„I might surprise you by volunteering,“ Sloane says, amused by Scott Summer’s gesture as well. In a way, it’s flattering. He doesn’t suffer from false modesty, but he’s quite aware that middle-aged, thin and grizzled former spies are one one’s idea of romantic competition.
Then Emma asks her question, and it’s time for the next move. Arvin Sloane starts by the casual and true (leaving out a few minor details, including going through a fake execution): “Oh, I went back to work for the government for a while.”
They’d know as much both from his application and Ms. Pryde’s research. Then he proceeds to tell her something which he hadn’t mentioned before, in either application or correspondance. He hardly ever allows himself to think about it; it’s something that can overwhelm him, if he lets it. But Sloane has learned to lie with the truth at a young age. He’s not exactly planning on lying to Emma right now, but he doesn’t want her, or anyone else, including himself, to investigate those holes in his memory covering almost a year. The way to do that, he decided in advance, the way to distract a telepath was by laying himself bare in another regard, risking one vulnerability to cover another. Because he knows if he really opens himself to one particular event, he won’t, at that point, be able to feel anything else.
“I also found a daughter I never knew I had, and I – “
lost her again, he had wanted to conclude, but suddenly he despises the euphemism. “She is dead,” Sloane says abruptly. There it is, the last image before the blackness, the roof, Nadia and Sydney struggling, Nadia and her crazed, tormented eyes, about to kill her sister, no choice, no choice, the gun at his hand, the shot, and Sydney staring at him in disbelief while Nadia’s body crumbles to the floor.
Not a month before that, Nadia had brought him back from the closest thing he had ever known to death.
I believe in you, Dad.
“You can’t go back to your old life,” Sloane says, looking directly in Emma’s eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper, “once you have held the dead body of your child.”
At this opportune moment, the waiter shows up, ready to take their orders.
no subject
Then Emma asks her question, and it’s time for the next move. Arvin Sloane starts by the casual and true (leaving out a few minor details, including going through a fake execution): “Oh, I went back to work for the government for a while.”
They’d know as much both from his application and Ms. Pryde’s research. Then he proceeds to tell her something which he hadn’t mentioned before, in either application or correspondance. He hardly ever allows himself to think about it; it’s something that can overwhelm him, if he lets it. But Sloane has learned to lie with the truth at a young age. He’s not exactly planning on lying to Emma right now, but he doesn’t want her, or anyone else, including himself, to investigate those holes in his memory covering almost a year. The way to do that, he decided in advance, the way to distract a telepath was by laying himself bare in another regard, risking one vulnerability to cover another. Because he knows if he really opens himself to one particular event, he won’t, at that point, be able to feel anything else.
“I also found a daughter I never knew I had, and I – “
lost her again, he had wanted to conclude, but suddenly he despises the euphemism. “She is dead,” Sloane says abruptly. There it is, the last image before the blackness, the roof, Nadia and Sydney struggling, Nadia and her crazed, tormented eyes, about to kill her sister, no choice, no choice, the gun at his hand, the shot, and Sydney staring at him in disbelief while Nadia’s body crumbles to the floor.
Not a month before that, Nadia had brought him back from the closest thing he had ever known to death.
I believe in you, Dad.
“You can’t go back to your old life,” Sloane says, looking directly in Emma’s eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper, “once you have held the dead body of your child.”
At this opportune moment, the waiter shows up, ready to take their orders.