Fade Rift IC: Inbox

[dreadinquisitor]

Notes, crystals, or other bits of interest.

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[dreadinquisitor]

"Admittedly, it gets more confusing after that," he said softly, blinking as he replayed the conversation over in his mind again (as if he'd stopped). He rubbed the back of his wrist against his cheek as he rolled up off his knees and onto his heels, rising from the bed to approach the bench. "But I think - I'm certain, he regrets what happened. And that he's deeply sorry that he hurt you."

[mythalenaste]

"He is." She swallows. "He thinks he can punish himself into being a better person because he doesn't know how to just...make better choices. He could probably use your help there, if...that's what you want...to do?"

She peers up at him.

[dreadinquisitor]

Maxwell paused, caught momentarily off guard by the question - namely because it came from her.

"I--" he blinked again, and his head tipped. "I'm not sure he wants anything from me, at the moment, but I will always be here for him, if he needs me."

[mythalenaste]

Okay, okay. They seem to be friends. Pretty good friends, maybe.

"That's good." Light touch, light touch. No meddling, this isn't really her affair. "Did you meet recently?"

[dreadinquisitor]

He shook his head, not surprised that Gavin's clan didn't know about him. Lest of all her, likely being the reason they'd met at all.

"It was several years ago. At the annual Tourney in the Free Marches."

[mythalenaste]

She nods faintly.

"Good." She's done here, really. This is all she needed to establish.

"I've work to do. Thank you for your time." She pushes to her feet.

[dreadinquisitor]

His eyebrows twitched, veeing slightly in surprise, but after a beat he merely ducked his head.

"Of course," he replied. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."