[ Something in his voice he cannot permit, almost wet and almost laughing, despairing, and he takes it by the neck to strangle it back. ]
It will never be simple.
[ Knowing not McGillis's thoughts, but as though he had not disrupted the previous strain, that of revenge and how it ought to be conducted. ]
You would think otherwise. You, who compartmentalize what you pretend to feel, while feeling nothing. Should I be again too trusting, at your convenience, because I might be again useful to you? A dead man has no utility.
[ But to kill, to kill, to kill, and drag to the pyre and grave. Unable to stay his hand, he thrusts it into a gesture, hard into the air, toward the black spindling. ]
How temporary? If they are hostile, then I would -- I couldn't, I can't let anyone else kill you.
[ Spoken like that, it close to mandates this, but his mind cannot preserve cohesion with a truce with this man. ]
But, if they aren't? What then and to what ends?
[ Though all hinges on the answers, Gaelio cannot stomach the notion of McGillis deciding it and setting their terms. Unable to trust, he doubts McGillis would keep to whatever he chose, should a better opportunity present itself. Impasse, but necessity in the unknown and in dual if opposing purposes. So the less noxious option.
Yet again, his body lurching into a severe turn, more fully away from McGillis, his difficult hand sweeping down his face and finally settling once more at his side. Then, more naturally angling, he begins to walk toward the smoke's direction, across the field. ]
Through that destination and whatever waits. Those are the terms. Then, we revisit.
no subject
[ Something in his voice he cannot permit, almost wet and almost laughing, despairing, and he takes it by the neck to strangle it back. ]
It will never be simple.
[ Knowing not McGillis's thoughts, but as though he had not disrupted the previous strain, that of revenge and how it ought to be conducted. ]
You would think otherwise. You, who compartmentalize what you pretend to feel, while feeling nothing. Should I be again too trusting, at your convenience, because I might be again useful to you? A dead man has no utility.
[ But to kill, to kill, to kill, and drag to the pyre and grave. Unable to stay his hand, he thrusts it into a gesture, hard into the air, toward the black spindling. ]
How temporary? If they are hostile, then I would -- I couldn't, I can't let anyone else kill you.
[ Spoken like that, it close to mandates this, but his mind cannot preserve cohesion with a truce with this man. ]
But, if they aren't? What then and to what ends?
[ Though all hinges on the answers, Gaelio cannot stomach the notion of McGillis deciding it and setting their terms. Unable to trust, he doubts McGillis would keep to whatever he chose, should a better opportunity present itself. Impasse, but necessity in the unknown and in dual if opposing purposes. So the less noxious option.
Yet again, his body lurching into a severe turn, more fully away from McGillis, his difficult hand sweeping down his face and finally settling once more at his side. Then, more naturally angling, he begins to walk toward the smoke's direction, across the field. ]
Through that destination and whatever waits. Those are the terms. Then, we revisit.