[ It catches her off guard. She doesn't expect people to care about her. She expects men to want her, they always do. The way you put a special ornament on the shelf. She expects other women to not pay much attention to another woman on the circuit. She expects Templars to be proud of their weapon, and Assassin's to want her dead.
She doesn't expect Jacob Frye to care about her. To want to more than what is best for him and his own. Angel would be as naive as Jack accused her of being if she really didn't know what he probably thought of her until this moment. ]
Oh -
[ Paused, it's different to when he'd crept out of the shadows, or Jack's voice startling her - her eyes are wide, and in the dim light, her too white skin goes steadily pink.
Gallant, she thinks again and realises she is being silly, as the smile spreads on her face - until it's suddenly blindingly earnest. ]
[ Jacob would love to believe her. He'd love to have enough faith to believe that if that man hurt her, she would fight back, that she would defend herself with every skill and breath she had. But he's seen the way she cowered in his presence, shrunk away from his touch. She'd let that man kill her before she did anything to stop him, Jacob is sure of that.
He's sure too that telling her that his father was a bastard won't help. For a start, he doesn't seem as bad as hers, by a long way. It won't help, it will just add insult to injury.
No, best not. ]
Alright. The offer is there. Always.
[ And with that, he touches the brim of the top hat, and leaves via the thick undergrowth, mulling over the strange revelations of the evening.]
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She doesn't expect Jacob Frye to care about her. To want to more than what is best for him and his own. Angel would be as naive as Jack accused her of being if she really didn't know what he probably thought of her until this moment. ]
Oh -
[ Paused, it's different to when he'd crept out of the shadows, or Jack's voice startling her - her eyes are wide, and in the dim light, her too white skin goes steadily pink.
Gallant, she thinks again and realises she is being silly, as the smile spreads on her face - until it's suddenly blindingly earnest. ]
Thank-you. I'll be fine, I promise.
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He's sure too that telling her that his father was a bastard won't help. For a start, he doesn't seem as bad as hers, by a long way. It won't help, it will just add insult to injury.
No, best not. ]
Alright. The offer is there. Always.
[ And with that, he touches the brim of the top hat, and leaves via the thick undergrowth, mulling over the strange revelations of the evening.]