"Yeah, they're Chinese on our world. The kind where the more you yank like a jumping jackrabbit the tighter it gets, you have to go slow and steady to get it off." There's the quiet smack of his hairtie as he lowers his hands. "That the kind you're talking about?"
Eiffel isn't the most socially perceptive - when his instincts are good, they're amazing, but he's more often coasting on sheer earnest good will than understanding the nuances.
He just sighs, resting his arms on Jedao's shoulders again, leaning into it a little as he sags. "Yeah, I copy."
And immediately goes to drag a hand through his neatly tied hair, fizzing it almost immediately. "I dunno, he just... he cares so goddamn hard. I don't know if he knows how many people don't do that. Even the nice ones. And- not everyone's gonna agree with him!" He rears a little with the sentiment, spurred by the need to gesticulate. "I worked with four people and the amount of times I got everyone on board with one idea? I can't even count on one hand! What's he gonna do with fifty?!"
"No, Eiffel. His problem isn't that he doesn't know enough about how people don't care. His problem is that he is dead fucking sure that anyone who doesn't care the same way as him or where he can see it doesn't care at all. And anyone who objects to his - distorted view is just more proof of it. So he gets angrier and feels more isolated and gets worse at talking about it."
Scritch scritch scritch, goes the finger trap. Jedao takes another slow breath and lets his aggravation run out of him.
"And it's not his fault that he's hurting and scared and probably never had a reason to trust people before if they were't proving themselves very credibly trustworthy. But it is not a useful mindset for team-building. And anyone who points out that he's constantly re-traumatizing himself and needs a damn vacation before he can have this conversation in a productive way - in the way he wants it to be productive - is attacking him, because they only care about making him shut up, and not about solving the problem. And anyone who digs into the gritty details of what will and won't work to try and solve the problem is also attacking him, or making excuses, or focusing on the wrong thing entirely. And that's proof again that he's alone, that he'll always be alone, that people will always be against him, that there's no way to say it right, instead of admitting he's said it the same way every time. You can lead people who resent you, if you have the will and charisma for it. But you can't lead people that you resent."
Jedao takes one hand off Eiffel's face and drags it down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm not - I don't want to be mean. I just...I can see it, all the little knots he keeps tying himself in, and he's so raw from thrashing that I can't touch them without him screaming."
He's just - he's frustrated, but more than that he's so sad about it. It's an awful skullfucking trap, and he wants to get Neal out of it, and maybe somebody can, but that somebody is definitely not him.
"Hey-" He catches Jedao's face in both hands again. "-easy, slugger. We don't have to talk about it, if you're gonna start fingertrapping yourself. And I'm not gonna fight you 'cos you're upset about Neal being a nightmare right now. Okay?"
His hands coast down Jedao's jaw to his neck, resting his wrists on Jedao's collarbone. "He's got plenty of other people that can go worry about him. I already punched my ticket on this one. No shame in you needing to, too."
Jedao wants to bite something. Leather, or bone, something he can sink his teeth into and not let go. If he isn't letting people near him, then no the fuck he doesn't, he wants to snarl, but that's cruel and counterproductive.
"I just. Hate making things worse," he says finally. His eyes are closed against Eiffel's scrutiny, but he leans into the warm of his palms on Jedao's cheeks.
"Hey, if you wanna make things worse, help me find him when I know he's got grog on him," he comments with wry self-deprecation. "That'll go downhill so fast you'll hear the sonic boom."
His grip tightens on Jedao's face, just fractionally so he can lean up to kiss his forehead again, and follow that with a gentle one to his lips. "You tried. That's the most important part."
Jedao doesn't actually believe that. Trying matters, but results matter more. He does like being kissed, though, and he lets himself be comforted.
"I know it's not really about me," he says quietly. "I just...usually, I'm better at this, when I know to be careful." And feeling like he keeps getting it wrong also feels like he's in his first awful days again, clueless and manipulated, constantly saying the wrong thing, smiling the wrong way, making everyone flinch.
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Eiffel isn't the most socially perceptive - when his instincts are good, they're amazing, but he's more often coasting on sheer earnest good will than understanding the nuances.
But it's. It's happening right there.
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And immediately goes to drag a hand through his neatly tied hair, fizzing it almost immediately. "I dunno, he just... he cares so goddamn hard. I don't know if he knows how many people don't do that. Even the nice ones. And- not everyone's gonna agree with him!" He rears a little with the sentiment, spurred by the need to gesticulate. "I worked with four people and the amount of times I got everyone on board with one idea? I can't even count on one hand! What's he gonna do with fifty?!"
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"No, Eiffel. His problem isn't that he doesn't know enough about how people don't care. His problem is that he is dead fucking sure that anyone who doesn't care the same way as him or where he can see it doesn't care at all. And anyone who objects to his - distorted view is just more proof of it. So he gets angrier and feels more isolated and gets worse at talking about it."
Scritch scritch scritch, goes the finger trap. Jedao takes another slow breath and lets his aggravation run out of him.
"And it's not his fault that he's hurting and scared and probably never had a reason to trust people before if they were't proving themselves very credibly trustworthy. But it is not a useful mindset for team-building. And anyone who points out that he's constantly re-traumatizing himself and needs a damn vacation before he can have this conversation in a productive way - in the way he wants it to be productive - is attacking him, because they only care about making him shut up, and not about solving the problem. And anyone who digs into the gritty details of what will and won't work to try and solve the problem is also attacking him, or making excuses, or focusing on the wrong thing entirely. And that's proof again that he's alone, that he'll always be alone, that people will always be against him, that there's no way to say it right, instead of admitting he's said it the same way every time. You can lead people who resent you, if you have the will and charisma for it. But you can't lead people that you resent."
Jedao takes one hand off Eiffel's face and drags it down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm not - I don't want to be mean. I just...I can see it, all the little knots he keeps tying himself in, and he's so raw from thrashing that I can't touch them without him screaming."
He's just - he's frustrated, but more than that he's so sad about it. It's an awful skullfucking trap, and he wants to get Neal out of it, and maybe somebody can, but that somebody is definitely not him.
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His hands coast down Jedao's jaw to his neck, resting his wrists on Jedao's collarbone. "He's got plenty of other people that can go worry about him. I already punched my ticket on this one. No shame in you needing to, too."
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"I just. Hate making things worse," he says finally. His eyes are closed against Eiffel's scrutiny, but he leans into the warm of his palms on Jedao's cheeks.
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His grip tightens on Jedao's face, just fractionally so he can lean up to kiss his forehead again, and follow that with a gentle one to his lips. "You tried. That's the most important part."
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"I know it's not really about me," he says quietly. "I just...usually, I'm better at this, when I know to be careful." And feeling like he keeps getting it wrong also feels like he's in his first awful days again, clueless and manipulated, constantly saying the wrong thing, smiling the wrong way, making everyone flinch.