[ He's about to say something smart and teasing, mouth twisting into one of his more infuriating sorts of smiles of his. Faraday knows he hardly does much of anything, really; no more than a few small tasks that he had volunteered himself for in an effort to keep himself busy.
But that wouldn't stop him from complaining. Simply because that was his main form of discourse.
And he's ready to do more of it, except—
Well. Emma just had to go and say that, didn't shee?
His hands freeze on the cards, and his gaze snaps to her, eyes slightly wide and expression blank. Surprise, more than anything, because Faraday hasn't had a place to call "home" in decades. Not since he was a difficult child, flinching bodily at the use of his full name. Not since he took up drifting from town to town.
For a few long seconds, Faraday can do little more than stare and blink; his command of the English language had always left a little something to be desired, but this is ridiculous.
Eventually thought returns to him, along with a handful of words, and he clears his throat, realizing he's been silent for far too long. His gaze flicks down to his hands. ]
I believe you may have misspoke, there. [ Lightly, in case Emma has a desire to take back her words.
[ the extended silence has emma questioning herself, a little frown drawing onto her face as she considers him.
she knows the kind of life he'd led, how he'd rolled himself from one town to the next, never putting down roots, never finding a place, but— he's been here for months. she's seen him (nearly) every single day, and they spend far more time together than they do apart. she sees him when she wakes and just before she goes to bed (though she doesn't like to admit to herself the amount of times he's even put her to bed), and he's become such a fixture, even in this state of existence, that doesn't he near as good live there with her?
he may not have a need to lay his head in the evening as a living soul might, but he remains so often by her side or in her house in some manner or another.
wouldn't that make this his home?
she doesn't look away from him, doesn't falter in her usual fierce expression. ]
Near as I reckon, one could easily say you live here, Faraday. I know a lot could be argued about how you do, but I'd call this place yours without so much as blinkin'.
So, no, I haven't misspoke.
[ she sits up a touch straighter, her jaw setting slightly. ]
If you want this to be your home, then it is.
[ but part of her is bracing herself to hear that it's not. that he's here by nature of circumstance and the fact that he can't find himself any other place — that he's only sticking around because he's tied to rose creek, and her home happens to be convenient given she's the only one who can see him. ]
[ Faraday watches the way she steels herself, the way she stokes those flames of determination, like she's facing down an army. A quality he's come to recognize and admire, surely, but he's not entirely sure what it is in this situation that's warranted it.
She seems so sure of herself, though, so sure of the strange words that have fallen from her lips, and Faraday finds a small part of him relaxing. Finds a small part of him vaguely touched by the gesture. Faraday doesn't expect anyone he had known in life would be so willing as to extend such an invitation to him – not that he could blame him, considering the man he is.
But now, with so little of him left, now is when he finds a place where he might actually belong.
It's not such a terrible feeling, he thinks, though the implications, that fear of complacency, still buzz at the back of his mind.
Despite himself, despite that strange force that tightens around his chest, he finds himself smiling. A small, barely there thing, little more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he feels it, and ducks his head a little to hide it. ]
[ well, it's by no means an outright rejection, but that tiny smile tugging at his lips, barely there before he moves to hide it, is heartening in its own right.
that unflappable determination fades, just a touch, softening into a hint of her own smile — soft and small, but meaningful. appreciative. ]
Take as long as you like.
[ she finally stands again from the table, steadier this time, without the earlier waver thanks to the bourbon, and gathers up her dishes. ]
Suppose we have nothing but time, wouldn't you say?
[ ... Well, Faraday, at the very least, has all the time in the world, considering what he is and isn't. The same can't quite be said for Emma, and he frowns a little at the thought.
It hadn't occurred to him before, that he would remain if Emma didn't. That if he stayed as he was, where he was, he might very well be witness to the people of Rose Creek aging, Emma included. And what a melancholy sort of thought that was.
He pushes it away, possibly to examine later (possibly never), and watches as she stands. He smirks a little. ]
[ emma tosses a flat look his way as she takes her plate to the counter. ]
I told you you wouldn't be seein' me much impaired tonight. I probably needed to eat, was all.
[ she hadn't been the same kind of drunk like that last time in the saloon, fortunately, and she at least has the coordination to start cleaning up after her meal. ]
Put this up, would you?
[ she glances back at him, a tiny twitch at her lips as she gestures to one of the pans. ]
Might as well earn your keep with some of that reach of yours.
[ Faraday grunts out a frustrated noise, arms going lax at his side and tipping his head back to the ceiling in a manner that would make many of Rose Creek's schoolchildren proud. ]
Fine.
[ And he drags out the word on a long exhale. The cards drop onto the table as he trudges over, stowing the pan she had pointed him toward. ]
You know, you wouldn't need my help so much if you just put this someplace within easy reach.
[ emma's actually pretty amused by his petulant display, just enjoying the sulky show as he comes up to take care of the pans for her. ]
But I also wouldn't have near so much space on my shelves.
[ her tone comes out dismissive, but the entertained twinkle hasn't left her eyes. ]
I know it's terribly demanding of your abilities to ask it of you, but I reckon you'll survive somehow. Seems there's nothin' in this world that can actually shake Joshua Faraday — so I doubt a pan will be your undoing.
[ For a long, rebellious moment, he remains as he is, staring her down with all the intensity of the moments before a shootout, nervous energy crackling in the air between them. Eyes narrowed and lips set into a thin, disapproving line.
But the moment is short-lived, and he huffs out an irritated breath through his nose, taking the pot from her waiting hand. ]
[ emma, being emma, doesn't even break eye contact with him as he fixes her with that stare, and she just watches and waits — until he finally takes the pot.
s u c c e s s. ]
The top shelf of that cupboard on your left will do. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't go putting it anywhere it oughtn't be.
[ and she turns away from him to go right back to finishing off the rest of the cleaning. ]
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no subject
But that wouldn't stop him from complaining. Simply because that was his main form of discourse.
And he's ready to do more of it, except—
Well. Emma just had to go and say that, didn't shee?
His hands freeze on the cards, and his gaze snaps to her, eyes slightly wide and expression blank. Surprise, more than anything, because Faraday hasn't had a place to call "home" in decades. Not since he was a difficult child, flinching bodily at the use of his full name. Not since he took up drifting from town to town.
For a few long seconds, Faraday can do little more than stare and blink; his command of the English language had always left a little something to be desired, but this is ridiculous.
Eventually thought returns to him, along with a handful of words, and he clears his throat, realizing he's been silent for far too long. His gaze flicks down to his hands. ]
I believe you may have misspoke, there. [ Lightly, in case Emma has a desire to take back her words.
(A distant part of him hopes she doesn't.) ]
Or else, not rightly sure if I heard you right.
no subject
she knows the kind of life he'd led, how he'd rolled himself from one town to the next, never putting down roots, never finding a place, but— he's been here for months. she's seen him (nearly) every single day, and they spend far more time together than they do apart. she sees him when she wakes and just before she goes to bed (though she doesn't like to admit to herself the amount of times he's even put her to bed), and he's become such a fixture, even in this state of existence, that doesn't he near as good live there with her?
he may not have a need to lay his head in the evening as a living soul might, but he remains so often by her side or in her house in some manner or another.
wouldn't that make this his home?
she doesn't look away from him, doesn't falter in her usual fierce expression. ]
Near as I reckon, one could easily say you live here, Faraday. I know a lot could be argued about how you do, but I'd call this place yours without so much as blinkin'.
So, no, I haven't misspoke.
[ she sits up a touch straighter, her jaw setting slightly. ]
If you want this to be your home, then it is.
[ but part of her is bracing herself to hear that it's not. that he's here by nature of circumstance and the fact that he can't find himself any other place — that he's only sticking around because he's tied to rose creek, and her home happens to be convenient given she's the only one who can see him. ]
no subject
She seems so sure of herself, though, so sure of the strange words that have fallen from her lips, and Faraday finds a small part of him relaxing. Finds a small part of him vaguely touched by the gesture. Faraday doesn't expect anyone he had known in life would be so willing as to extend such an invitation to him – not that he could blame him, considering the man he is.
But now, with so little of him left, now is when he finds a place where he might actually belong.
It's not such a terrible feeling, he thinks, though the implications, that fear of complacency, still buzz at the back of his mind.
Despite himself, despite that strange force that tightens around his chest, he finds himself smiling. A small, barely there thing, little more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he feels it, and ducks his head a little to hide it. ]
That's quite an offer, you know.
[ A little gruffly. ]
Suppose I'll have to think on it.
[ Though he already knows his answer. ]
no subject
[ well, it's by no means an outright rejection, but that tiny smile tugging at his lips, barely there before he moves to hide it, is heartening in its own right.
that unflappable determination fades, just a touch, softening into a hint of her own smile — soft and small, but meaningful. appreciative. ]
Take as long as you like.
[ she finally stands again from the table, steadier this time, without the earlier waver thanks to the bourbon, and gathers up her dishes. ]
Suppose we have nothing but time, wouldn't you say?
no subject
[ ... Well, Faraday, at the very least, has all the time in the world, considering what he is and isn't. The same can't quite be said for Emma, and he frowns a little at the thought.
It hadn't occurred to him before, that he would remain if Emma didn't. That if he stayed as he was, where he was, he might very well be witness to the people of Rose Creek aging, Emma included. And what a melancholy sort of thought that was.
He pushes it away, possibly to examine later (possibly never), and watches as she stands. He smirks a little. ]
Whiskey's wearin' off, it looks like.
no subject
I told you you wouldn't be seein' me much impaired tonight. I probably needed to eat, was all.
[ she hadn't been the same kind of drunk like that last time in the saloon, fortunately, and she at least has the coordination to start cleaning up after her meal. ]
Put this up, would you?
[ she glances back at him, a tiny twitch at her lips as she gestures to one of the pans. ]
Might as well earn your keep with some of that reach of yours.
no subject
Fine.
[ And he drags out the word on a long exhale. The cards drop onto the table as he trudges over, stowing the pan she had pointed him toward. ]
You know, you wouldn't need my help so much if you just put this someplace within easy reach.
no subject
But I also wouldn't have near so much space on my shelves.
[ her tone comes out dismissive, but the entertained twinkle hasn't left her eyes. ]
I know it's terribly demanding of your abilities to ask it of you, but I reckon you'll survive somehow. Seems there's nothin' in this world that can actually shake Joshua Faraday — so I doubt a pan will be your undoing.
no subject
[ Still with that air of irritation, as if no man alive or dead has ever been so put-upon as Josh Faraday. ]
We might never know what might end me, oddity that I am. It could very well be some fiendish piece of cookware that leads to my downfall.
[ With the pot put away, he turns toward her, hands on his hips. ]
It's about as likely as anything.
[ it surely is not. ]
no subject
Then on that day, I'll surely regret goin' so far as to ask you to put away a few of my dishes.
[ of course, she doubts it'll be her pots and pans that send his soul off; in fact, he'll likely outlast her, state that he's in.
...oh. that's not a thought she cares to dwell on, actually. ]
But until then— [ she reaches over, lifts one last pan and holds it out to him. ] —set this a touch higher.
no subject
But the moment is short-lived, and he huffs out an irritated breath through his nose, taking the pot from her waiting hand. ]
How high, exactly? The roof, maybe?
no subject
s u c c e s s. ]
The top shelf of that cupboard on your left will do. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't go putting it anywhere it oughtn't be.
[ and she turns away from him to go right back to finishing off the rest of the cleaning. ]