[ Honestly, he's surprised that Gale even realizes he could read.
Godfrey would say as much. He feels the urge rise giddily in him - the urge to grab any sharp word he could point at him. He would tell him all that he had ruined. He would recount in agonizing detail the therapy sessions, the dead marriage, the long nights of pained twisting in his gut as the stain on his integrity weighed on him. The dawning horror which accompanied the predation he'd endured, rearing in his thoughts with the slow dread of a cold tide. Each new piece of learning a new stone in his gut, each step in his journey a fresh horror clawing at his back. The convictions. The smooth, clean room, where he was granted the honour of a few hours with his stepchild and an appointed worker every week.
He would have fashioned them all into a cat and beat him with it. He would have turned each bubbling stream of anger into a new leather tail.
If only he could.
But his anger is not the only factor in this conversation. Whatever he divulged would wind up in the ears of the Tremere, and Godfrey would not afford him the satisfaction of compromising himself and the Society for his own gratification. Their past hardly mattered; he knows what Gale is. It's high time Godfrey began to treat him accordingly.
He lifts his head, eyes flattening, and he stares at Gale for a moment. ]
By now, I know a great many things that I once did not.
[ He can surely imagine what those things might be without Godfrey's help. ]
no subject
Godfrey would say as much. He feels the urge rise giddily in him - the urge to grab any sharp word he could point at him. He would tell him all that he had ruined. He would recount in agonizing detail the therapy sessions, the dead marriage, the long nights of pained twisting in his gut as the stain on his integrity weighed on him. The dawning horror which accompanied the predation he'd endured, rearing in his thoughts with the slow dread of a cold tide. Each new piece of learning a new stone in his gut, each step in his journey a fresh horror clawing at his back. The convictions. The smooth, clean room, where he was granted the honour of a few hours with his stepchild and an appointed worker every week.
He would have fashioned them all into a cat and beat him with it. He would have turned each bubbling stream of anger into a new leather tail.
If only he could.
But his anger is not the only factor in this conversation. Whatever he divulged would wind up in the ears of the Tremere, and Godfrey would not afford him the satisfaction of compromising himself and the Society for his own gratification. Their past hardly mattered; he knows what Gale is. It's high time Godfrey began to treat him accordingly.
He lifts his head, eyes flattening, and he stares at Gale for a moment. ]
By now, I know a great many things that I once did not.
[ He can surely imagine what those things might be without Godfrey's help. ]