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[jacksonian]

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[jacksonian]

If I stay like this - just...Peter Kane - I have a shot of not being...

[ He looks down, trying to find a word for what he is. The best he can come up with is a small, exhausted: ]

Pathetic.

[ Because he knows. Even though his head had always been filled with that shit about how he's the savior of Komarr, about how he has this grand destiny, he know that this is all his life really has been. That's become all the more transparent the longer he's lived here. That it's all just...sad. ]

[keep_nothing]

Mark—Peter. [ She reaches for his hand again. ] You're not pathetic. Not now, not ever.

[jacksonian]

[ His mouth turns up in a miserable, bitter, ironic smile. He pulls his hand back, avoiding her touch this time. ]

Just a clone.

[keep_nothing]

Which still makes you a person. And my son.

[jacksonian]

[ He draws in a sharp breath, like he's been struck. Being called that so directly - it shakes him a bit. He looks down, closing his eyes.

What will I be once I betray you, Countess? ]

I just - don't want him to know.

[keep_nothing]

... All right. That's your choice.

[ But her hand is still outstretched on the table between them. ]

[jacksonian]

[ He looks up at her, and then slowly, tentatively, skittishly, he reaches out and touches her hand. Lightly, on the palm. And his eyes - an identical gray to hers - look up and meet hers. ]

Um...Yeah. Thanks.

[keep_nothing]

[ Her fingers fold over his hand, still warm, still welcoming. ]

Could I get to know you, Peter? Would you allow me to?

[jacksonian]

[ Shyly: ]

There's not much to know, lady.

[keep_nothing]

I'd still like to.