Re: second floor ; smoking
Here was a topic he could speak on earnestly, with conviction, as the lines between the assassin he was now and the being he was beyond the confines of the ship were less defined, more blurred. "I believe there is," he said. "I believe everyone has potential. There is the surface, and there is that which lies beneath. Some keep it buried and refuse to unearth it, others do not. But it's there." That was his opinion, at least. It was one forged over time, and he had his doubts, but if there was one thing he refused to lose it was his faith, for without it he was fighting for nothing. "Ah, you believe ignorance is bliss, as they say?" He could understand wishing to find happiness in lies, but that was not the path he chose. The truth was difficult. The truth carved scars into his skin and weighed him down. But, at least, he lived his life in clarity, never willfully blind. "Is it true happiness, though, if it is based upon lies?"
He inclined his head with a small smile. "I am better at listening than I am speaking beyond this place, but here or there, I keep secrets well." There were few he confided in, and fewer still that he would consider betraying one's confidence to. Only in the most dire of circumstances, usually. "Confessions free of us the weight a secret carries," he said. "It can be a relief, to lighten our load, yet some of us become too accustomed to carrying it to part with it easily." The assassin had grown familiar with his own burden to bear, and freedom always came with a price.
"I do not," he said, after a moment's thought to untangle his thoughts. "She does. She believes my duty comes first, and she comes after. In her eyes, I expect her to wait." It wasn't quite right, the way he was wording it, but the meaning behind the words was true enough. "My burdens are not easily shared, and I believe that yes, it must be a competition, in her eyes." Perhaps it was unfair to her, this mystery woman, but he believed it to be true.
Being well versed in kisses were part of his facade, but he was no inexperienced schoolboy. He covered her hand with his, an unthinking gesture, as though he could somehow transfer his warmth to her, and he savored it in the way of those who wished to remember did, a memory imprinted upon his lips and his mind. There was a hint of sadness in his expression as the assassin looked at her, though he tried, for her sake, to smile. "I will bring whatever you wish, bella."