But I do, some part of her screamed. I want so desperately to be just a girl again. But the parts of her that had been turned to steel and given sharpened edges were much, much bigger and louder than that one. She knows it isn't possible to turn back the clock in such a way that her innocence has not be stolen from her, and she thinks that would be the only way to find her way to simply being. Some things are not possible to change, and Inej has become increasingly more and more used to that over the last three years.
She listens and he's still just so Saintsforsaken genuine that it hurts. Ketterdam was not made of people like Sam, and in her time there, she'd perhaps nearly forgotten that they existed.
And then something in the air shifts. Even before he turns his attention– and his body– completely toward her. Before he speaks a second time. It's heavy, and it's electric and it snaps her attention fully to the man she'd felt safe enough to visit in such an unconventional way.
The tiniest of frowns skates across her features. She doesn't even have time to form the words to ask him how he means for her to help before he continues, words increasingly more impassioned.
Something inside of her screams this is it. What 'it' is exactly, she isn't sure, but she knows she has to greet it, this feeling so full of something light enough she might be able to fly in the weightlessness of it. She just has to step off the edge first.
"How soon do you think the war might be brought to us?" Because she doesn't doubt that prediction at all. She may be young, but her world was often strife with war and she's seen the effects of it all too easily. "Who is Goro...? Did that happen before I got to Cadens?" Saints, she hopes so, because she won't particularly know how to feel to think she'd missed something so huge while she was adjusting to the city.
It's in the moment that he takes to calm himself that Inej has already made her choice. Decision made. But as he continues, she feels that decision cementing in the center of her. So, when the question comes once more, she smiles. Not the smile that belongs to Inej, the girl, bright and full of sunshine. No. This is the smile that belongs to Inej, The Wraith, sharp-edged and certain. "Yes," she nods, as if to accent the word. "I can absolutely help you with that." It's the very thing she's the best at in life now.
Sam still isn't sure exactly how he feels about all of this - not because it's asking for help, exactly, though he knows there is some small part of him that doesn't exactly love the fact it's becoming big enough he needs help - but it's the fact it's Inej. Inej, who he barely know anything about, but doesn't need to know much to understand how hard her life has asked her to be. Inej, who is still a kid, who is on his window sill right now asking for help.
Again, Sam finds himself thinking about Natasha. Missing Natasha.
Sam barely gets the words out before Inej shifts, and he knows that they've officially crossed this line. That even if he said nevermind, I don't want to do this, that it's too late. So Sam sighs, runs a hand along the back of his neck.
"It's too hard to tell. For a while there, I thought it was right around the corner. Now things feel like they've slowed down. It could be next month, it could be in a year, but we're headed down that road."
She asks about Goro, asks about the rally, and Sam is about to tell her not to worry about it because it's fine, it's happened and it's passed them by and it can be dealt with later, and that is when Inej smiles. But it's also not Inej, but something else. Someone else. Someone a lot closer to Nat. Yes she says, and Sam feels himself still a little. Watch her. I can absolutely help you with that.
Worry curls around his chest and tightens. She's just a kid.
"I'm serious, you know. About just watching and listening." Because this is important for him, important for her to understand. "And not getting involved. I don't want anything happening to you."
She nods at that answer. These things get muddied and hard to parse as each side of the line tries to blur their plans. That was the way of war, until the first strike was waged.
"They won't know I'm listening, I promise." Which is not the same as promising not to get involved or not be reckless. Inej may often be one of the more level-headed of her core group of people back home, but she is still just as prone as anyone to jump into a fray if it's needed.
"But I will not make you promises I could break, Sam. I cannot promise I will never get involved. Circumstance can change everything." If someone were in trouble, if action was needed and there was anything she could do to help, she would. Perhaps, even if he cannot appreciate the idea of her acting rashly, he can at least appreciate her honesty about it.
"For some reason, that doesn't actually make me feel any better." Mostly because he knows it is not the same, it is not a promise in the way Sam was looking for one, but he gives a small smile all the same.
Inej continues, and Sam lets out a breath. "I know." Because it's true - he does know her well enough to know that if something happened, really happened, he wouldn't be able to stop her from getting involved. He doesn't need to know her all that well to know that's the case. "But I had to try."
She laughs softly, "I am afraid that is the best offer I can hand you." At least Sam can trust her to be honest and upfront. She would need a very good reason to keep something from this man that she has come to trust– no easy feat, so he should be glad it happened so quickly.
He is glad, because whether or not he knows Inej well enough to know exactly what trust means to Inej, especially when given this quickly, he has a feeling that this is something pretty important.
Which means he'll take what he can get, and her best offer is most likely going to be the best offer.
"I'll take it, and hope your survival instinct will fill in the rest."
Sam offers a smile, after, if only because does trust her. He hopes that's clear enough, but it doesn't mean he won't worry.
Sam’s reaction + Inej yeets out the window again to end?
Sam is committing to a balancing act here, where he’s needing to be just far enough on the ‘adult’ aside of the line to have authority in the situation, and far enough away from it that it doesn’t land him with her hackles up, back against the wall, and ready to disappear or strike either one.
Somehow, he’s doing it. He’s hit that strangely perfect mix of older and protective with a genuine demeanor that can’t be ignored. Despite how little he knows her, he cares, and she see it etched across the concern in his eyes, the small smile he hands her in effort to prove his trustability.
It works.
That smile of his earns him one of her own and she swings her legs over the edge of the sill, pushing herself into the room and going to sit next to him. She makes sure she’s making eye contact with him before she says, “Thank you,” the words are reverent and ring through the room like a heavy token laid at his feet— there is a gravity to the idea of her saying so at all. “…I won’t forget the chance you took, are taking, on me.”
The moment that he catches the smile she gives him in return, there is definitely a feeling of relief. That she understands what it is he's trying to do, that she knows the place he's trying to inhabit. Because she is just a kid, whether or not she's had to grow up quickly, and she deserves to have some level of feeling like she's being looked after.
Thank you she says, once she's sat down next to him. Once she has his eyes. And Sam...nods, once, at it. Because for all that he might want to push back on that, how much he might want to say it's not that it's a chance, I do believe you, but instead of any of that Sam just. Smiles at her and nods, because a part of him does understand that reverence. How important it is.
( Not the first time, he pictures Natasha. The quiet reverence of her voice. )
"I believe it will." She nods a little. "Time will tell." If she's good at nothing else, Inej- and more so still The Wraith– is very good at patience.
This... feels like the right note to end their conversation on. She gets back to her feet, a hand sweeping across herself in what's obviously a religious sign. "Saints be with you, Sam Wilson."
Without giving him a chance to ask anything further, she gives him a slight nod. And she could go out the door. It would be the normal thing to do. But normal left Inej years ago. She slips out the way she came in– through the window, and up to the roof, where she feels the most natural anyway.
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She listens and he's still just so Saintsforsaken genuine that it hurts. Ketterdam was not made of people like Sam, and in her time there, she'd perhaps nearly forgotten that they existed.
And then something in the air shifts. Even before he turns his attention– and his body– completely toward her. Before he speaks a second time. It's heavy, and it's electric and it snaps her attention fully to the man she'd felt safe enough to visit in such an unconventional way.
The tiniest of frowns skates across her features. She doesn't even have time to form the words to ask him how he means for her to help before he continues, words increasingly more impassioned.
Something inside of her screams this is it. What 'it' is exactly, she isn't sure, but she knows she has to greet it, this feeling so full of something light enough she might be able to fly in the weightlessness of it. She just has to step off the edge first.
"How soon do you think the war might be brought to us?" Because she doesn't doubt that prediction at all. She may be young, but her world was often strife with war and she's seen the effects of it all too easily. "Who is Goro...? Did that happen before I got to Cadens?" Saints, she hopes so, because she won't particularly know how to feel to think she'd missed something so huge while she was adjusting to the city.
It's in the moment that he takes to calm himself that Inej has already made her choice. Decision made. But as he continues, she feels that decision cementing in the center of her. So, when the question comes once more, she smiles. Not the smile that belongs to Inej, the girl, bright and full of sunshine. No. This is the smile that belongs to Inej, The Wraith, sharp-edged and certain. "Yes," she nods, as if to accent the word. "I can absolutely help you with that." It's the very thing she's the best at in life now.
no subject
Again, Sam finds himself thinking about Natasha. Missing Natasha.
Sam barely gets the words out before Inej shifts, and he knows that they've officially crossed this line. That even if he said nevermind, I don't want to do this, that it's too late. So Sam sighs, runs a hand along the back of his neck.
"It's too hard to tell. For a while there, I thought it was right around the corner. Now things feel like they've slowed down. It could be next month, it could be in a year, but we're headed down that road."
She asks about Goro, asks about the rally, and Sam is about to tell her not to worry about it because it's fine, it's happened and it's passed them by and it can be dealt with later, and that is when Inej smiles. But it's also not Inej, but something else. Someone else. Someone a lot closer to Nat. Yes she says, and Sam feels himself still a little. Watch her. I can absolutely help you with that.
Worry curls around his chest and tightens. She's just a kid.
"I'm serious, you know. About just watching and listening." Because this is important for him, important for her to understand. "And not getting involved. I don't want anything happening to you."
no subject
"They won't know I'm listening, I promise." Which is not the same as promising not to get involved or not be reckless. Inej may often be one of the more level-headed of her core group of people back home, but she is still just as prone as anyone to jump into a fray if it's needed.
"But I will not make you promises I could break, Sam. I cannot promise I will never get involved. Circumstance can change everything." If someone were in trouble, if action was needed and there was anything she could do to help, she would. Perhaps, even if he cannot appreciate the idea of her acting rashly, he can at least appreciate her honesty about it.
no subject
Inej continues, and Sam lets out a breath. "I know." Because it's true - he does know her well enough to know that if something happened, really happened, he wouldn't be able to stop her from getting involved. He doesn't need to know her all that well to know that's the case. "But I had to try."
no subject
wrapping here or next tag or two, maybe?
Which means he'll take what he can get, and her best offer is most likely going to be the best offer.
"I'll take it, and hope your survival instinct will fill in the rest."
Sam offers a smile, after, if only because does trust her. He hopes that's clear enough, but it doesn't mean he won't worry.
Sam’s reaction + Inej yeets out the window again to end?
Somehow, he’s doing it. He’s hit that strangely perfect mix of older and protective with a genuine demeanor that can’t be ignored. Despite how little he knows her, he cares, and she see it etched across the concern in his eyes, the small smile he hands her in effort to prove his trustability.
It works.
That smile of his earns him one of her own and she swings her legs over the edge of the sill, pushing herself into the room and going to sit next to him. She makes sure she’s making eye contact with him before she says, “Thank you,” the words are reverent and ring through the room like a heavy token laid at his feet— there is a gravity to the idea of her saying so at all. “…I won’t forget the chance you took, are taking, on me.”
sounds good!
Thank you she says, once she's sat down next to him. Once she has his eyes. And Sam...nods, once, at it. Because for all that he might want to push back on that, how much he might want to say it's not that it's a chance, I do believe you, but instead of any of that Sam just. Smiles at her and nods, because a part of him does understand that reverence. How important it is.
( Not the first time, he pictures Natasha. The quiet reverence of her voice. )
"I hope it helps."
no subject
This... feels like the right note to end their conversation on. She gets back to her feet, a hand sweeping across herself in what's obviously a religious sign. "Saints be with you, Sam Wilson."
Without giving him a chance to ask anything further, she gives him a slight nod. And she could go out the door. It would be the normal thing to do. But normal left Inej years ago. She slips out the way she came in– through the window, and up to the roof, where she feels the most natural anyway.