[ it's not an easy thing to explain. it's not even an easy thing for daisy to explain to herself, let alone to someone else, someone whose opinion has come to mean a great deal to her over the past several months.
but she wants to try. for strange, she will give him that much. ]
I have a life here. A normal life, somehow. I have an apartment, I have a job, I have... [ a pause, a hand sweeping across her eyes, fingertips pressing against the lids as if to ward off whatever moisture might be threatening to pool ] I've never had any of that before, you know?
[ he doesn't know. how could he? for all that their goals might align — saving the world that the avengers called home from destruction, for one — they've yet to meet outside this place. she doesn't know if they ever will. ]
I'll never get this kind of chance again. I can't just throw it away.
[ She explains, and he hears her. There is a life she's created for herself here. It may not be bigger than the one she left behind, but it's grounded. It has reality. Some measure of normality. The world they inhabit now may not be a good one but that's nothing new to either of them: the world, when peopled, cannot be inherently good.
Her life within it is wholly her own. Just as the choice is.
Finally, he nods his head. ]
Okay.
[ It feels like the sort of thing he should follow up with a token or a warning. You'll be missed or Just be careful. But he may never know her in the first of their shared worlds, and they don't have any idea whether either of them will ever have the option to choose.
Instead he turns away for long enough to reach over the bar and pull out a bottle of wine, two glasses. He doesn't know her drink of choice, but he does know that this stuff is worth drinking. Crossing with them to the table, he pulls the stopper from the bottle and pours them both out a measure. ]
Let's drink to it.
[ To her happiness now. To crafting a life worth giving up everything for. And to washing away the rest of it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but she wants to try. for strange, she will give him that much. ]
I have a life here. A normal life, somehow. I have an apartment, I have a job, I have... [ a pause, a hand sweeping across her eyes, fingertips pressing against the lids as if to ward off whatever moisture might be threatening to pool ] I've never had any of that before, you know?
[ he doesn't know. how could he? for all that their goals might align — saving the world that the avengers called home from destruction, for one — they've yet to meet outside this place. she doesn't know if they ever will. ]
I'll never get this kind of chance again. I can't just throw it away.
no subject
Her life within it is wholly her own. Just as the choice is.
Finally, he nods his head. ]
Okay.
[ It feels like the sort of thing he should follow up with a token or a warning. You'll be missed or Just be careful. But he may never know her in the first of their shared worlds, and they don't have any idea whether either of them will ever have the option to choose.
Instead he turns away for long enough to reach over the bar and pull out a bottle of wine, two glasses. He doesn't know her drink of choice, but he does know that this stuff is worth drinking. Crossing with them to the table, he pulls the stopper from the bottle and pours them both out a measure. ]
Let's drink to it.
[ To her happiness now. To crafting a life worth giving up everything for. And to washing away the rest of it. ]