"Some people like to overshare to a wide audience. As long as you're sensible about what you're broadcasting to the whole station, you'll get along just fine," he assured her, although of course the odd gossip or rumour still managed to make its rounds. That was the same within any group, though. When she asked about genie magic, her wording made him cringe a little. "Yeah, be really, really careful with the 'wish' word around here," he told her quite seriously. "I'm talking unplanned pregnancy, long term gender swapping..." he couldn't think of any other examples at that exact moment, but he knew that it rarely had a positive outcome.
He laughed at her suggestion that he basically went to college, and really he had to agree. It was just that journalism had been all about apprenticeships and learning on the job in his day, but he'd still found a way to have a little reckless youth about it all. "I was a master at the carefully worded 'letter home'," he admitted, with a devilish smile. "Putting my newfound journalistic skills to good use, you know?" he laughed lightly.
"Yeah, ain't that the truth," he murmured. "We go through our ups and downs, writing and me. This is a rough patch, and the bitch doesn't even have the decency to answer back if I pick a fight about it," he explained, with a wry smile. Isabel had dismissed his concerns, Kat seemed to think he was just being stubborn , and Charlie hadn't said a word. It was a risky confession; he often felt like writing was the only good thing about him.
"It's damn hard to admit when you're wrong. Damages your pride a little. I think I've gotten better at it the older I've got, but I do have to respect the person enough first I think. If I've been an asshole to someone who was also being an asshole? It's much more difficult to back down again, isn't it?"
He gave her an enthusiastic nod, like she was really getting close to the truth of the place now. "Oh, there's a lot more to it. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised, given time," he told her, and for a moment he actually did believe his own words.
The hand on his arm was wonderfully reassuring, although it all did make him feel exposed and vulnerable, like he wanted to do something macho to balance it all out. He gave her a half-hearted smile, lapping up every big of her speech for him. She was kind and understanding without being soft on him or giving him an excuse. There was empathy in her tone rather than pity, and for that he was very grateful.
"It's been over 20 years. I know that Hadley forgave me eventually, and she was never the sort of person to lie about something like that. Hell of a lot harder to forgive myself, though," he admitted. "And wouldn't you know it, not a single one of those friends actually stuck around, they just moved onto the next bright young thing," he said. He seemed to remember something, and smiled despite the depressing topic at hand. "Except your man Scott. He was the only one who tried to talk some sense into me, ask me what the hell I was doing, told me to put a stop to it. Still stuck around even though I didn't listen, and didn't even once say 'I told you so', which must've taken incredible restraint," he told her, glad to have found something hopeful in it all.
How did he do that? There was a question indeed.
"I wouldn't be so open with just anybody," he told her carefully. "But I feel like... you might understand, or at least try to. And even if you didn't, you wouldn't hold it against me," he told her, picking his words with care. "I mean, even the wording of your question showed openness and willingness. It wasn't pre-loaded with what you expected the answer to be. Hell, I could be way off, but... you are very easy to talk to, is all," he tried to explain. He had to try to put himself back in the mindset of the man who had just met her, and he seemed to recall one of their earliest dates taking a very similar direction in conversation.
"Yeah, I guess so," he replied, although he wasn't sure of that. He hadn't wanted to start over from the beginning with her, but if it was how it had to be, then so be it. "I'm a rotten date. All talk and no coffee," he told her with a wink, taking the opportunity to grab their cups to take them up for a refill.