Sit By The Fireside [Catherine, Isamu]

...Why is he upset? Anyone would be happy for at least a little more time with someone they cared about, and she practically handed him some means of achieving that. He came, did his job, and did it well enough, so why was he upset he got this? She got unconventional means of payment all the time; jewelry, precious items, relics, materials, all sorts of things people gave in trade for her work - this... Shouldn't be any different. Payment for a job, payment for a job, payment for a job... She repeated that to herself every hour she burned her brain into figuring out how to read those texts, harvest the right ingredients carefully, and make the doses.

It. Was just. Payment. For a job. It wouldn't be out of the question to think she'd carved circles in her mind with how many times and how strongly she repeated the thought.

Then as Isamu actually spoke about her, outside of a breath of a mention during a drunk spurt or some shit, was when her dark gaze actually looked his way. Her expression was flat, neutral, yet her eyes were almost asking a question that didn't have an understandable reach, until she finally spoke up,

"Then why are you mad at me?" Her voice was abnormally calm for the normally annoyed Catherine, "Is getting something like this from me as payment so appalling to you? I guess you should feel that way - it was extremely selfish of me to even do this."

Slowly, her gaze lowered back to the fire, arms wrapped close around her bunched knees, "I'm disgusting, the worst person, I get it."

"Now hold on a minute. I didn't mean..."

What cruel manner of torture was she subjecting him to now? What was even going on with her right now? Even if they didn't exactly share the most productive conversations, Isamu didn't particularly revel in hurting any lady's feelings, especially those who went to currently unexplainable measures to provide him with resources for a loved one. Honestly, somewhere deep down, under that veil of nonchalance, he was touched beyond a degree even he couldn't quite pinpoint. But Catherine always seemed to treat him as though he were a nuisance to her at best, though that was totally justified considering the way he often carried himself.

Those who simply talked when needed, convened when necessary, and went their separate ways to live their own separate lives. And yet, she had been curious enough to singlehandedly discern things about her condition and provide a possible means for her recovery. To him, that was the type of act purely reserved for great friends or loved ones. Those you genuinely cared about. Catherine? Caring about him? The thought sounded preposterous. Either his mom left a good impression on her or she just... he just didn't know. At the very least, he wanted to fix the misunderstanding. Sighing softly, a sheepish grin lined across his face, he shook his head.

"Good grief. Listen... I'm not mad at you, Catherine. Getting this as payment means more than just... being paid for a good job. I just did what ya asked and stood around like a deer in the headlights. And you've provided me with means of nursing my mother's condition."

His hands raised in defeat, his gaze would fix on her own as he continued. This was... troublesome. Showing appreciation, being vulnerable, and genuinely thanking someone.

I'm not appalled at all, and the selflessness of the act is precisely why I'm so wound up. I'm just confused. Something like this is what I'd do for my dear friend, or a family member, or even a lover. Unless I missed something, I damn sight don't think for a second I'm any of those things to you. Stuff like this is the sorta' thing that'd endear a man to a woman and make them go; "Man, she could be the one." It means a lot. You've made my day. I'm not mad, but I am in shock."

He could ask what it was all about, but he'd reserve that after clearing the current misunderstanding.

"It wasn't me being selfless," Her hands tightened against her kneecaps, "I never do anything to be selfless. Everything I do, every breath I breathe, every thing I give or take, it's for my gain. Because that's how you get anywhere in this world, especially as someone who creates. This isn't a charity, this isn't me doing something out of the wellness of my heart, it's me doing something because I can."

She suddenly pushed herself to her feet for the first time since they settled, heavy footsteps from legs that felt like rock columns weighed down by her stomach until her shorter stature was before the dark man, pointing at him with a sense of intensity behind it, a means to sear this into his thoughts, even her false accent leaving her for the melodic tongue of her ancestors,

"I din't feel any way 'bout ye and yer mam, I just remember'd that and looked into it and just.. I needed somethin' to pay you with. That's it, that's all. This i'n't some grand gesture of love or attention or anythin' it's just... Business. And if you really care 'bout your mam so much, then it's payment well made."

Something wet rolled down her face. She turned away quickly, rubbing her pale features,

"You're looking for too much in the cold dead heart of a destroyer, you jackass."

"Is that so? Riddle me this, then, destroyer with a cold dead heart. You've known me long enough to know what I'm all about. At heart, I'm a simple man. I wouldn't expect you to pay me in women and booze, but a simple stack of cash would have been payment enough. That would have been business. This goes beyond business and I'm sure you're smart enough to understand that. If it did, do you really think I'd be pressin' the subject so much?"

He didn't believe that admission one bit. She knew him long enough to know he never demanded much outside of being paid handsomely. Anything else beyond that was considered extra, a show of good faith from his contractors. Catherine was neither a contractor nor someone looking to employ his talents. His point remained largely the same, his stance even more so.

As it stood, there were simply so many other options she could have chosen as a worthwhile payment, and she chose this. Rising from the ground, he sighed softly as his onyx gaze steadfast. Arms crossed, he stepped forward, moving closer toward her. Any other time? He could have simply let it be, but he knew his mind would be questioning her motives for days, or possibly even months.

"Crafting medicine with your own two hands ain't simple business no matter how much you try to flip it. Call me a jackass until the sun rises, but you know I'm right. Not a grand gesture? Bullshit. Could have given me anything else and we wouldn't be havin' this conversation. If it's nothing sentimental like that, then what is it? I'd like to know. Because right now, you've got my head all screwed up.'

She knew damn well why the subject was being pushed, she just didn't want it to be. But he didn't seem eager to rest with that, was he? He couldn't just grasp this little happy ending without a wonder or worry. Still she was turned away, held as if by the rope of his words in placed, feeling her heart pick in speed, warmth burning her face, eyes stinging with frustration that he wouldn't just let this REST!

Fine, he wanted her real feelings?

"I'm jealous of you, okay?!" Her voice raised with her head whipping around to suddenly interrupt him, eyes wide with anger and glimmers of hurt, "I only did this for you because the last person I knew in this situation turned into a total fucking mess when she died! If he just dug harder, looked further, did something, anything about his situation it would be fine, everything would be fine, he would be FINE. You've got it good, you have at least one person in your life doesn't treat you like shit or act like you don't exist, you've done everything you can for her, and now you have the means to make it better, you have one less grievance to swing about while drunk, you're fucking welcome!"

With a hard sigh, she'd turn away from him, and hastily walk away. Whether he wanted to come after her was his decision, all she did was walk into the darkness of the wood rubbing her temples.

"Jealous...?"

He was rendered silent twice in one day. A rare feat, to be sure, but Catherine had achieved it with resounding precision. Each harsh word that accompanied her impassioned admission pricked him like a needle internally. In a word, he was dumbfounded. He had never wholly thought the woman acknowledged him to this degree, never imagined she had listened to anything he said outside of presenting her with a business opportunity to collaborate on.

Some deeper part of his soul wondered if he had taken his mother for granted over the years, enhancing the weight of Catherine's words tenfold. He momentarily wondered, as he viewed her walking off, how he would operate at his mother's passing, imagined how empty that might make him feel. Whether it was her intention or not, it certainly reached him in a way he understood well enough. Ah, someone close to her had experienced the same. But who? he wasn't entirely certain she would tell him, but he didn't feel spiritually at ease to allow her to walk away. Following behind her, Isamu called out to the orange-haired woman.

"Wait. Don't walk too far off. Sheesh... this isn't the second time you've rendered me speechless today. I never thought you paid attention to my drunken rambling that much. Um, man... how can I word this..."

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, he pointed back at the fireside, stumbling over his words. He didn't know what the answer to his next question might be, but he didn't want to leave her festering in her current mood.

"Did you want to sit by the fire and talk? You weren't wrong, you know. I genuinely appreciate what you did so... let me help by like... you know... talking to you. We can talk about what's on your mind, or you can yell at me, but I won't feel right leaving you off to wander into the night."

What a night of firsts this was turning out to be.

Quick to remove herself from sight, Catherine settled herself behind a tree just out of the way, repeating a variety of mantras under her breath with a sense of haste. There she went, she broke a rule, she laid herself bare to another person, especially someone who was her competition. If her grandfather were here he'd at minimum have an hour long lecture of disgusting words for her for this little slip up and he'd be completely right to verbally disembowel her. Mistakes like that put one in a vulnerable position... Such an idiot.

She heard him calling out for her, yet she stayed hidden, quietly contemplating his words as her feet shuffled a little. Why was this idiot even running after her.. It wasn't worth it. Shouldn't he want her to be on the lower rungs? They competed so often with each other after all, but... She didn't feel any insincerity from him, he genuinely sounded concerned about her.

This was stupid, no - she should just stay in the dark until he leaves. He has to give up on her at some point, that always happened... Did she want him to give up on her, too?

...

A dull flash of brilliant orange hair would catch Isamu's gaze, her form darkened by her suit emerging from the dark of the woods. A deeply hesitant look was on her face, though she stood with arms crossed and sighed with a sense of resignation, "...Fine. I don't fully believe you, but fine."

"Come on. Cut me some slack here. This is a first for me, and if I didn't mean it, well, you know me."

An exasperated sigh brushed through his lips as he motioned for her to follow him back to the fireside. Were there to be any protest to that, he would simply transition into seating himself against a mound of dirt big enough to constitute a makeshift seat. His mind shifted through various questions and thoughts, dancing around how he might best approach hosting a conversation of this nature with a woman who was essentially his rival of sorts, a competitor in the murder game they called assassination.

Exhaling and inhaling, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit the flame, and spoke his honest feelings on the subject at hand. His onyx gaze as he regarded her was earnestly genuine, composed to avoid any misunderstanding that this wasn't a decidedly serious subject for him. He earned the right to talk, now the next step was learning about Catherine beyond their professional relationship.

"Can't say I expected to hear you say yer jealous of a degenerate like me, but here we are. There must be a connection between what you said about me and the last man who faltered. I know it might not be easy, and I can't promise I'll solve what's botherin' ya, but I'd like to talk about it with you. I want to know more about you. Bit of a gamble, that one, but hey, we've got all night until I get a yes."

Balled fists tight at her sides, her tense shoulders rigidly swung her arms in minute rhythms as they returned to the light of the fire, the larger flame having calmly diminished into nothing but ash, burned flesh, and exposed bone curled in a peace-like rest. Stormy eyes looked to him, and then back to the fire as he would come down to sit, making no measure to threaten or push him away, at least not yet. She owed him some form of talk after allowing her emotions to run off rails like that, regardless of how uncomfortable and strange she felt with the idea of revealing anything of herself.

"You're not solving anything. And I'm not telling you anything with the intent to get help. I don't need help - this is just what I owe you for the outburst."

A deep breath, she'd carefully think out what she would reveal rather quickly, and with an exhale... "I'm jealous of what you have. That you have some reason to go home - It just.. Surprised me. Most people who take up killing jobs like yours either don't have anything else left, or are fucking psychos. I don't have anything to go back to, ship's long sailed."

Somehow she looked ten times more exhausted with even thinking about that picture, those smiles burning in her eyelids all over again... "But... It isn't too late for you. You... You have someone left. You have someone that gives a shit about you... So congrats, that ticking clock's stunted if you follow the dosing directions.. You get to have your family..."

Her fists clenched so tightly they looked ready to bleed, expression twisted in pain and sickened anger with the sensation of bile on the tongue, "I'm, so happy for you..."

"Yea, yea. Keep crushin' a man's confidence, why don'tcha? I know I'm ill-equipped for this. Don't owe me anything. Ain't nothing wrong with speakin' your mind at least, right? Okay, then. Go ahead and speak. I'm all ears."

To say she was wrong would've been completely foolish. He wasn't deluded enough to believe he could warp her perception in a single conversation. Contending with that mountain of skeletons in her closet was quite simply something he viewed as beyond his station. Even now, her revelations left him dumbfounded. He didn't quite understand why she cared so much about this. His mother was a relative stranger, and he was a rival she begrudgingly worked with to ensure they both walked away well-paid. His expression was relatively neutral, his mind less so. Inhaling and exhaling another puff of the cigarette, he contemplated what to say next. All he found at the end for his efforts were, you guessed it, more questions.

"That... doesn't answer anything, ya know. Why are you jealous? I don't know what image you have of me, but... I'm not exactly son-of-the-year material. Nowhere close to that, even. I always fear that if she ever knew about what I've done over the years, she'd be ashamed of me. I just don't get it. There's nothing you stood to gain from it, you seem angry that I'm pressing the subject, and you still seem on edge. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and take a wild guess, but that person you mentioned earlier...were you talkin' about your father?"

His question was asked with some genuine care to his tone, a careful poise he didn't display easily. He posed the question in a form he felt would convey that, beyond his nonchalance, he genuinely cared about her current emotional state.