The irony is, Peter is a good commander. He just tried to be commander and father to Neal at the same time, which went about as well as could reasonably be expected.
Neal smiles, though the expression is... tired and sad and careworn.
"I wish we hadn't really met the way we did. I think we'd get along in different circumstances. I think we could still. You're... ferociously intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor, and I want to know how you broke into Malcolm's room when I designed the lock to replace the first one after he got his medications stolen. ...I mean, yeah, I could have broken in still, but I designed it."
There's a sting of irony in that last part. He quiets again. "I am sorry. I was so... I am still lost."
An admission that no one else has gotten, one that feels strange to offer now. But he trusts Jedao not to share it for some reason.
"I'm not who I was when I got here. I don't know who I'm supposed to be now. I need to go figure it out."
"Well, I cheated a bit," Jedao admits after a few moments. It makes a little rill of fear skitter up his ribs, but Neal has already seen his blood, so there's no point in pretending to be human. And it's something Jedao can give him, right now.
"That's one of the big security holes in the cabin system, that doors don't count as inside themselves for the cabin thresholds. You can kick in a door with super strength, or. If you're...telekinetic." Not a word native to his own situation, but Eiffel has called him an Exman enough for him to pick up the lingo. "You can just nudge the lock mechanism from the inside."
So. That's how.
"After - after the worst shit of my life. I was a political prisoner for two years. Gentle house arrest with lots of side interrogation, sort of thing. I was more restricted than here, but - all of the violence and chaos, there wasn't any of that. I knew what each day was going to be like, and...I could just breathe, for a while. I didn't have to make any giant decisions or deal with constant crisis or look after someone and put their issues before mine. I could just water my little onion plant and go to art therapy and play stupid video games and grade papers and then go to sleep. And when I started to scheme about maybe escaping, there was no deadline, no pressure. I could just figure things out at my own pace. It was maybe the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me."
Shuos-zho would hate being called kind out loud, but he doesn't have to know.
"I would have been a complete fucking mess of a warden if I hadn't got that time, which I know because one of those age floods took it away from me for awhile." And he'd been fucking deranged about almost everyone he met, way worse than Neal is.
"I want...that kind of time for you, to figure out who you want to be. The space to breathe instead of always getting hit with the next thing. I don't really believe in deserving as a good metric, most of the time. But I think you deserve that."
Ah. An interesting exploit, and one he's going to try and find a way around as soon as he possibly can. Maybe something as simple as wedge of some kind while inside, though that leaves things vulnerable when a person isn't home--
Right, focus.
It is... profoundly disorienting to hear that Jedao thinks he deserves anything. He's more than a little taken aback. He's also startled to realize somewhere during the description of how Jedao spent his days under house arrest, Neal started getting tense, like he was bracing himself for the scolding or condescension he was sure he'd have to ride his way through if he wanted to finish this conversation without a fight.
He clears his throat softly and looks away. "My life has been... the next thing and the next thing and the next thing for a long time. I don't know if it's ever been anything else, honestly. I don't know why it's so... different here."
"There's safety nets here. There's your warden who's hopefully got your back, and the death toll, and so on. It's not always gentle, but - the stakes go down a little, in some ways. But there's also....there's so much time in between the crises, and only so much work to fill it up with. If I hadn't learned how to sit with my own thoughts before I got here, I'd have cracked like an egg, I think. And graduating means you have to take some walls down, right? You stopped running flat out long enough to say hey, that was all fucked up, I didn't deserve that - and that makes it harder to shove everything back down and do it to yourself."
Jedao swallows, then shrugs.
"Maybe it's none of that, I'm just speculating. But even if you could force yourself to keep marching, like you had to before - you deserve rest anyway."
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no subject
Neal smiles, though the expression is... tired and sad and careworn.
"I wish we hadn't really met the way we did. I think we'd get along in different circumstances. I think we could still. You're... ferociously intelligent, and you have a great sense of humor, and I want to know how you broke into Malcolm's room when I designed the lock to replace the first one after he got his medications stolen. ...I mean, yeah, I could have broken in still, but I designed it."
There's a sting of irony in that last part. He quiets again. "I am sorry. I was so... I am still lost."
An admission that no one else has gotten, one that feels strange to offer now. But he trusts Jedao not to share it for some reason.
"I'm not who I was when I got here. I don't know who I'm supposed to be now. I need to go figure it out."
no subject
"That's one of the big security holes in the cabin system, that doors don't count as inside themselves for the cabin thresholds. You can kick in a door with super strength, or. If you're...telekinetic." Not a word native to his own situation, but Eiffel has called him an Exman enough for him to pick up the lingo. "You can just nudge the lock mechanism from the inside."
So. That's how.
"After - after the worst shit of my life. I was a political prisoner for two years. Gentle house arrest with lots of side interrogation, sort of thing. I was more restricted than here, but - all of the violence and chaos, there wasn't any of that. I knew what each day was going to be like, and...I could just breathe, for a while. I didn't have to make any giant decisions or deal with constant crisis or look after someone and put their issues before mine. I could just water my little onion plant and go to art therapy and play stupid video games and grade papers and then go to sleep. And when I started to scheme about maybe escaping, there was no deadline, no pressure. I could just figure things out at my own pace. It was maybe the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me."
Shuos-zho would hate being called kind out loud, but he doesn't have to know.
"I would have been a complete fucking mess of a warden if I hadn't got that time, which I know because one of those age floods took it away from me for awhile." And he'd been fucking deranged about almost everyone he met, way worse than Neal is.
"I want...that kind of time for you, to figure out who you want to be. The space to breathe instead of always getting hit with the next thing. I don't really believe in deserving as a good metric, most of the time. But I think you deserve that."
no subject
Right, focus.
It is... profoundly disorienting to hear that Jedao thinks he deserves anything. He's more than a little taken aback. He's also startled to realize somewhere during the description of how Jedao spent his days under house arrest, Neal started getting tense, like he was bracing himself for the scolding or condescension he was sure he'd have to ride his way through if he wanted to finish this conversation without a fight.
He clears his throat softly and looks away. "My life has been... the next thing and the next thing and the next thing for a long time. I don't know if it's ever been anything else, honestly. I don't know why it's so... different here."
no subject
Jedao swallows, then shrugs.
"Maybe it's none of that, I'm just speculating. But even if you could force yourself to keep marching, like you had to before - you deserve rest anyway."