John listens attentively, but not with the same intense focus as he would a Statement. He watches without staring, and hums occasionally in understanding or acknowledgment. He tries to make it easier, more pleasant. Worth the effort.
He relates to more of it than he expects to, really. The hours spent in the library, finding comfort in the company of books as opposed to people. The all but inevitable bullying. Granted, it sounds as if Martin's bully was more clumsy and awkward than actively malicious. Part of him does wonder, though, if Martin's retroactive assessment is accurate, or if he's just more inclined to be generous now that time has softened it all. How much does his bully's motivation really matter when all he'd managed to do with it was make Martin frightened and miserable? Even the heroics had terrified him.
But at least the heroics were something. And he supposes his own memories are coloring his impressions. He had a childhood bully whose name he can't remember despite the fact that he'd saved him, too, but his bully had never meant well. His teasing had been cruel, not awkward. And the rescue had been far from intentional.
Martin's apology draws John out of his own head, and he blinks over at him in surprise. "It--it's all right." All that really matters to him is that the stories are true -- and that they're Martin's. And if some of them are downers, well... they're still rather light compared to his usual fare. Martin's ostensible bully just got expelled, not horribly murdered.
"I actually had something sort of similar, once," he continues, gazing off into the middle distance. "Well, not really. I'm certain my bully didn't mean well. But he... he did save me. And I can't remember his name." His smile is a brief, humorless thing that fades into uncertainty as he looks back at Martin. "Did you ever hear that tape? My first Statement?"
Maybe he already has. Or maybe he wouldn't want to. Either way, John hesitates to just launch into a story of his own, especially if Martin would as soon avoid any downers.
no subject
He relates to more of it than he expects to, really. The hours spent in the library, finding comfort in the company of books as opposed to people. The all but inevitable bullying. Granted, it sounds as if Martin's bully was more clumsy and awkward than actively malicious. Part of him does wonder, though, if Martin's retroactive assessment is accurate, or if he's just more inclined to be generous now that time has softened it all. How much does his bully's motivation really matter when all he'd managed to do with it was make Martin frightened and miserable? Even the heroics had terrified him.
But at least the heroics were something. And he supposes his own memories are coloring his impressions. He had a childhood bully whose name he can't remember despite the fact that he'd saved him, too, but his bully had never meant well. His teasing had been cruel, not awkward. And the rescue had been far from intentional.
Martin's apology draws John out of his own head, and he blinks over at him in surprise. "It--it's all right." All that really matters to him is that the stories are true -- and that they're Martin's. And if some of them are downers, well... they're still rather light compared to his usual fare. Martin's ostensible bully just got expelled, not horribly murdered.
"I actually had something sort of similar, once," he continues, gazing off into the middle distance. "Well, not really. I'm certain my bully didn't mean well. But he... he did save me. And I can't remember his name." His smile is a brief, humorless thing that fades into uncertainty as he looks back at Martin. "Did you ever hear that tape? My first Statement?"
Maybe he already has. Or maybe he wouldn't want to. Either way, John hesitates to just launch into a story of his own, especially if Martin would as soon avoid any downers.