The touch is reassuring, and she manages a grateful, if terse, little smile, leaning into the touch, and nodding as he looks down. Martin sort of gives off insecurity along with caring, and it's easy to believe he's thought of himself as the problem before. Blue likes to think of herself as someone who projects confidence, or at least stubbornness if she can't have the former, but when it comes to this she's had her determination hacked at a little too often.
She looks up as he goes on, brow furrowing. Kat had maybe mentioned Martin worrying her, but she's never heard the story from Martin's point of view, and she finds herself swallowing against a lump in her throat from Kat saved me onward, her eyes fixed.
It's a mix: fierce pride in Kat for being both kind and persuasive enough to pull Martin back from the darkness; a deep painful dislike that either Martin or Kat have hurt like that even if it's not currently the case; shame at thinking so much about her own grief when Kat's been through so much; maybe a million other things. She takes it in, nodding.
"She probably wouldn't," Blue admits with a soft laugh at her own expense, and she ruffles her hair, still curly from the sea fog of last night. "She is good, and she's so strong, and she's survived -- so much. And she'd hate it." She can't help smirking. "I mean, I don't even know if she -- what she wants, but she'd hate me making decisions because I thought I knew what was best for her."
She takes a breath. "It's just hard to tell myself nothing's going to happen to her. And if something did--" She lets out a breath. Blue doesn't handle grief sensibly: she nearly fell off a fucking fire escape, that night Tris and Biffy and Lyall and Beth all disappeared at once, and she set Party Poison's car on fire when he and Jack disappeared. But through that, through losing them, Olive and Eduardo, Krem, even Gansey, Kat has always been there with hugs and food and sometimes alcohol, there for Blue's anger and tears. Happily around for weird wishes that turn their apartment into an actual rainforest and totally benign shopping trips that become hilarious because they're them and increasing numbers of other people's animals. It's hard to imagine what life would even be like without her.
no subject
She looks up as he goes on, brow furrowing. Kat had maybe mentioned Martin worrying her, but she's never heard the story from Martin's point of view, and she finds herself swallowing against a lump in her throat from Kat saved me onward, her eyes fixed.
It's a mix: fierce pride in Kat for being both kind and persuasive enough to pull Martin back from the darkness; a deep painful dislike that either Martin or Kat have hurt like that even if it's not currently the case; shame at thinking so much about her own grief when Kat's been through so much; maybe a million other things. She takes it in, nodding.
"She probably wouldn't," Blue admits with a soft laugh at her own expense, and she ruffles her hair, still curly from the sea fog of last night. "She is good, and she's so strong, and she's survived -- so much. And she'd hate it." She can't help smirking. "I mean, I don't even know if she -- what she wants, but she'd hate me making decisions because I thought I knew what was best for her."
She takes a breath. "It's just hard to tell myself nothing's going to happen to her. And if something did--" She lets out a breath. Blue doesn't handle grief sensibly: she nearly fell off a fucking fire escape, that night Tris and Biffy and Lyall and Beth all disappeared at once, and she set Party Poison's car on fire when he and Jack disappeared. But through that, through losing them, Olive and Eduardo, Krem, even Gansey, Kat has always been there with hugs and food and sometimes alcohol, there for Blue's anger and tears. Happily around for weird wishes that turn their apartment into an actual rainforest and totally benign shopping trips that become hilarious because they're them and increasing numbers of other people's animals. It's hard to imagine what life would even be like without her.