Divisions and Precisions

I love Jake. She says

I love Jake. She says things that no human being ever, ever says. Usually she makes it sound good and wise. But sometimes...

Kent says "I don't know. Maybe...maybe she really did want to atone. Maybe she knew that whoever killed her was out there and thought changing might let her survive it."
Jake blinks, lifting her head for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that." She smiles slightly. "I guess I'm a romantic at heart -- I'd like to think she wanted to atone."
Kent shrugs. "Could be. Part of me will always be a cynical, suspicious bastard, I guess. It comes with the job. Along with being too trusting. All at once."
Jake nods. "Always too trusting. Me too. Always..." She trails off, as if she were going to say something else and forgot, mid-sentence.
Kent tilts his head. "What is it?" He takes another swig of the flask.
Jake hms? and glances back over. "Oh, nothing. Just... remembering. Thinking it's a testament to the miracle of the resilence of the spirit that either one of us ever trusts at all anymore."
Kent nods, solemnly, and looks back out to sea. "Yeah. A real testament."
Jake wrinkles her nose slightly, a grin threatening to form in spite of herself, "That, um, did sound pretty damn pompous, didn't it."
Kent holds two fingers together, an inch or so apart. "Just a little. Hardly noticable. Really."

And sometimes she laughs at herself for being a dolt. A lot like her player.

Posted by Lisa at November 16, 2000 07:58 PM