milliways_bar: Talking to Nat
"You shouldn't have left."
He should have known she'd show up. He should have known she would come after him. Natalie was, if anything, a good and loyal friend.
"He wanted space."
She growls, as she knows where this is going.
"And that's why you left, huh? That's the only reason?"
He doesn't answer a moment, moving from the piano (where she'd found him) to the wine rack on the wall. Not to the fridge, since he's got no need to chill his beverages anymore, but to the rack where he picks out a particularly good year from his own vineyard and moves to the kitchen to get a corkscrew.
"Nick?"
He turns to her suddenly, the instincts of centuries making the movement one of a dangerous animal more than a man.
She backs up, one hand to her breast, but her eyes are hard. She doesn't appreciate when he gets like this, unreasonable and defensive. If he was going to be defensive to anyone, it shouldn't be her.
"Nick, you can't just run away from this. You told him that--"
And he turns to her.
"I told him...that I would give him space. But, to be honest...I need some space as well. This true transition to mortality is...somewhat more disturbing than I'd thought."
She winces, since that had been the very reason he'd spoken to her twice; her ability to perhaps help him regain his mortality. That it had been so simple, that it had been granted by another, grated at her.
"I guess I can understand, yes. I mean, it's a big change, isn't it?"
"You have no idea how big."
This was another thing that she hated: when he acted like no one could understand. Even if he was right, it didn't help matters that he'd close up and mostly ignore everything she said because of it.
"Nick, I--"
"Didn't this stop being your business some time ago, Nat?" he says suddenly. Nasty. His blue eyes focus on her, his lip curling into an aristocratic sneer as he turns away from her. "When you handed me back that ring, perhaps?"
And that's a low blow, one she thought him unworthy of before he'd said it. But perhaps she was being unfair. Right now, he was as much a wounded animal as a man.
"Nick, stop, all right? Attacking me won't help things."
There's a pause as he pours the wine.
"I don't think there's anything that will help matters."
She sighs then, because there's a part of her that's even more aggravated with Alex than with Nick. She'd warned him. She'd warned him what being with Nick entailed, the sort of stresses and pressures and Alex had basically told her to get lost. She might even be a little haughty about it except that her friend was hurting.
She walks towards him then, putting her hand on his shouler. It's a mark of progress that he doesn't shrug her off.
"Nick? Nick...running away isn't going to help matters. And giving up someplace that made you happy, where you felt safe...giving up your friends on top of your--"
And she can't say it. He shakes his head, though, and stands, pushing her hand aside.
"I'm not running," he says finally as he stares at the fireplace. Of all the things he'd insisted upon, he'd been most vehement about the fireplace. It wasn't the one from his past, the great wooden dragon, but it was a fireplace. "I just..."
He looks to Natalie.
"I was told once that the bar serves a purpose and that no one stayed there forever. I ignored my life here, my real life in pursuit of that place and what it held for me. I had to come back and now just seemed... the right time."
He watches her for a moment, waiting for a reaction. Natalie, for her part, shakes her head and breathes out.
She doesn't know if she believes him, but she has a feeling pushing things more won't get her anywhere.
"All right, Nick. I'll...see you next shift, all right?"
He nods to her, his eyes on the flames again.
"Good day, Nick."
"Good day, Nat."
And she leaves.
He should have known she'd show up. He should have known she would come after him. Natalie was, if anything, a good and loyal friend.
"He wanted space."
She growls, as she knows where this is going.
"And that's why you left, huh? That's the only reason?"
He doesn't answer a moment, moving from the piano (where she'd found him) to the wine rack on the wall. Not to the fridge, since he's got no need to chill his beverages anymore, but to the rack where he picks out a particularly good year from his own vineyard and moves to the kitchen to get a corkscrew.
"Nick?"
He turns to her suddenly, the instincts of centuries making the movement one of a dangerous animal more than a man.
She backs up, one hand to her breast, but her eyes are hard. She doesn't appreciate when he gets like this, unreasonable and defensive. If he was going to be defensive to anyone, it shouldn't be her.
"Nick, you can't just run away from this. You told him that--"
And he turns to her.
"I told him...that I would give him space. But, to be honest...I need some space as well. This true transition to mortality is...somewhat more disturbing than I'd thought."
She winces, since that had been the very reason he'd spoken to her twice; her ability to perhaps help him regain his mortality. That it had been so simple, that it had been granted by another, grated at her.
"I guess I can understand, yes. I mean, it's a big change, isn't it?"
"You have no idea how big."
This was another thing that she hated: when he acted like no one could understand. Even if he was right, it didn't help matters that he'd close up and mostly ignore everything she said because of it.
"Nick, I--"
"Didn't this stop being your business some time ago, Nat?" he says suddenly. Nasty. His blue eyes focus on her, his lip curling into an aristocratic sneer as he turns away from her. "When you handed me back that ring, perhaps?"
And that's a low blow, one she thought him unworthy of before he'd said it. But perhaps she was being unfair. Right now, he was as much a wounded animal as a man.
"Nick, stop, all right? Attacking me won't help things."
There's a pause as he pours the wine.
"I don't think there's anything that will help matters."
She sighs then, because there's a part of her that's even more aggravated with Alex than with Nick. She'd warned him. She'd warned him what being with Nick entailed, the sort of stresses and pressures and Alex had basically told her to get lost. She might even be a little haughty about it except that her friend was hurting.
She walks towards him then, putting her hand on his shouler. It's a mark of progress that he doesn't shrug her off.
"Nick? Nick...running away isn't going to help matters. And giving up someplace that made you happy, where you felt safe...giving up your friends on top of your--"
And she can't say it. He shakes his head, though, and stands, pushing her hand aside.
"I'm not running," he says finally as he stares at the fireplace. Of all the things he'd insisted upon, he'd been most vehement about the fireplace. It wasn't the one from his past, the great wooden dragon, but it was a fireplace. "I just..."
He looks to Natalie.
"I was told once that the bar serves a purpose and that no one stayed there forever. I ignored my life here, my real life in pursuit of that place and what it held for me. I had to come back and now just seemed... the right time."
He watches her for a moment, waiting for a reaction. Natalie, for her part, shakes her head and breathes out.
She doesn't know if she believes him, but she has a feeling pushing things more won't get her anywhere.
"All right, Nick. I'll...see you next shift, all right?"
He nods to her, his eyes on the flames again.
"Good day, Nick."
"Good day, Nat."
And she leaves.