their blessings and no restrictions. Add on to that the European aristocrat boyfriend with the underwear model good looks and the personal tutoring of one of the foremost minds in the field of thaumaturgical studies. So I suppose the question is, what more to do want? What else is there you need to stop feeling like the world is still grinding it out on your back?"
Amanda had been about to mention that Strange had expressed an interest in meeting her partner in crime, but that was lost as she heard the rest and tried hard not to grind her teeth.
"Did you miss the part where I said I can't use me past as an excuse any more?" she retorted a touch sharply, before managing to get hold of her temper again. Charlie had a point, even if she was feeling cornered - apparently it wasn't enough to admit she was wrong, she had to have rammed down her throat. It was the discussion in her journal about the history of witch burnings all over again.
"You're not listening to me." Charlie said. Her sudden and sullen cast was a retreat into a persecution complex that he'd gotten used to seeing. It was something that he was getting used to; her on/off personality that flipped the switch one way or another, and ignored anything in between. "I don't pretend to know what you've been through -.I can't. As badly fucked up as I think my life has been at times, it doesn't compare to the things you've hinted at. But what is it that you need to be happy? I'm asking you."
"Sorry," she said, once she was sure she wasn't going to snap at him again. "You're right, I've got it all. I've got no call t' ever have issues with anythin'. Maybe things're finally calmed down enough for me t' relax an' trust that it's all not gunna end tomorrow." She sighed, the anger draining away. "I'm not a nice person, Charlie," she said at last. "Remy says I've got a bastard streak, an' he's right. I've spent so long fightin' everyone an' everythin' that sometimes I don't know how t' stop any more. An' sometimes I don't want to. 'Cause if I do, if I stop remindin' meself of how fucked up life can be, I get soft. An' that's when it all comes crashin' down an' the next time it happens I don't know if I'll make it out the other side." She shook her head slightly. "Tho' you'll just take that as me makin' excuses again, won't you? 'Cause I probably am. But that's how it is. I don't count me blessin's 'cause if I do, I'll have t' face
up t' the fact they can be gone just as easy as they came."
"That sounds like a really effective way to never appreciate anything, Amanda." Charlie shook his head. "One thing I know is that you don't get to control other people to avoid getting hurt. And if all the things we're doing together is just you waiting for me to hurt you or leave, is there a point? I want to be your friend, Amanda. But it hurts too much to settle for being this month's distraction instead." Charlie had dealt with abandonment too, and knew it was better to get the answers earlier than later.
"Friends works both ways - you said it yerself, I don't know hardly anythin' about you, an' that's not entirely my fault. I don't mean the personal stuff, since I think we can probably agree family's not the best topic for either of us, but you don't give anythin' away. What sort of music do you like? What's yer favourite movie? Are you gunna be joinin' all the rest of the bloody world in readin' the next Harry bleedin' Potter book?" Amanda's words held a certain note of intensity, but she was avoiding the accusatory tone - this wasn't about attacking Charlie, but it was about defending herself. "I like you, Charlie, a hell of a lot. More 'n I've liked anyone outside the school in ages. An' I'm sorry I hurt you an' you've been feelin' like you're just a distraction for me. I'm fucked up an' I know it, an' the best I can offer you is the next time I piss you off, kick me or somethin' before it gets out of hand." Again that brief, wry smile, flashing across her face.
"I'll hold you to that." Charlie nodded, although the slight smile had slipped from his face. "The truth, Amanda, is that I really don't have anything else. I read, and I study, and outside of that, I'm on my own. I haven't bothered to see a movie since I was a little kid, and occasionally there's a jazz station that's pleasant enough. But that's it."
"No wonder you an' Remy get on so well - he's just as bad with the nothin' else," she half-joked. Instinctively she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder, the same sort of comforting gesture she might have used on any of her friends, but she stopped, not wanting to presume. "Here's a thought - you, me, an' a movie this afternoon? If you've got time, that is? Give this bein' friends thing another shot?" The expression on her face was less guarded than anything she'd let him see before, filled with hopeful sincerity. And perhaps a touch of fear - she was giving him an opening, like he'd asked for. It was up to him what he did with it.
"You buying?" Charlie said slyly, a grin flickering across his face. Amanda laughed and nodded. "Then yes, a movie sounds good." He got up and slung his bag over his shoulder, starting down the street. Amanda fell in step beside him.
"I'll need popcorn. And maybe those caramel things covered in chocolate." He said, to Amanda's mock growl.
"Popcorn an' caramel things, got it. Talk about creatin' a monster," Amanda teased, nudging him with her shoulder companionably as they walked.
The art to the apology was in the timing.
Patience had never been a strong suit for Amanda, but she made herself wait, a small collection of cigarette butts by her feet indicating her nervousness. The last thing she wanted to do was barge back in feet-first and make things worse. So she watched through the window of the bookshop as Charlie wandered from shelf to shelf, looking through the sparse pickings - it wasn't one of the good places, but the owner didn't hassle you - before making her move. She'd practiced this spell all yesterday, using newspaper-wrapped bricks, until she got it working eight times out of ten.
It wouldn't do to lose a valuable book on a gesture, after all. Charlie worked his way along the shelf, sighing a little to himself. Crap, crap, total crap, oh God not another work expounding on the magic of the Harry Potter universe... Then there was the briefest flash of green light and a familiar-looking heavy volume appeared practically under his hand. Ignatious. Realms of Maelstrom. There was a post-it note stuck to the front cover, with a familiar scrawl: Sorry - A. PS: It's a short range spell if you want to talk.
Well, let it not be said that she wasn't creative. Charlie sighed, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and slid the book into his bag. He gave the clerk a short wave as he left, and just as anticipated, found Amanda waiting nervously in front of the shop. His eyes flickered briefly to the pile of cigarette butts, and he suppressed a smile. Obviously she'd been there a while.
"So, you've been following me for how long today to make this little gesture?"
"Well, not followin' you 'round so much as figurin' where you'd be..." Amanda stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her jeans to stop herself from biting her nails or twisting her t-shirt or any more of her nervous mannerisms and gave him a small, fleeting smile. "An' what's the point of havin' magic if you can't use it sometimes t' make the odd dramatic gesture, eh?"
"While I'm sure that comment would give Strange a stroke, I get your meaning." Charlie rubbed the tip of his nose absently. "You rehearsed what you're going to say yet, or are we just going to wing it?"
"Well, I had this big long speech an' all, but really what it comes down to is I'm a pushy, insensitive bitch an' I had no call hasslin' you like that," Amanda said with a slight shrug. "There was a bit 'bout not wantin' t' lose a mate 'cause of it, but I figured I'd wait an' see how you reacted t' the sorry part first."
"Sounds like a good start." Charlie sat down on the sidewalk bench in front of the store and dumped his knapsack at his feet. "And you're right. You are a pushy insensitive bitch, and worse, you've got yourself convinced that the way you think things should be is the only way."
"I didn't--"
"Amanda, this, uncharacteristically enough, is the part where I talk and you listen. So shut up and let me finish." Charlie said without heat, and Amanda flushed. One thing that she was learning was that Charlie, no matter what people might think, had a stubborn streak that doubled as a backbone. "I don't pretend to know or understand the things that you may have gone through. Nor do I do the same with Remy, and his hints make it sound pretty bad. Which is why when I see him looking completely isolated, I don't know what to say. When you get into your own moods about loss and friendship, I accept that I can't tell you what to do since I don't have either the information and experience to say anything. But, as boring as my life may be to yours, you only know a scrap of it. While I appreciate your offers to help, and even well meaning advice, you have to understand that you don't know enough to be able to make blanket statements and tell me what I should be doing."
Amanda nodded, not wanting to say anything until she was sure he was done. Taking a seat beside him - but not too close, since she didn't want to crowd him - she considered his words. "I hang on too tight t' people," she said at last. "There's a bunch of reasons for it but they're not important - I can't keep usin' me past as an excuse for every bloody thing. An' it's not fair t' you, either." Looking down at her scuffed Docs, she sighed. "People usually let me get away with shite like that, but it's about bloody time someone called me on it. So even if this is it,
you decide I'm too much bloody hassle, well at least I'll remember that I don't know everythin'. Not by half." She shot him a quick sideways glance and another of those brief smiles. "But you never let Strange know I said that - he needs someone t' keep him on his toes."
"I'll try not to let it slip to him. You know, since he and I spend so much time together." Charlie said sarcastically. "It's frustrating, Amanda. I guess I just don't understand you sometimes. You've got a bunch of friends in a pretty exclusive private school. From what Remy tells me, you've also found your birth family, been semi-adopted by a couple of the teachers, and have the opportunity to do whatever you want with your life with their blessings and no restrictions. Add on to that the European aristocrat boyfriend with the underwear model good looks and the personal tutoring of one of the foremost minds in the field of thaumaturgical studies. So I suppose the question is, what more to do want? What else is there you need to stop feeling like the world is still grinding it out on your back?"
Amanda had been about to mention that Strange had expressed an interest in meeting her partner in crime, but that was lost as she heard the rest and tried hard not to grind her teeth.
"Did you miss the part where I said I can't use me past as an excuse any more?" she retorted a touch sharply, before managing to get hold of her temper again. Charlie had a point, even if she was feeling cornered - apparently it wasn't enough to admit she was wrong, she had to have rammed down her throat. It was the discussion in her journal about the history of witch burnings all over again.
"You're not listening to me." Charlie said. Her sudden and sullen cast was a retreat into a persecution complex that he'd gotten used to seeing. It was something that he was getting used to; her on/off personality that flipped the switch one way or another, and ignored anything in between. "I don't pretend to know what you've been through -.I can't. As badly fucked up as I think my life has been at times, it doesn't compare to the things you've hinted at. But what is it that you need to be happy? I'm asking you."
"Sorry," she said, once she was sure she wasn't going to snap at him again. "You're right, I've got it all. I've got no call t' ever have issues with anythin'. Maybe things're finally calmed down enough for me t' relax an' trust that it's all not gunna end tomorrow." She sighed, the anger draining away. "I'm not a nice person, Charlie," she said at last. "Remy says I've got a bastard streak, an' he's right. I've spent so long fightin' everyone an' everythin' that sometimes I don't know how t' stop any more. An' sometimes I don't want to. 'Cause if I do, if I stop remindin' meself of how fucked up life can be, I get soft. An' that's when it all comes crashin' down an' the next time it happens I don't know if I'll make it out the other side." She shook her head slightly. "Tho' you'll just take that as me makin' excuses again, won't you? 'Cause I probably am. But that's how it is. I don't count me blessin's 'cause if I do, I'll have t' face
up t' the fact they can be gone just as easy as they came."
"That sounds like a really effective way to never appreciate anything, Amanda." Charlie shook his head. "One thing I know is that you don't get to control other people to avoid getting hurt. And if all the things we're doing together is just you waiting for me to hurt you or leave, is there a point? I want to be your friend, Amanda. But it hurts too much to settle for being this month's distraction instead." Charlie had dealt with abandonment too, and knew it was better to get the answers earlier than later.
"Friends works both ways - you said it yerself, I don't know hardly anythin' about you, an' that's not entirely my fault. I don't mean the personal stuff, since I think we can probably agree family's not the best topic for either of us, but you don't give anythin' away. What sort of music do you like? What's yer favourite movie? Are you gunna be joinin' all the rest of the bloody world in readin' the next Harry bleedin' Potter book?" Amanda's words held a certain note of intensity, but she was avoiding the accusatory tone - this wasn't about attacking Charlie, but it was about defending herself. "I like you, Charlie, a hell of a lot. More 'n I've liked anyone outside the school in ages. An' I'm sorry I hurt you an' you've been feelin' like you're just a distraction for me. I'm fucked up an' I know it, an' the best I can offer you is the next time I piss you off, kick me or somethin' before it gets out of hand." Again that brief, wry smile, flashing across her face.
"I'll hold you to that." Charlie nodded, although the slight smile had slipped from his face. "The truth, Amanda, is that I really don't have anything else. I read, and I study, and outside of that, I'm on my own. I haven't bothered to see a movie since I was a little kid, and occasionally there's a jazz station that's pleasant enough. But that's it."
"No wonder you an' Remy get on so well - he's just as bad with the nothin' else," she half-joked. Instinctively she lifted her hand to touch his shoulder, the same sort of comforting gesture she might have used on any of her friends, but she stopped, not wanting to presume. "Here's a thought - you, me, an' a movie this afternoon? If you've got time, that is? Give this bein' friends thing another shot?" The expression on her face was less guarded than anything she'd let him see before, filled with hopeful sincerity. And perhaps a touch of fear - she was giving him an opening, like he'd asked for. It was up to him what he did with it.
"You buying?" Charlie said slyly, a grin flickering across his face. Amanda laughed and nodded. "Then yes, a movie sounds good." He got up and slung his bag over his shoulder, starting down the street. Amanda fell in step beside him.
"I'll need popcorn. And maybe those caramel things covered in chocolate." He said, to Amanda's mock growl.
"Popcorn an' caramel things, got it. Talk about creatin' a monster," Amanda teased, nudging him with her shoulder companionably as they walked.
