It made his heart clench to see how affected she was by being told something so simple, and he had a feeling no one had ever said they wanted to listen to her and meant it before. But he'd succeeded in his goal to make her open up to him, and while it pained him to hear that she had such a bleak outlook on her future, he treasured the fact that she was confiding in him.
"Most people spend their whole lives never looking beyond the tips of their own noses, they don't know what goes on in the world and they don't care. They've never seen death, they've never made a kid smile in the midst of chaos just by making a funny face. They talk about Heaven and Hell like the blind about colors, but they've never experienced either. And yet they still feel it's their right to pass judgment on others," he said gravely, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice. "You're right. I'm not most people. Not a day goes by that I'm not grateful for that."
He drummed his fingers agitatedly on the table and studied her with narrowed eyes, wondering how he could make her understand that if you didn't like your setting, you could change it. That you could find a new one and make it fit instead of forcing yourself to fit into a life that was too tight around the edges. There was a small ember of hope in her eyes, and he wanted to stoke it into a blazing fire and make her feel like nothing could stop her.
His eyes caught the flicker of the dying neon light on the roof, and he shot out of his seat and into the bathroom, plugging the bathtub and turning on the water. When he came back out, he gestured absently to his kitchen drawers. "Candles are in the third drawer, matches in the second. Light some, will you?" As she complied, he paced the floor a few times, his eyes sweeping the room searchingly until he spotted the lamp by the recliner in the corner with a triumphant "Ha!".
He took her hand and dragged her with him as he moved in on the lamp, pulling it from its place and with him into the bathroom. "See that really annoying flicker from the sign of the roof?" he asked her, not waiting for her to answer before he turned off the water in the bathtub and unceremoniously dumped the lamp into it. Sparks went flying and there was a crackle of electricity, and then everything went dark. It didn't take more than a second before loud voices were heard from down the hall, angered by the loss of electricity, and Jim grinned at Uhura and shrugged. "It's been driving me crazy for weeks. Problem solved, settings changed, and I'll have no epilepsy-inducing flickering keeping me from getting a good nights sleep tonight."
no subject
"Most people spend their whole lives never looking beyond the tips of their own noses, they don't know what goes on in the world and they don't care. They've never seen death, they've never made a kid smile in the midst of chaos just by making a funny face. They talk about Heaven and Hell like the blind about colors, but they've never experienced either. And yet they still feel it's their right to pass judgment on others," he said gravely, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice. "You're right. I'm not most people. Not a day goes by that I'm not grateful for that."
He drummed his fingers agitatedly on the table and studied her with narrowed eyes, wondering how he could make her understand that if you didn't like your setting, you could change it. That you could find a new one and make it fit instead of forcing yourself to fit into a life that was too tight around the edges. There was a small ember of hope in her eyes, and he wanted to stoke it into a blazing fire and make her feel like nothing could stop her.
His eyes caught the flicker of the dying neon light on the roof, and he shot out of his seat and into the bathroom, plugging the bathtub and turning on the water. When he came back out, he gestured absently to his kitchen drawers. "Candles are in the third drawer, matches in the second. Light some, will you?" As she complied, he paced the floor a few times, his eyes sweeping the room searchingly until he spotted the lamp by the recliner in the corner with a triumphant "Ha!".
He took her hand and dragged her with him as he moved in on the lamp, pulling it from its place and with him into the bathroom. "See that really annoying flicker from the sign of the roof?" he asked her, not waiting for her to answer before he turned off the water in the bathtub and unceremoniously dumped the lamp into it. Sparks went flying and there was a crackle of electricity, and then everything went dark. It didn't take more than a second before loud voices were heard from down the hall, angered by the loss of electricity, and Jim grinned at Uhura and shrugged. "It's been driving me crazy for weeks. Problem solved, settings changed, and I'll have no epilepsy-inducing flickering keeping me from getting a good nights sleep tonight."