with_discipline | 020

Entry tags:

020 | [Voice]

[Private to Snape]

I believe we should talk. Will you meet me in the library?

[Private to Malcolm]

Captain Kirk has organized a snowball fight tonight, and has asked that I invite you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Are you going?

I am still considering it.

If you have something to say, you may come here.

Very well.

[It isn't very long at all before she's knocking at his door. Not quite as fast as it could have been, mostly because this is kind of awkward and she's not the greatest talker.]

Enter.

[He's sitting in a chair that he's moved to face the door, one hand twirling his wand, and the other loosely holding the note Lily left him. He obviously hasn't been sleeping.]

[T'Pol stepped inside and closed the door, catching her hands behind her. She scanned for another chair, but made no move to sit.]

May I ask what that is? [She nodded toward the note, making an effort to speak gently. Or at least not sound accusatory.]

[He doesn't look at the note. In fact, his eyes are locked on hers; he's not trying to read her, however. Not yet.]

Tell me, T'Pol. What do you think it is?

[His tone is accusatory, but his expression remains impassive.]

I presume something Mrs. Potter left for you. [She arched an eyebrow; but she had no intention to press its contents and moved on.] I also presume you've seen the discussion I had with her.

[The letter is unopened; he has no more idea of the contents than she.]

Do you.

[The hand twirling his wand is suddenly still. He isn't pointing it at her, but he holds it tightly by the handle, the gesture betraying more emotion than his expression.]

[Bad feelings are illogical, emotional, and meant to be mastered. She's trying to remind herself of that. Shifting slightly, T'Pol cocked her head to the side.] She offered some advice.

[He is on his feet before she can finish the sentence; both hands are clenched around the objects they hold, and his eyes narrow dangerously. His words are clipped with barely restrained anger, and his voice begins low, but slowly raises in volume.]

She has been dead for sixteen years. Do tell what advice a dead woman gave you.

[One eyebrow climbs steadily at the abruptness of his movement, and for a moment, T'Pol is silent. She's steeling herself, really, squaring her shoulders before speaking.]

She believed that you needed someone to talk to.

[The knuckles of the hand gripping his wand are turning white.]

And you think that person is you, do you? Perhaps I'll turn myself inside out and bare my soul to you so we can logically examine how I feel?

[He sneers, but there's no humor in it.]

If you will talk to someone else, I will not argue it. I am, admittedly, perhaps not the one best suited to the task. But logic would dictate that her advice be followed. [Logic also tells her to wait to talk about the sleep potions. At least until he isn't so high strung.]

[Her lack of emotion is infuriating to him; it's clear she doesn't understand that the problem here isn't that he needs someone with whom he can talk. It's also clear to him that she has no empathy.]

[More infuriating is the fact that he wants empathy. He snarls his next words at her.]

I don't need to talk! What I needed was to see her! [He punctuates his sentence by throwing the crumpled, unread letter at her.]

[T'Pol doesn't even blink. She shifts her head so that the note doesn't hit her face, and falls silent for a moment to look at him.]

Seeing her may have been the crueler option.

The alternative was to remove me without consulting me, without so much as a by-your-leave, only to have me return to find a letter?

You have no concept of cruelty!

[He advances on her, his now-empty hand out. Instead of reaching for her, however, he reaches past her and opens the door.]

Get out.

[She doesn't bat an eyelash at the advance, but she makes no move to leave, either. She just keeps her silence for a moment.]

I know that it is too much to ask that you trust me, Severus, but you are not the only one to be hurt by this flood.

[Turning, she stepped away, standing in the doorway.] If you will not talk to me, I will accept that. But I would like you to talk to someone. I understand how difficult that may be, but I believe it will help you. [Glancing toward the crumpled note on the floor, she arches an eyebrow.] And though it is your prerogative, perhaps you should see what she had to say, rather than ridding yourself of it.

Edited 2009-12-07 22:10 (UTC)

[He doesn't respond; he simply glares at her, waiting for her to leave.]

We will speak again at a later date. [She waits a moment longer before turning, walking away down the hall, toward the stairs.]

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020 | [Voice]

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