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Firo positively beams at Rey's assessment. Ennis is much loved among the Martillos as well, of course, but it always makes him happy to hear other people appreciate her. She went far too long without a scrap of goodwill thrown her way; she deserves this.

"She is." He could talk all day about how wonderful she is and why. Many times, he wants to.

"How can I tell?" He cocks his head to the side. Firo doesn't often think on the emotional cues he picks up. Sometimes he's just not paying attention to them, sometimes--like when working or playing card games--it's almost to instinctual to even articulate. But he'll use his brain for Rey.

He waves his hand at her. "Your face--sometimes people blush like that when they get drunk. It's somethin' we watch for at my place."

As far as Rey is concerned, Firo's allowed to talk all day, just to see if he can exercise enough words to do so. Wouldn't that be something?

Her brows knit when he explains, though. Flummoxed and still a little flushed, her hand slides from under her chin to her cheek. "My face?"

Suppose that would make sense. It's not like Rey's never been around drunk people before. In fact, she's seen plenty. She just has a hard time imagining herself looking quite like... that. But then, because of them she also knows a few tests to know for certain.

Setting down the glass, Rey straightens her posture in the chair. Her eyes close and, holding her right arm farthest from Firo straight out, brings her index finger to the tip of her nose without wavering for an inch. Afterwards, she looks back to Firo again with a small, reluctant smile before picking her drink up again.

"No, sober. Looks like I've still a ways to go. Strange."

Firo watches her perform her little test with a raised eyebrow. He'd be smirking if he weren't slightly concerned about her--what is she doing?

"Huh. ...You feelin' okay, then? Not gettin' sick or anything?"

Firo is, of course, aware that people blush when they're embarrassed. But there's no reason for Rey to be embarrassed, is there? Fever might be more likely, if that's a problem for a woman who can go up like a torch.

Hey, if Firo's job involved watching for drunk people, it was only natural for Rey to assume that he would know the touch-your-nose sobriety test!

Truth is, she's not entirely sober, but enough to get her buzz on. Just not nearly as buzzed as she'd like to be.

"No, not sick. Or anything. Feel fine." She wavers, then downs the shot she's holding. Seems that she's going a little fast than usual. What is pacing. "Feel fine," she imprudently echoes under her breath, because seriously -- she should know better by now than to say shit like that at Firo.

Firo's about to polish off his drink, but pauses mid-sip.

"Then what's up?"

An alternative--probably the most logical one so far--occurs to him and he slowly lowers his glass to the bar. He stares down at it, now blushing himself, though more with guilt than anything else. "...Um, it doesn't like... embarrass you when I talk about Ennis or anything, does it? I-I thought you were okay with it!"

Rey is in the process of downing another one of her shots when Firo speaks.

And then, she chokes. The bourbon halfway down her throat before she's coughing it back up and into her hand she's clapped over her mouth.

Only her eyes turn towards him, her other hand going for a cloth from behind the counter to dry her hands and face with. "No no no no, it's nothing like that," she explains as she finishes cleaning the liquor off her, then throwing the towel back down over the counter. "It's-- It's personal, sorry. Don't worry about it."

Honestly, Rey should know better by now than to keep saying stupid things.

Edited 2015-07-13 09:59 (UTC)

That's not the reaction he expected. Firo watches her clean herself off as he tries to figure out how the heck to react.

"...If it's gonna make you choke, I think I'd better worry about it."

He laughs as he says it, but it's tinged with nervousness. His eyes stay fixed on hers, waiting expectantly.

Rather than going for more booze, Rey slides her arms over the bar counter, crossing them idly, her posture more indolent than usual. Even she can't discern whether it's the alcohol or the subject matter that's gotten to her.

Shaking her head, her eyes shift back to focus on the line of shotglasses in front of her, still not going for another one. Finding the right words to explain any of what ails her is easier said than done, when Rey doesn't entirely understand any of it herself. She'd never even had the chance to confide in her own brother about any of it. How would she have been able to start that conversation, anyway? It just makes this all the more awkward.

"There's nothing wrong with you talking about Ennis, promise. It's actually nice, hearing the way you talk about her." She shifts her forearm to place a finger over the brim of an empty shotglass, tilting it idly. "It sounds nice."

The thought of someone ever talking about her the same way, or her ever finding the words to illustrate such an alien emotion, seemed like such an incongruous concept to her years ago. But between her return home and feeling the things Firo has felt about this woman he clearly loves--

"I've just been confused," she finally explains... sort of.

Firo runs his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the warmth he knows is coming from his face. "Um, thank you." He bobs his head in something like a nod of gratitude, something like simple acknowledgement of her words. "That's... that's good to know."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar. "Confused how?"

Rey's a Smart Person. Not simply intelligent, but one of those people that Firo imagines he could ask any piece of trivia and they'd have the answer. Firo can't really picture her all that confused outside of a conversation about her own humanity.

If it helps, Rey can't even bring herself to look at Firo anymore to note his face, otherwise she could've easily attempted to draw attention to that. But she just nods at his thanks, and exhales a strained breath.

The answer to such a simple question shouldn't be so fucking difficult to figure out, but for a moment Rey feels more like retreating into her own head, trying to sort through the jumble of words to describe what feels like the indescribable.

She continues rocking the shotglass with the one forefinger on her right hand in silence, her shoulders slacking as she opens her mouth to speak, but no reply can be formed yet. Instead, she practically deflates over the counter, slumping over it in defeat with only the glass she's still fiddling with in front of her face, chin resting against the surface. For someone who claimed sobriety just a moment ago, Rey's definitely carrying herself like a person who is... not, even if she doesn't slur when she does speak...

"Feelings. The way you feel about Ennis, and--" She pauses, already not off to a good start with this. Then suddenly the shotglass slips and lands on its side with a clank. Rey blinks, and narrows her eyes at it. "Suppose I just don't understand -- why something like me would ever be allowed to feel anything like that about someone. Some of it makes sense to help better imitate people, but what's the point in making something that was intended to be a tool to ever-- feel those things towards another person?"

Of course, it was never the intention of her original makers for her and her brother to be utilized for violence. Things just turned out that way because of how they ended up. Rey doesn't entirely know about that, though.

When she slouches on the bar, Firo starts, his own posture becoming rigid with alarm as hers goes relaxed. For a moment, he thinks of taking it back and apologizing; plainly this is doing... something to her. But then she finally speaks and he shuts his mouth to listen.

When she finishes on that question, he's still quiet for a moment. The outrage he feels at hearing a friend referred to as a tool had nearly bubbled out of him when he spoke, but now his feelings are too tangled up for him to know what exactly he wants to say. He rights her glass before looking back up at her.

"Maybe they fucked up. Isn't a good thing? You still feel 'em now, so..." He shrugs.

He doesn't realize just yet the implication that Rey may have just admitted to liiiiking someone.

Her eyes focus in and out at the glass as Firo fixes it back upright, and with a passing thought Rey wonders if she's as sober as she thought she was. Or perhaps it's just that having stupid feelings makes her more animated than usual. Who the hell knows.

"Then they did a phenomenal job at fucking up." Not even going to pretend for a second that this is a good thing. "Who knows, maybe it was intentional. Maybe it was my father's last big hurrah at seeing how badly he can mess me up even more than he already has: Make me like someone who, by all counts, should hate me and want me dead. Why not? It's not like I can ever have anything normal, anyway."

Well, there you have it.

At that, Rey just slams her forehead against the counter with an ugh and thunk hard enough to rattle some of the glassware in front of her. She hadn't wanted to talk about any of this since she got back.

He winces when she hits her head. Not so much at the sound as just the thought of it. Friend is hurt. That hurts Firo. "Rey. Cut it out."

He taps his fingertips against her forehead, then tries to coax her face up.

It slowly occurs to him that some of the stuff she's saying is awfully specific. While he knows few people from her world, he wonders if nailing down just who this person is will help talk her out of the thought that that person should hate her. "...Who's this, exactly?"

The pain in Rey's head doesn't even register until she feels Firo touching it lightly. It's not the worst she's ever felt -- hell, at this point she hardly notices it. Rather, it's the tone in her friend's voice that hits her harder than the impact, bringing her head back up to place her chin over her arms crossed over the counter.

Casting Firo a sidelong look, she huffs and darts her eyes to the shelves in front of them. "Doesn't even matter. It shouldn't, anyway, because they're back home and not here and maybe that's just for the best."

Time to put your foot when your mouth is, don't you think, Rey?

Seeing her up is better and he settles back in his chair.

Maybe who isn't the right question, considering it sounds like the two of them are tangled up in a pickle much larger than a simple crush. "What happened? With all a' this."

He's surprisingly patient for a Firo, sipping quietly from his glass as he keeps his eyes fixed on her. He will hear this story, but there's no need to rush it out of her just yet. Of course, he doesn't even know how to do that in the first place.

Rather than stewing in prolonged quiet, searching for all of the right and eloquent words, they just spill out of her mouth instead, blurting: "That's the thing, I don't know what happened. It isn't like I've ever thought of her or anyone that way. Whether it's these memories I have or something else -- I just couldn't stop thinking about trying to make things right, but it never will be because I can't seem to do anything right, and after all those things I've done and the people I'd hurt and she's one of the ones I hurt the most."

Her jaw clenches, quietly shutting off her stream of consciousness before barely collecting herself again.

"Before she knew who I was, she helped me. I was a stranger and yet she was nice. I don't think I'd known anyone like that before I met her, and I... I think I really admired that. More so, even when she did know who I was and for some reason she didn't kill me in my sleep, though she honestly would've been justified in doing so. After all, I killed her wife."

Indirectly so, but Rey was still the cause of that death and it meant little difference either way. The cruel reality of it earns itself a single terse, joyless laugh.

"How fucked is that." Don't worry, Firo. It's a rhetorical question... statement. Thing.

Immediately, Firo wants to protest that Rey does plenty of things right. But as she speaks, he's stopped with his mouth hanging open.

It's not even the phrase "her wife"--a very odd thing to hear out loud in Firo's time--that gives him pause. Nor is it the fact that Rey killed a woman, because Rey's obviously killed a lot of people; no sense crying over that spilled blood.

But of all the people to fall in love with, it had to be the one related to one of those victims. Damn it, Rey, what is with you and all your regrettable murders?

He scratches his head. "...Okay. So, uh, are you sure she doesn't like you..?"

He never thought he'd be giving anyone love advice. Especially not for a situation as, admittedly, fucked up as this one.

It didn't occur to her before Rey said it how Firo just might consider some of the things she said as odd. She just huffs at his question.

"Seemed that way for a while. But everything that happened between us before was during wartime, and we were on opposing fields -- she said it herself, it would've been me or them either way. That's just how it is."

Which is fair. Hell, Rey even gets that logic. If two sides continued to wage war over every act of brutality, there would never be an end to anything.

Exhaling through her nose, Rey's gaze locks on the wall of liquor bottles behind the counter and she contemplates drinking the whole stock before she can get through this damned conversation. "In the end, the one thing she's ever asked of me had to be the most impossible-- and I understood that what she practically meant was that there was no way she could ever forgive what happened."

At least, not from where Rey was basing her interpretation.

Edited 2015-07-20 08:00 (UTC)

"Guess that makes sense... Still, where I'm from people'd want revenge either way if you killed one a' their own..."

Wait. That's exactly the opposite of helpful.

He clears his throat as he tries to recover from that misstep. "What exactly did she say? As much as you can remember--no offense, Rey, but I think sometimes you read too much into things."

It's not exactly the phrase he's looking for and that's a good thing because it's less harsh. Though he admittedly hasn't seen her do it too much, he knows Rey is harsh. Therefore, he assumes that she might twist the words to hear what she wants to hear, essentially, which would be awful things about herself.

Most people would want revenge for that sort of thing where Rey's from, too. Actually, most people would generally want it no matter where you are. But, perhaps, at least in Rey's mind, Faye Elms already had her revenge. Because dying is always easier than living, for someone who has died many, many times.

Of course, in truth Firo has Rey completely pegged on that note -- she does have an amazing penchant for reading into things the wrong way, especially in this case, when that way just ends up hurting more.

No offense taken, she sighs, remembering the last actual conversation that they had before everything went to shit.

"She said to try to forgive myself before begging for it from anyone else, least of all her." Resisting the urge to bang her head against the counter again, she clenches her teeth. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that? How does anyone do that?"

Because clearly it's such an unreasonable demand to forgive yourself.

Firo pauses, eyebrow raised because... that's just really weird. He's biased towards Rey, of course, but even so he could never imagine saying something that charitable if someone killed the woman he loved. Forgiveness wouldn't be in the question.

He thinks about it for a long moment, he really does.

Unfortunately, Firo isn't the best person to ask on this. With the proper motivation, he can commit pretty bad crimes without blinking an eye. On the other hand, he thinks little of lugging around guilt that may or may not be deserved for years. It's just how it is. "You could forget all about it. I'm serious. I know you don't like that stuff, but..." He shrugs and takes a drink.

"You're not gonna fix anything by hatin' yourself now. Not for either of you. I mean, maybe she'd feel better if somethin' happened to you, but then I'd have to go and kill her and I don't think you want that."

In most normal scenarios, Rey would hate hearing about that stuff. She'd shoot Firo a glare and tell him how little his solution solves anything, either.

Perhaps there are some exceptions she hadn't ever considered, though. And this just happens to be one of them. She's too tired and flustered and frustrated to try and find a veritable objection.

In spite of the subject matter, she scoffs at Firo's last comment -- mostly because, several years ago, something did happen to Rey, and Faye was standing right there with every opportunity to have her revenge. But she didn't, and that was confusing.

"Think she was right about one thing, though. How can anyone expect acceptance when they can't even begin to like who they are? Seems like a bit of a paradox, doesn't it? It's like trying to fill someone's glass with an empty pitcher."

There's the problem. Rey doesn't know how to not hate herself after all the things she's done. Why bother hoping for someone with their own valid reasons to see differently?

"C'mon, talkin' about it like that--" He waves his hand vaguely, but he means to refer to her simile. "--just makes it more confusing."

He's doing his best, he almost wants to add, but he thinks that bringing up how bad he is at people and their emotions wouldn't really help her right now.

"Anyway... I don't think it's like that." He thinks of Maiza, hating himself all those years. Firo and all the Martillos still love him. He thinks of Ennis, still regretting all she's done. Firo and all the Martillos and Czes and Isaac and Miria still love her.

...And though he tries not to, he thinks of the little feral child he used to be, the one who never even thought about being okay with himself. Somehow, the Martillos loved him too.

He taps his fingers on the bar and shifts in his seat, both trying to organize his thoughts and to distance himself from that one.

"...Maybe people can't always give that to you if you don't like yourself, but... I think sometimes gettin' it from someone else first helps."

Sending Firo a brief, apologetic look for her inappropriate metaphor, Rey frowns as she listens to him. She shifts her head the other way, cheek resting against the back of her forearm. It's not typical of her to slide into such a physical position, and one can guess that it has much less to do with feeling relaxed so much as defeat.

"Knowing me, I probably wouldn't even know what to do with it if it shot me in the face."

Speaking of inappropriate metaphors, that's really not funny coming from someone who has actually shot herself.

But, you know. That's just Rey, being her usual typical, frustrating, self-deprecating self.

He shakes his head. "But that's what I mean--you don't need to do anything, it just kinda... comes to you."

Fills you right up, if he were comfortable enough to borrow the metaphor.

He sighs and looks off to the side. Who is he kidding? How can he help her when he's still so confused about how he even got to a place where he could love people?

"...I know it's stupid. But I think you've got some people like that, even if they're not her, so... Maybe you can use us to fake it?"

There's him here and Orion at her home, at least. That's a start and honestly more than Firo would've found likely.

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