in my heart i can fly.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe chooses not to accompany Henry to his workplace, though she probably will at some time or another--she is genuinely curious about it, but Huan requires soothing, so she takes the time to settle him in once she's alone at the house.

Comments

[beingtwofold]

Henry, 'the disciplinarian,' puts Huan in his bed in the washing-room when he gets back (after taking in the scene of woman, dog and wineglass, at which his expression was half fond, half consternation; thus the dog is away and not bounding merrily around the house), then returns to sit on the couch with Hasibe, letting the movie flicker in front of them in companionable silence for a few minutes before he finda whatever they have that passes for a remote and shuts it off with a sigh.

Hasi knows him well enough by now to know there's something on his mind, and there are a lot of somethings this particular late evening, one of which actually is the little girl and her dead thing (he couldn't see it, but he could feel it, and that's something to think about on its own, like having one pair of eyes open while numerous others stay closed), but it isn't his most pressing concern. After a while he stirs himself out of this wordless reverie and loops his arms over her shoulders, a familiar gesture for an unfamiliar conversation.

Incoming, anyway. "What's on your mind, hm?" There doesn't necessarily have to be anything, but there is that second glass out.

[oleanderknife]

She can definitely tell there is something going on, but assumes it was the scene in the bar, too--when he sits with her she curls against him automatically with a little smile, their greeting wordless, fond, her lips brushing his cheek at one point in a gesture of absent affection. But then he does speak, and she pauses, one hand on his knee, dark hair now loose (one of the first things that she did when she got home) and brushing the back of the sofa when she shrugs.

"Just the nuances of the Nexus, I suppose, and what I can't really do about it. It's not too pressing, though, I think I'm mostly not thinking about anything."

She actually sets her wine glass down on the end table nearest so she can focus on him and their conversation; it's not entirely a coping mechanism, because if it were she would have automatically gone for something harder, but it is definitely telling, all the same. "What's on your mind?"

[beingtwofold]

As is so often the case he doesn't answer quite immediately, even though he knew the question was coming there isn't an easy way to answer, and he has spent enough time trying to find one to know anything that resembles 'easy' is also not very true.

"Before I say anything I want it noted that this isn't a snap observation I'm making," he starts, which ...surely heralds nothing heavy, not with an opening like that, "I have weighed the merits of discussing this for a while, and I'm bringing it up because--you are so important to me, you're the most important thing in my life, so I promise I would never try to make you feel guilty about anything, but I think you should know that I'm starting to worry about how much you drink."

He does manage to maintain eye contact for having delivered ...all of that, it seems fair. "I hope this doesn't seem like I'm blindsiding you, or that I'm upset with you or--anything, I'm not. I just--I need you to be around, and to be okay, and I want to be able to be honest."

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe is quietly attentive throughout this, but she does (notably) stiffen up somewhat when he gets to the crucial bit there. She understands that he is just concerned, but she looks visibly taken aback by this, and after a moment pushes down her bizarre instinctively defensive response. She glances from Henry to her wine glass and back again, as though a solution lies between them. Still, her instinct is to reassure; she can tell by how carefully he's saying this he's also worried about bringing it up.

"No, it's--well, I'm surprised, but it's okay."

She touches her hand to her temple, head tilted to one side. The idea that she drinks too much honestly hadn't occurred to her yet; so much of it is normalized, and she always figured that if she were an alcoholic, she'd try to hide it, she'd feel some shame.

"Do I really drink that much? It's not as though I get drunk often..."

Sometimes she has a glass--once in a while in the morning. And usually in the afternoon, and before bed, but it never seemed like all that much, just a pleasant edge to her day when she had no reason not to do so, no driving to do or what have you.

[beingtwofold]

Henry is presumably not privy to all of this, especially not now that he's working again and keeps regular, reasonably reliable hours. This was notably not the case with his last job, but then he wasn't consistently coming home to anyone either, even when he was in a relationship. So he only has what he's noticed to observe, and relevantly a significant portion of their time together thus far has been wrapped up in his very large problem, which was not one that exactly required a lot of careful option weighing: it was immediate and obvious and not even remotely avoidable, the way a problem like this in its early stages can seem.

What seems easiest is a statement that's something like noting that it seems like a lot to him, so it could just be determined well, like usual they aren't coming from the same perspective, which is part of why it took so long to bring this up. So he doesn't go that direction, and when she looks at her wineglass he does too, instinctively following her eyes for a second. It might be better if that wasn't out, or maybe it's just going to sit there and underscore everything, he doesn't know. Either way he looks mostly at her, smoothing the dark hair away from her face like touching her will reassure her too, somehow, because he doesn't really want to be having this conversation, but--they have to.

"I'm noticing it happening with enough frequency that we're having this conversation. So I don't know if the point is whether or not you get drunk, I think it might be why you're drinking, which isn't something I can presume to answer for you."

Nor uh, should he, so.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe frankly has to take a moment to think about that; she would kind of like to change the subject, and she briefly thinks about trying to distract him, but that would be manipulative and unacceptable and that's not how they run their relationship, they made promises toward honesty. So: she takes a deep breath, and says, truthfully, "I think I'm just used to it. I didn't realize it was that much--I knew you weren't totally comfortable, but..."

Trying to explain that will be harder, but now that it's out, that's a start. "On set, drinking to get through a day--because I was bored, because I didn't want to do something, because it just sort of put a pleasant edge on everything, that was normal. I used to use coke and prescription pills as a kid and in the beginning of my career when I was doing those snuff films, and after a while I suppose I sort of missed that edge when it was gone."

There's a pause.

"Which is how alcoholism starts, come to think of it, but I am not...I don't think of myself as being that person. I'm not a mess, at least, not that way."

But she also didn't think of herself as the kind of person who ended up in an abusive relationship, hostage to any kind of sexual, animalistic possession, terrified of her bed partner, and yet: there was Hyde. She didn't think of herself as the kind of person, growing up, who did pornography or sold sex, even if she adapted to it reasonably well, in as much as that is feasible. So this, too, forces Hasibe to acknowledge something that even someone who is generally pretty self-aware and self-analytical can forget, and that is that kind of girl is any girl, any person, and she is not special or exempt because she has psychic powers or because she is 'smarter than this' or 'better'; no one is better than this. That's a hard pill to swallow, and it might take her a minute to process.

[beingtwofold]

The problem is there that Henry would struggle with not letting himself be distracted, as previously mentioned he doesn't want to be having this conversation at all--no one wants to have this conversation; presumably no one sane leaps out of bed enthusiastic at the prospect of telling his or her partner they're concerned a chemical dependency is in the process of developing. And it's also been noted he finds her problems easier to surmount than his, thus making them easier to talk about, but this is not something they can fix by discussing it, at least not in its entirety.

But there's enough here to struggle with anyway, some of what she's imparting he didn't know, and like when she told him about how her relationship with her father came apart, he has to wrestle with the impulses in himself that whisper he could make things better for her by violent means even though objectively he is aware this would not help anything, especially not Hasi, who is empathetic beyond all description in most respects. Even if he could somehow strike out at what might be identified as causes, it wouldn't change where they are now.

So he tries to focus on now, instead, giving her a little space on the couch to study his hands in his lap. "I don't think you're a mess. I think you've been through so much in a very short time, and I can't understand what that was like, but I can understand--that you had to get through it any way that you could. But I am - to reiterate - worried about where things are headed as a result of that, and that's not about what I think you're defining as a mess, it's that I'm ultimately concerned for your health."

He pauses, too, after ....that, all of it. "I have--I don't make a lot of decisions for you, that isn't how we work, and I'm glad. So I'm not telling you to do anything or not, but--I will, if I think I have to, and I don't know how that's going to change things for us."

[oleanderknife]

She is quiet for a long time, recognizing how difficult this is for him--and she wants to talk about that, too, because she feels like they have done too much for her, lately, all this stuff about how she feels and her past when he's been just as traumatized as she has, but she always gets like this whenever she feels too much focus is on her. Possibly this is kind of an issue in and of itself, but the matter at hand is another one, so she, too, focuses on that. Hasibe reaches out to tilt his chin up so he can meet her eyes, unwilling to let him look away from her for too long.

"Okay, to begin here..." She assembles her thoughts as best she can, resting her hands on her lap, now, too. "The fact that my first response here was to get weird and defensive probably does mean it's...not great. I'm not an alcoholic, I know I'm not, but--I can dial it down to wine with Friday night dinners or when we go out, and anything harder...I don't know, maybe just if I go to a party or something. Or I don't know what you'd prefer there, because--this is the second thing--"

She pushes her hair away from her face again. "A lot of this relationship is stuff that I will always want to do, that I will always be okay with, and that's when it's easier and fun, but--even though we're not doing a twenty-four-seven thing where you control everything I do, because that's ridiculous and not our style--there is also a side to it where if you absolutely say no to something...yes, I will probably go along with it. The safeword we have is not just for sex, you know? It's for other stuff, too. And I don't want to distract from the topic at hand, but I want you to know that even if I don't like it, I am giving you this, if you want it; this kind of control extends in a few ways other than just sexually. But if you don't want that to be an aspect of things and want to keep it just bedroom, that is absolutely okay, too."

[beingtwofold]

At a later time it is probably something they'll need to get into; Henry perceives all of his own trauma (and he is not especially good at recognizing it as such) as self-inflicted (which ...it was, even if he had no way of knowing what he was getting into) and therefore less valid than virtually anything that's happened to Hasi, who has been dealing with experiences not of her own choosing by dint of various unchangeable aspects of who she is for her entire life. But separately to that he would, extremely predictably, balk at the idea that there is too much focus on her, since as he is fond of stating there is nothing more important to him than her. The current issue(s) at stake are as noted enough to navigate on their own, however, and presumably they have time for all of the other aspects of just staying alive and healthy and maintaining a successful relationship.

Speaking of which, it may be the certain defined aspects they are secondarily discussing at play here, or it may just be the fact that both of them are enormously physically affectionate (at least with each other; Henry still doesn't really touch anyone else): either way it is apparently impossible for this conversation to continue until he tugs her into his lap, for nestling purposes. It's warm and important and gives him space to think, as does furthering this by tugging the fallen blanket over them, because he does not really provide much in the way of body heat anymore.

"Sometimes I wonder who's really in charge here," he murmurs, and he is entirely kidding, but: there is some meat to the idea that ultimately he requires she give him permission to exercise the kind of control they're discussing, and any permutation thereof, so. (The one who's really in charge of their house now is Huan, by the way.)

"Agreed as we are that neither of us is interested in total power exchange, then," man, he is awesome at this terminology now, "because realistically, I just don't have time--I understand sometimes in those cases one partner determines what the other wears, and it would take me a weeks at a stretch just to catalog your wardrobe," levity! ...yes, "then if you're comfortable with extending me that, then so am I. And what that means in this situation is that we can compromise, but it may be temporary."

He bumps his chin on the top of her head, thoughtful. "Right now I'd prefer that you don't drink unless I'm with you, and we can see how that goes. Can you live with that?"

[oleanderknife]

He may be somewhat lacking in body heat these days, but she is always a couple degrees above normal, and with the blanket they'll average out just fine, Hasi feels. She curls into Henry automatically, cheek against his shoulder, hand catching in the material of his shirt. His first comment, flippant as it is, makes her tip her head up slightly in a playful grin, but it's dimmer than it might ordinarily be--because while she is reacting okay, she does feel a little bit caught out there, still, and furthermore it's not appropriate to get too teasing right away.

"You should let me decide what you wear," she suggests, innocently, and...okay, apparently that much playfulness was necessary, but she continues on soon enough, "but okay, yes. That much control is yours, too, and I will abstain unless we're together, and go in moderation at the same time. I don't think I've been really drunk since we got together, but...like you said, that's not the point."

Hasi tips her head up again to kiss the side of his jaw, as though this seals it.

"And I don't want to drink anymore tonight, either--well, no, I want to, but I won't."

[beingtwofold]

"Let me up for just a second, if you would." Assuming she doesn't object bodily and strenuously to this he will kiss her temple and leave her on the couch for as long as it takes to empty the contents of her glass in the sink--it's only half-full, hardly a dealbreaker, but: that kind of hair splitting in the shape of 'compromise' is the top of a very steep, very slippery slope, and as much as Henry intrinsically gives Hasi pretty much anything she wants, he knows it would be a harmful step.

When he comes back he sits next to her, although his lap is available 24-7, that's just a thing with them. "Thank you, by the way--very much. I weighed this for so long, I thought if it was just me being overprotective then there was no point, and we have to see how things wash out, but I--so much has happened sometimes I think the only thing left for me to be afraid of is losing you."

So ...there's that. "And I promise I'll help you, if you need it, or even if you just want me to. Anything, okay?"

Factually speaking a lot of the focus may be on her, lately, but he asks a lot, too.

[oleanderknife]

"I know." She smiles at him, and--there was a moment there where she twinged, she wanted to say I have self-control, I won't automatically drink it but she knows that's not what's going on. It's symbolic, emptying out that wine glass; no crutches, not between them, not around them, they don't need that anymore. So she slides forward onto his lap again, blanket tucked around her shoulders, Hasi's bare legs on either side of Henry's waist, a way they've been many times before but never seems to fade in its appeal.

"I love you," she tells him, "and I love that you want to protect me. So--even if I don't seem very grateful, I am glad you brought this up, I am thankful, and I will presumably be more thankful when I've had some time to process it."

She rests her hands on his shoulders, blanket slipping back a little bit.

"You're always there for me, but I want to remind you that I am here for you, too, and we don't have to do it tonight, but at some point there is some stuff with you we need to talk about too, okay? And that I will push."

[beingtwofold]

"You didn't get much warning," he acknowledges as far as processing time goes and failing entirely to object to the rehasification of his lap. "The next time we need to discuss something with this much weight to it we can arrange a time in advance, sound fair?"

When Hasi starts back to school (a concept to which Henry stubbornly refuses to apply 'if'), their schedules may become disparate enough that they'll have to do things like that anyway, but they'll make time for each other. Of the things he takes it into his head to worry about, that is pretty low on the list. Maybe even underneath the subject (or subjects, or one subject with many smaller ones branching off) she's just brought up, and as she has correctly surmised, he is not exactly eager to go there.

But this does work both ways. He puts his hands on her waist, lightly, which involves some tangling with the blanket and yet does not deter him at all. "I know you're here. If there's something you'd like to talk about, though, now is--well, we're here already."

In the talking place, apparently.

[oleanderknife]

"Very fair."

Now, however, Hasibe has to come up with a good way to describe certain things she has observed in him--and it has required close watch, because he's pretty internal with most of his issues, as they have previously noted, but Hasibe is very determined to keep that from happening again. She's been in his mind, so she knows his coping mechanisms, and she knows where this went awry before, although she does have perfect faith that they won't go down that road again...it doesn't mean those behaviors are good.

"I know that...you tend to be--uh, very much a guy with this stuff, in that you don't really like, break down, and you don't like to talk too much about when you're hurt or when you're dealing with stuff you can't deal with in an academic way, 'cause with that intellectualization, there's--some distance. But," and she is serious about this without being too somber, speaking quietly to Henry in their house they share, "with everything that has happened, that is not always possible or a great idea. So we need this stuff to be out, it needs to not be secret so we can deal with it, or when it's things I can't know or help you with for whatever reason, at least have it...you know, expressed. Somehow--I just know that you have a lot of guilt, for what happened to those other people, and--and with me, but I know you also have other stuff, too."

[beingtwofold]

Henry listens to all of this, quietly, face impassive and then less so; on some levels it is still a little disconcerting to be known this well, but then--it's a relief, too, not to have to hide, and so there's some surprise there, too, because a lot of this is behavior he wasn't precisely aware that he was doing. Even when he was he had judged he wouldn't worry her with it, but he should know better by now than to think he can do that for long, and as such he laughs a little, rueful.

"You know me so well." For a little while that's all he says, but it doesn't really answer any of what she's observing, so he takes a stab at that, briefly. "Hasi--do you know what I am now? Because...I don't."

He hasn't actually said that out loud before. And he doesn't really expect her to have an answer, but all the same it'd be nice if she did.

[oleanderknife]

That question takes her aback, for a moment, but not in as harsh a way as when he confronted her on the drinking--she hesitates, but it's not because she doesn't want to tell him so much as she is not absolutely certain. There was a point when potentially she could have found out, but it wasn't the concern, at the time, and furthermore she wasn't anticipating being around to see what he became afterward. Still, she might have guessed; Hyde was completely inhuman, and Henry is, like most things in human costume around this world they inhabit, somewhere in between.

"Well...you know that I am not normal. And unlike most people who are also not normal, I was always like this, I was born aware of the difference. I don't know what I am, it's never really been documented or pinpointed, but I do know there are a lot of people out there who aren't straight-up human; they live lives like anyone else, but they are something supernatural. There's a market, though, like I think I've said, where you can get added to, or augmented, or taken away from, like an black organ market but with pieces of people who aren't human."

She meets Henry's eyes, steady; there is a flare of anger underneath, hidden and muted, but it isn't directed at him.

"I think that whatever chemicals Pentex gave you had some kind of supernatural genetic material, or the spiritual version thereof. So, no, I don't know what sort, exactly, but--uh--if I had to guess, I'd say something animalistic." There's a pause. "...not that I mind that, but that's not the point. The point is, I think they were trying to use you to refine that market, because as it is it's messy and invasive, and to a degree you succeeded, but you are changed in the process. So I don't know what you are, but I do know who you are, if that helps, and...I have been through this, so I will help you adjust to these new abilities however I can."