i_speak_softly | Luceti Appointments

Robert, that's not -- [He makes a noise of frustration. This is too close to a question he asks himself, one that he still struggles with the answer to.]

[Not seeing this himself, Robert just cringes in place, hunching his shoulders before wringing his hands against his chest.]

I... I d-do not want to fail you. I... I do not want to... be inadequate for you...

... I already made so many mistakes before... you should not have to tolerate them. You deserve... perfection.

[And so this requires putting Don before himself in all things, and because perfection is impossible... Well, Robert's setting himself up to fail.]

No. [Don stands abruptly and stalks over to the sandbag.] You're not a failure. If I have expectations, and you don't meet them, then it's the expectations that are wrong. I don't want to change the facts to fit the hypothesis, Robert, I want the truth. [He grasps the bag and presses his forehead against it.] I want you.

[For a few long seconds Robert doesn't say anything. He doesn't even really know what to say to that. It's such a fundamental redefinition of dealing with... anybody, really. How many times has he felt like he should sacrifice himself on a pedestal for the sake of other people?]

... Don... [He looks up, over at where his partner is fiercely embracing the sandbag. His eyes are teary, but his voice is relatively strong.]

... How do I do that without... without being a disappointment...?

[He stands against the bag, trying to process this, then says softly:] I'm more disappointed by you lying to me than by anything you could say honestly.

[That makes him flinch slightly.] I never lied... I would do anything for you.

... and... and you have always made sense... [Robert doesn't exactly let himself see the other points of view most of the time, though.]

Robert - [Don turns from the bag, but leaves one hand fisted around the chain.] - do you want to learn self-defense?

[There's a long, poignant moment before Robert nods slowly, still staring down at his hands.]

I... cannot allow another to die without me doing anything...

[He smiles, sadly.] Perhaps it makes me a poor example of a Terran...

[His face goes serious, expressionless.]

Come here.

[With an expression just as serious, though tinged with a slight self-hating edge, Robert approaches Don and stands right in front of him.

He's not sure what to expect.]

[Don moves around to the other side of the bag, and holds it steady.]

Punch it.

[There is a long moment where Robert doesn't do anything, where he visibly hesitates - wavers - because this is such a difficult task to contemplate, hitting something without an explicit reason...

... He pushes away the crystal-clear memories of striking the dirigible jelly simulation. No. He can't get hung up on that. That's... not the same.

Despite obvious discomfort, he takes a half step forward and punches the sandbag. It's... a pretty pathetic punch, all things considered, but it is a punch.]

[It's honestly one of the most pathetic punches Don has ever seen, but that's not the point right now.]

[He moves out from behind the bag, and stands facing Robert with his hands at his sides.]

Punch me.

[...

Robert just stares openmouthed at that.]

... Wh-what?

Punch me. [He makes a beckoning gesture.] Come on.

How - why - ... Don, how could I do that?!

[Robert honestly looks genuinely terrified that Don is asking him to do this.]

The same way you just punched the bag. [He makes a kind of belligerent swagger, pantomiming being an enemy.] It can't be unethical to punch someone who asks you to do it.

[He will apologize profusely for this later. He has a good reason, really.]

B-But... [Robert just blinks in blank, frightened confusion.] You are my partner... how can I injure you for any reason...?

[The fact Don explicitly asked him to do it means that Don seems to encourage it, but that doesn't excuse the fact that it's hitting the person he loves...

He wrings his hands against his chest.]

Robert. [Don leans forward, and maybe a little over, given his height advantage, and taps his plastron.] Turtle. [He takes Robert's hands, stops the wringing, and folds one into a fist.] Try not to bruise your knuckles.

[And Robert just sort of lets his arms go limp, lets Don manipulate the fingers at his leisure, and just... stares.]

... Even if I do not injure you... it would be hitting you...

[Sorry, Don. He's just... clinging to this idea now because... really? Hurting Don?]

... why do you want me to hit you of all people?

Is there someone else you'd like to hit? [He does the absolute worst version of "bob and weave" he can manage, challenging Robert to throw that punch.]

No - I ... [Robert trails off, looking for all the world like a little helpless child being forced to give a presentation or something against his will.

Squeezing his eyes shut so that he doesn't actually have to watch his hand connect with his lover's smooth plastron, he makes some really pathetic, clearly-half-hearted attempt at a jab that is more like a glancing tap with his knuckles than anything, probably barely enough for Don to feel.

Then he kind of backs away and stares at the back of his hand with a look of poignant, almost-teary-eyed shame.]

[Robert, you have officially impressed your partner. He didn't think you would go through with it. His demeanor changes instantly.]

Are you hurt?

[Well, it's a good thing that somebody's impressed by it, because Robert is distraught.]

... N-No... but... [He gnaws his bottom lip profusely, staring down at his hand still as though it betrayed him.]

...

... I hit you...

I'm fine... [He brushes away some nonexistent dirt from his plastron, then takes Robert's hand again, kneading it with his thumbs.] Robert, I want to be able to do this with you. Do you hate it that much?

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