[ Prompt: Inara receives a web message from H. Crane, a mysterious and private core world art collector and businessman, requesting a preliminary meeting at the next convenient civilized planet she stops at. It's extremely polite and properly worded, making no presumptions, paying her full rate for her time in advance. Other than that, he gives very few details. ]
( after another restless argument with the captain of her ship it seemed inara was just about ready to give up on her line of work and truly turn into a petty thief. smuggling garbage like geisha dolls and costume jewelry was far beneath her, but she had a very specific goal. the onus was truly on her to find ways to visit clients and accumulate themβ
though it seemed fortune had smiled upon her today. it had been another hectic day aboard the serenity, the crew was fighting each other for the last can of processed meat with river tormenting anyone who dared divide it in the incorrect fashion. instead of enduring that level of torture, inara decided to return to her own shuttle, the ding of a new message coming in at the same time as her return. after thoroughly inspecting the message, she decided to get to work.
this type of client was far from being out of the ordinary for her but there was something interesting about the fact that he was willing to pay the full rate in advance. that type of customer could mean one of two thingsβ either they were going to be one of the best clients she's had, a repeat contract or they were expecting far more from her because of their 'generosity'. it was a difficult thing for her to determine really, because although she managed herself with the upmost of control and firmness, she wasn't able to predict what she could expect. only basing her expectations off of the behavior of previous clients.
regardless of what was to come, she began her preparations as usual and informed the rest of the crew that her newest client so happened to be conveniently located on a planet only a day away from them. it took some arguing, but the arrangements were made.
β
when the day finally came, she sent her location to her client and began working on creating a very specific ambiance for the man. the lighting in her shuttle was low, shawls draped over lamps and the smell of incense filled the room with both a fragrant smell and a light fog. water for tea was brewing away on a small stovetop, an array of different types of tea spread out on a coffee table for her guest to pick.
all that was left was for the man of the hour to show up, and when he did, inara would be at the door of her shuttle in a long silk dress, gold jewelry adorning her features, and a soft expression on her face. )
[ Harold is nervous. Extremely nervous. It's completely foreign for him to reach out at all, for support or alliance or even to make enemies, frankly. He's a frightfully reserved person who hasn't used his real name since he was seventeen. He's lost-- is everything an exaggeration? It doesn't feel like it.
He can't see Grace again, Nathan is dead, and he can't bear to communicate with the Machine. It had pushed him not to go through with his awful revenge plan on Alicia Corwin, who truly didn't deserve it, was the messenger and not the author... and still Harold couldn't face what he'd made. Not really. He got the output, the irrelevant numbers, and he stared at them stymied from his wheelchair as he tried to muster up the courage to do something, anything, about them.
It's some months later from that point, and he has found some courage. He's done things; he's tried. But he's still so frightfully alone. He's worried that he'll fall back into that same dark place he'd been in when he'd decided to suffocate Alicia Corwin in her own vehicle. Harold hadn't ever thought he had that in himself, and confronting that made him also confront that he was responsible for preventing it from happening again. How close was he to repeating that with some offender he runs across while working the irrelevant numbers? How close was he really? He needs a safe outlet to be sure.
A registered Companion seemed the lesser of all possible evils for spilling his guts. They were famously and notoriously discreet, and the idea of therapy made him feel ill. Harold supports psychotherapy as a practice, of course. He'd encourage anyone else to go. But he knows that counseling will want to have the end goal of him moving on, and...
He doesn't want to.
So he finds himself meeting Inara Serra, someone he'd meticulously researched before choosing, on a mid-tier planet on a ramshackle ship. He's not about to chance anyone too connected to the establishment, so this choice is deliberate. He's dressed immaculately as Harold Crane, higher brow than usual, and he has a cane that he doesn't use for support despite his limp as he makes his way on board. He has a remote expression, distant, the best coping mechanism he knows.
Despite his air of aloofness, he's impeccably courteous as he greets Inara at her door, inclining his head respectfully. ]
Ms. Serra, thank you for agreeing to this engagement. I'm sure your time is precious.
( the moment the door opened and the flood of light from the outside filled the vicinity, inara rose her gaze up to meet the man before her. whatever worries and concerns that had filled her about the kind of client he might be, were easily lifted away by his impeccable manners and courteous words. at his own incline, she followed soon with a gentle ease, matching his energy without hesitation. there was always the possibility that this was a well crafted persona, the truth waiting to lurk once they were far more intimate but there was something almost sad about him.
still, without any further hesitation or delay, inara gently stepped to the side to allow harold in and closed the door to her shuttle almost immediately after him. )
It's my pleasure, this time we will be spending together is far more precious, so please don't worry.
( moving behind him, inara began to guide him towards one of the more comfortable couches in her shuttle. once he seemed to follow her lead and take comfort in his own space, at his own pace, she began to move towards the pot of boiling water. )
I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing water for a proper tea ceremony. Do you have a preference? Green, black, oolong.....?
( with the handle of the pot in her hand, she began to walk over towards the coffee table in front of harold, guiding her free hand towards the assortment of tea already placed there for his benefit. the setup was professional and intended to allow him to smell the aroma of each bundle of tea leaves, with there being a setup for gongfu, accessories and all including a tea pet. there was a small plate next to the tray, offering an assortment of eastern snacks meant to aid in digestion and healthβ from dried jujube, dried persimmons, and other assortments.
in the meantime, she stood before him awaiting for his decision before she began the elaborate and correct process of brewing tea for this particular ceremony. )
[ He's here for comfort and support, he's paying her for it, but Harold still feels unmoored to be offered it so readily. Their first words exchanged and she's already expressing more care for him than he's heard from another human being since Nathan died. He'd done that to himself -- he'd isolated himself, purposefully; he can't risk Grace -- and anyone who becomes newly important to him will equally have a target on their back, same as Grace, so it's best if he doesn't allow it --
It's only the professionalism here that makes him brave enough to try. He's done everything he can to bury this encounter in a well-protected identity, the kind of thing no one would blink twice at Harold Crane engaging in. It's as safe as he could ever make it, hypothetically safer than he's been in ages. His background check on Inara and her shipmates was thorough.
Safety is such a foreign idea he doesn't know how to trust it, tries to cover his blip of awkwardness as he takes a seat and follows her invitation to examine the tea selection. He sets his cane to the side and unbuttons his jacket first -- proper etiquette while sitting -- and is in fact put more at ease by the familiar, comforting task of considering which tea to make, if in a much more elaborate setting than usual. ]
I'm partial to Japanese greens, [ he admits. ] This is an impressive arrangement. I confess I've never attended a traditional tea ceremony.
[ And he's obviously curious, interested in art and culture and fine food as always. It's nicely pulling him out of his morose thoughts and back to the present already. ]
( the entire ordeal of hiring inara and seeking her for companionship was a carefully curated affair that even those experienced with finer luxuries and the like would be left surprised by. from the decor in her shuttle, to the soft and delicate smell of lavender and sandalwood that filled the space, to simply the way she handled herself before her guests was something she planned and executed well. it was never her intentions to outright be on anyone's good side for anything too dark or ulteriorβ but rather she knew that repeat customers who enjoyed this kind of thing were far better than the occasional guest who rebuffed her traditions and rituals. not everything was about sexβ
even if the end goal was that for most clients. )
Well Mr. Crane I'm certainly honored that I get to be the first to provide such an experience for you. I don't often entertain guests who know the subtleties and variances of Japanese green teas. How about a sencha to start you off with?
( it was suitable in a wayβ the blend of cultures and items in his setup given just how blended their world had become over the many years of humans colonizing the stars.
at his word she began to prepare everything for him, hands moving graceful almost as if she were moving the rhythm of a few piano notes being played. her eyes were concentrated on the task at hand at first, but soon she gazed up at him to give him every ounce of attention he had paid for. after all, at the end of the day this was all for him and so far he had been a pleasant guest. )
I do hope you find it suitable to your tastes, I find the balance of sweetness and bitterness makes for a perfect experience, leaving just a bit of aftertaste to remind you of what you just enjoyed....
( of course there's just the slightest bit of flirting in her words there, almost as if to say 'you'll taste me and I'll linger, haunting you leaving you yearning for more.'. )
[ That hiring Inara was something of an ordeal was something Harold found perversely reassuring. It made him believe she really wanted to be here, was choosing to be a Companion out of multiple avenues open to her. He doesn't have any intent of engaging in sex but he knows it's a common part of the job and that she would be evaluating any potential clients on that possible basis. Anyone with a less rigorous screening process would cause him to be concerned.
As it is, there's absolutely nothing about Inara to make Harold think she isn't enjoying herself or that he's burdening her somehow. Maybe there's a part of him that's still shocked he's doing this at all, can't believe he's gone through with it and now is looking for an excuse to run scared.
But he can't keep doing what he's been doing. He's just been so alone. ]
Sencha is my favorite, [ he admits, almost reluctantly. Harold is trying to maintain the decorum characteristic of the Crane persona but this personal admission comes off shy instead. He's been pushed to his limit lately and his acting skills, never phenomenal, aren't up to the task.
Being watched so attentively makes him shyer still, stiff and precisely held on the comfortable seat. He isn't able to meet her eyes, uses the convenient excuse of watching her slender hands delicately perform the tea ceremony to avoid eye contact, which he is at least truly interested in. Small mercies that it isn't espresso, or more aptly Turkish coffee in this type of setting. He hasn't been able to drink any type of coffee without thinking of Grace.
He needs to say something else and not just sit here like a dud fuse, he realizes. ]
I haven't made time for something like this in quite a while.
[ He used to, regularly. Before. He used to visit museums and attend orchestras and arrange for private dinners. Now there's nothing but a dark, desolate library that he finds himself wandering back to again and again, like he'll find some new trace of Nathan there. ]
( as she continued on with the tea service, she washed a few of the leaves with hot water before finalizing the brew and setting aside the pot for now. she began to reach for the treats set aside with a pair of tongs, placing them on a plate for him. he didn't need to ask or demand anything of her, she was more than happy to serve him and the more time she spent in his vicinity, the more she sensed that the man before her was no threat. there was something about his visit though that stood out to herβ
normally she didn't assume this because really it was part of the reason most people hired her, but she almost sensed there would be no true intimacy between the two. perhaps it was the air of nervousness and reservation he had, but she was sure there was something else about it. she wouldn't comment on it though or try to guess because despite being a woman who loved being in control, she truly wanted to see where this would go. would she be right? or would he prove her wrong?
for now though she checked on the tea and began to serve them both before idly shifting her gaze towards him with a soft smile. )
Well I'm glad you decided to do that today, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it. I'll certainly do my best to ensure it, after allβ
( and when the tea was prepared, she placed the cups in front of him before moving to sit near him, but not quite close. she would work her way towards that. )
Today is all about you. It's good to take moments like this for yourself though, so I hope you do find some time on your own and if I see you next time, I'd like to hear about it.
[ Harold has an almost palpable air of personal space, an unconscious poise in which he holds himself apart from those around him. He cares so greatly and so desperately, he has to protect himself somehow. His vulnerabilities become all too obvious to anyone looking closely, and turning his natural shy reserve into something aloof has become his best defense.
But this setting and context is designed to have him let down his guard, and he'd willingly engaged in it, recognized that he needs to do something different and this is indeed different. There's an awkward tentative nature to how Harold cautiously lowers his walls a few inches at first.
Then the grief washes through like the tide taking a paltry sandcastle out to sea and he's helpless in the face of it. ]
I lost someone very dear to me recently.
[ It spills out of his mouth like water escaping from an unwatched pot boiling over. His hands find the tea cup and take it gently, automatically, but he's paralyzed by his own admission. ]
... I'm sorry. I sought you out because I'm afraid I'm not dealing with it well, [ what a laughable understatement, ] and I'm afraid of the repercussions. I'm not likely to make for good company, and if you wish to see other clientele instead I will fully understand.
[ He'd say he'd pay her fee regardless, but since he's already paid it in advance, that's moot. Harold can't stand the idea that someone is stuck listening to his sad sack pathetic excuses because they're waiting for their paycheck. He's so intensely private, he's mortified already at what he's said, fingers curling around the tea cup. ]
( as he remained seated on her couch, the pattern something elegant yet muted, perfectly suited to the overall aesthetic of her space, there was a tension in the air. it seemed to grow and increase as the steam of the tea lifted into the air and wafted gently to the side. it was only when he finally said those words that all the pieces of the puzzle came falling down into place, and that tension seemed to snap like a rope being pulled. finally, it all made sense now and while he wasn't the first kind of client to seek out her services for this purpose, she had no qualms about it.
in fact, she found herself more than willing to comfort him during such a difficult time, whether it was through simply speaking to each other, providing him a safe space to rest and mull over his pain, or something more physical, she was truly there for him. so she lifted her own tea cup up, eyes fixed on him as he went on before taking a small sip.
upon his words, stating he'd make for poor company and that she'd be better off with other clientele, she set her cup down and simply shook her head. he wasn't a child, he didn't need comforting lies from her so the words that came out of her were the simply truth. )
Mr. Finch, I'm very selective when it comes to the clients I take on and the people I choose to spend time with. There is no other client I'd rather be spending this time with.
( her words are a bit more firm, but sincere in their cantor. )
This is a place for you to relax and unwind, to speak to your heart's content and to share and withhold what you please. If that is how you wish to spend your time here, I am more than happy to listen. Will you tell me more? About this person? About....how you're feeling?
( across the table, she reached out gently, leaning in and placing her hand down to offer him a small touch if he'd accept it. )
[ Harold has lost the only people in his life he could speak honestly to, who knew him as a person and not just a shadowy figure, and Inara's frankness hits his usual feigned distance like the cold shock of the winter ocean. It's crisp and bracing, and very much needed to jar him out of his rote habits.
He's not sure he's ready for physical contact, but he might as well try. He hasn't touched anyone in comfort since...
Since he left Grace.
He settles his own hand tentatively, gingerly on hers. ] Point taken, [ he concedes, feeling a lump forming in his throat from suppressed emotion. ] He was my oldest and best friend, and my business partner.
I really... [ Harold breathes out around the intensity of feeling he's containing. ] I don't know what to do without him.
[ It was his fault he'd died, entirely his fault, and Harold is stuck there and can't move past it. ]
( the reciprocation of affection was quite nice, far more comforting than she had been expecting and while on a surface level he was nothing more than a client, she never did view the people she worked with as simply that. there was a reason she was picky about who she invited in, who she worked with, who she shared her energy withβ
so though the touch was simple, it was enough to make her feel like they were starting to connect. she had no promises of curing whatever was truly ailing him but she'd do her best to support him if that's what he sought out. )
It sounds like you are quite lost and confused without him. When you become so close to someone that their presence becomes second nature, it can be difficult to be without them. I'm so very sorry for your loss....truly I mean it.
( inara gently touched his skin, a soft sign of affection before she slipped away and continued with her own cup of tea. a brief moment of affection to tether them, to test the waters.
he's in control of how much he wants to share and indulgeβ it's the one thing inara wants to get across. )
[ How could he be cured? Harold had tried a counselor just once before deciding he couldn't bear it. She'd tried to coach him through survivor's guilt, but been stymied when he asked her how he was meant to move on when it was, in fact, his fault that Nathan had died. Or maybe that was unfair; maybe he was reading his own issue into it, unable to comprehend or see how she could respond in a way that felt legitimate. He hadn't given her a chance, after all.
He hadn't given her a chance and then he'd tried to kill Alicia Corwin in the most shameful way imaginable, and the Machine kept ringing phones, kept reminding him in the only way he'd left available to it to reach out to him that he wasn't totally alone --
In the face of that, Harold can take someone's hand if that's what will prevent it from happening again. His palm veritably prickles at the sensation. He doesn't entertain physical contact much at all and never with someone on first meeting. It's disconcerting, strange. But as she pulls away he's also struck by how warm and soft her skin was against his, how that physical sensation is a bright lodestone against the murky swimming seas of his mind, so easy to get lost in and the contact a landmark against it. ]
Since college. For decades.
[ Even that much is not something Harold tells people, has never told them. Grace didn't know Nathan existed; Nathan learned Grace existed when he proposed, for God's sake. Harold doesn't know how to not protect himself. ]
I'm a very private person, [ he confesses in a soft tone, ] and he knew me in every way that mattered. I depended on him to feel connected to the world. [ Wryly, trying to recover some humor, uncomfortable with his own vulnerability: ] Perceptive of you to call me lost and confused without him.
( as inara remained there seated, she brought a pause to her movements to fully turn her body towards harold and gave him the attention he deserved in this moment. this might have been a paid session but if there was one thing inara had noticed from most of her clients was they weren't just there for the sexual nature of her work;
no most of them sought something they couldn't find elsewhere. a type of comfort that no one else could understand and if they could, it was the kind of pain they couldn't share with people they knew. the familiarity felt too vulnerable, it was easier to turn to a stranger, and it was something inara understood far too well.
as he spoke, she immediately agreed within her mind that he did seem privateβ after all, he'd been quite discreet in contacting her and while she was in no rush to make him do anything beyond what he felt comfortable with, there was a still energy in the room. thankfully he seemed to buoy it with that little quip.
so with a softer expression, she smiled at him and finally lifted her cup of tea. )
It's not a fault by the way, it's okay to feel lost and confused sometimes but I suppose I have a sharp eye.
( she's match his own humor with hers, but she's keeping a level of control here as well. )
Our world is quite large isn't it? Full of unknowns and inconceivable things....that's why I created this space to be like this. I can connect to the world on my own terms and still have somewhere to escape to and recover. Have you considered doing that?
( it could be here with her, continuing these sessions but even if he opted not to, she felt he could benefit from such a thing. a small space for him to escape to. )
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though it seemed fortune had smiled upon her today. it had been another hectic day aboard the serenity, the crew was fighting each other for the last can of processed meat with river tormenting anyone who dared divide it in the incorrect fashion. instead of enduring that level of torture, inara decided to return to her own shuttle, the ding of a new message coming in at the same time as her return. after thoroughly inspecting the message, she decided to get to work.
this type of client was far from being out of the ordinary for her but there was something interesting about the fact that he was willing to pay the full rate in advance. that type of customer could mean one of two thingsβ either they were going to be one of the best clients she's had, a repeat contract or they were expecting far more from her because of their 'generosity'. it was a difficult thing for her to determine really, because although she managed herself with the upmost of control and firmness, she wasn't able to predict what she could expect. only basing her expectations off of the behavior of previous clients.
regardless of what was to come, she began her preparations as usual and informed the rest of the crew that her newest client so happened to be conveniently located on a planet only a day away from them. it took some arguing, but the arrangements were made.
β
when the day finally came, she sent her location to her client and began working on creating a very specific ambiance for the man. the lighting in her shuttle was low, shawls draped over lamps and the smell of incense filled the room with both a fragrant smell and a light fog. water for tea was brewing away on a small stovetop, an array of different types of tea spread out on a coffee table for her guest to pick.
all that was left was for the man of the hour to show up, and when he did, inara would be at the door of her shuttle in a long silk dress, gold jewelry adorning her features, and a soft expression on her face. )
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He can't see Grace again, Nathan is dead, and he can't bear to communicate with the Machine. It had pushed him not to go through with his awful revenge plan on Alicia Corwin, who truly didn't deserve it, was the messenger and not the author... and still Harold couldn't face what he'd made. Not really. He got the output, the irrelevant numbers, and he stared at them stymied from his wheelchair as he tried to muster up the courage to do something, anything, about them.
It's some months later from that point, and he has found some courage. He's done things; he's tried. But he's still so frightfully alone. He's worried that he'll fall back into that same dark place he'd been in when he'd decided to suffocate Alicia Corwin in her own vehicle. Harold hadn't ever thought he had that in himself, and confronting that made him also confront that he was responsible for preventing it from happening again. How close was he to repeating that with some offender he runs across while working the irrelevant numbers? How close was he really? He needs a safe outlet to be sure.
A registered Companion seemed the lesser of all possible evils for spilling his guts. They were famously and notoriously discreet, and the idea of therapy made him feel ill. Harold supports psychotherapy as a practice, of course. He'd encourage anyone else to go. But he knows that counseling will want to have the end goal of him moving on, and...
He doesn't want to.
So he finds himself meeting Inara Serra, someone he'd meticulously researched before choosing, on a mid-tier planet on a ramshackle ship. He's not about to chance anyone too connected to the establishment, so this choice is deliberate. He's dressed immaculately as Harold Crane, higher brow than usual, and he has a cane that he doesn't use for support despite his limp as he makes his way on board. He has a remote expression, distant, the best coping mechanism he knows.
Despite his air of aloofness, he's impeccably courteous as he greets Inara at her door, inclining his head respectfully. ]
Ms. Serra, thank you for agreeing to this engagement. I'm sure your time is precious.
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still, without any further hesitation or delay, inara gently stepped to the side to allow harold in and closed the door to her shuttle almost immediately after him. )
It's my pleasure, this time we will be spending together is far more precious, so please don't worry.
( moving behind him, inara began to guide him towards one of the more comfortable couches in her shuttle. once he seemed to follow her lead and take comfort in his own space, at his own pace, she began to move towards the pot of boiling water. )
I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing water for a proper tea ceremony. Do you have a preference? Green, black, oolong.....?
( with the handle of the pot in her hand, she began to walk over towards the coffee table in front of harold, guiding her free hand towards the assortment of tea already placed there for his benefit. the setup was professional and intended to allow him to smell the aroma of each bundle of tea leaves, with there being a setup for gongfu, accessories and all including a tea pet. there was a small plate next to the tray, offering an assortment of eastern snacks meant to aid in digestion and healthβ from dried jujube, dried persimmons, and other assortments.
in the meantime, she stood before him awaiting for his decision before she began the elaborate and correct process of brewing tea for this particular ceremony. )
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It's only the professionalism here that makes him brave enough to try. He's done everything he can to bury this encounter in a well-protected identity, the kind of thing no one would blink twice at Harold Crane engaging in. It's as safe as he could ever make it, hypothetically safer than he's been in ages. His background check on Inara and her shipmates was thorough.
Safety is such a foreign idea he doesn't know how to trust it, tries to cover his blip of awkwardness as he takes a seat and follows her invitation to examine the tea selection. He sets his cane to the side and unbuttons his jacket first -- proper etiquette while sitting -- and is in fact put more at ease by the familiar, comforting task of considering which tea to make, if in a much more elaborate setting than usual. ]
I'm partial to Japanese greens, [ he admits. ] This is an impressive arrangement. I confess I've never attended a traditional tea ceremony.
[ And he's obviously curious, interested in art and culture and fine food as always. It's nicely pulling him out of his morose thoughts and back to the present already. ]
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even if the end goal was that for most clients. )
Well Mr. Crane I'm certainly honored that I get to be the first to provide such an experience for you. I don't often entertain guests who know the subtleties and variances of Japanese green teas. How about a sencha to start you off with?
( it was suitable in a wayβ the blend of cultures and items in his setup given just how blended their world had become over the many years of humans colonizing the stars.
at his word she began to prepare everything for him, hands moving graceful almost as if she were moving the rhythm of a few piano notes being played. her eyes were concentrated on the task at hand at first, but soon she gazed up at him to give him every ounce of attention he had paid for. after all, at the end of the day this was all for him and so far he had been a pleasant guest. )
I do hope you find it suitable to your tastes, I find the balance of sweetness and bitterness makes for a perfect experience, leaving just a bit of aftertaste to remind you of what you just enjoyed....
( of course there's just the slightest bit of flirting in her words there, almost as if to say 'you'll taste me and I'll linger, haunting you leaving you yearning for more.'. )
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As it is, there's absolutely nothing about Inara to make Harold think she isn't enjoying herself or that he's burdening her somehow. Maybe there's a part of him that's still shocked he's doing this at all, can't believe he's gone through with it and now is looking for an excuse to run scared.
But he can't keep doing what he's been doing. He's just been so alone. ]
Sencha is my favorite, [ he admits, almost reluctantly. Harold is trying to maintain the decorum characteristic of the Crane persona but this personal admission comes off shy instead. He's been pushed to his limit lately and his acting skills, never phenomenal, aren't up to the task.
Being watched so attentively makes him shyer still, stiff and precisely held on the comfortable seat. He isn't able to meet her eyes, uses the convenient excuse of watching her slender hands delicately perform the tea ceremony to avoid eye contact, which he is at least truly interested in. Small mercies that it isn't espresso, or more aptly Turkish coffee in this type of setting. He hasn't been able to drink any type of coffee without thinking of Grace.
He needs to say something else and not just sit here like a dud fuse, he realizes. ]
I haven't made time for something like this in quite a while.
[ He used to, regularly. Before. He used to visit museums and attend orchestras and arrange for private dinners. Now there's nothing but a dark, desolate library that he finds himself wandering back to again and again, like he'll find some new trace of Nathan there. ]
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normally she didn't assume this because really it was part of the reason most people hired her, but she almost sensed there would be no true intimacy between the two. perhaps it was the air of nervousness and reservation he had, but she was sure there was something else about it. she wouldn't comment on it though or try to guess because despite being a woman who loved being in control, she truly wanted to see where this would go. would she be right? or would he prove her wrong?
for now though she checked on the tea and began to serve them both before idly shifting her gaze towards him with a soft smile. )
Well I'm glad you decided to do that today, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it. I'll certainly do my best to ensure it, after allβ
( and when the tea was prepared, she placed the cups in front of him before moving to sit near him, but not quite close. she would work her way towards that. )
Today is all about you. It's good to take moments like this for yourself though, so I hope you do find some time on your own and if I see you next time, I'd like to hear about it.
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But this setting and context is designed to have him let down his guard, and he'd willingly engaged in it, recognized that he needs to do something different and this is indeed different. There's an awkward tentative nature to how Harold cautiously lowers his walls a few inches at first.
Then the grief washes through like the tide taking a paltry sandcastle out to sea and he's helpless in the face of it. ]
I lost someone very dear to me recently.
[ It spills out of his mouth like water escaping from an unwatched pot boiling over. His hands find the tea cup and take it gently, automatically, but he's paralyzed by his own admission. ]
... I'm sorry. I sought you out because I'm afraid I'm not dealing with it well, [ what a laughable understatement, ] and I'm afraid of the repercussions. I'm not likely to make for good company, and if you wish to see other clientele instead I will fully understand.
[ He'd say he'd pay her fee regardless, but since he's already paid it in advance, that's moot. Harold can't stand the idea that someone is stuck listening to his sad sack pathetic excuses because they're waiting for their paycheck. He's so intensely private, he's mortified already at what he's said, fingers curling around the tea cup. ]
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in fact, she found herself more than willing to comfort him during such a difficult time, whether it was through simply speaking to each other, providing him a safe space to rest and mull over his pain, or something more physical, she was truly there for him. so she lifted her own tea cup up, eyes fixed on him as he went on before taking a small sip.
upon his words, stating he'd make for poor company and that she'd be better off with other clientele, she set her cup down and simply shook her head. he wasn't a child, he didn't need comforting lies from her so the words that came out of her were the simply truth. )
Mr. Finch, I'm very selective when it comes to the clients I take on and the people I choose to spend time with. There is no other client I'd rather be spending this time with.
( her words are a bit more firm, but sincere in their cantor. )
This is a place for you to relax and unwind, to speak to your heart's content and to share and withhold what you please. If that is how you wish to spend your time here, I am more than happy to listen. Will you tell me more? About this person? About....how you're feeling?
( across the table, she reached out gently, leaning in and placing her hand down to offer him a small touch if he'd accept it. )
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He's not sure he's ready for physical contact, but he might as well try. He hasn't touched anyone in comfort since...
Since he left Grace.
He settles his own hand tentatively, gingerly on hers. ] Point taken, [ he concedes, feeling a lump forming in his throat from suppressed emotion. ] He was my oldest and best friend, and my business partner.
I really... [ Harold breathes out around the intensity of feeling he's containing. ] I don't know what to do without him.
[ It was his fault he'd died, entirely his fault, and Harold is stuck there and can't move past it. ]
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so though the touch was simple, it was enough to make her feel like they were starting to connect. she had no promises of curing whatever was truly ailing him but she'd do her best to support him if that's what he sought out. )
It sounds like you are quite lost and confused without him. When you become so close to someone that their presence becomes second nature, it can be difficult to be without them. I'm so very sorry for your loss....truly I mean it.
( inara gently touched his skin, a soft sign of affection before she slipped away and continued with her own cup of tea. a brief moment of affection to tether them, to test the waters.
he's in control of how much he wants to share and indulgeβ it's the one thing inara wants to get across. )
How long did you know him for if I might ask?
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He hadn't given her a chance and then he'd tried to kill Alicia Corwin in the most shameful way imaginable, and the Machine kept ringing phones, kept reminding him in the only way he'd left available to it to reach out to him that he wasn't totally alone --
In the face of that, Harold can take someone's hand if that's what will prevent it from happening again. His palm veritably prickles at the sensation. He doesn't entertain physical contact much at all and never with someone on first meeting. It's disconcerting, strange. But as she pulls away he's also struck by how warm and soft her skin was against his, how that physical sensation is a bright lodestone against the murky swimming seas of his mind, so easy to get lost in and the contact a landmark against it. ]
Since college. For decades.
[ Even that much is not something Harold tells people, has never told them. Grace didn't know Nathan existed; Nathan learned Grace existed when he proposed, for God's sake. Harold doesn't know how to not protect himself. ]
I'm a very private person, [ he confesses in a soft tone, ] and he knew me in every way that mattered. I depended on him to feel connected to the world. [ Wryly, trying to recover some humor, uncomfortable with his own vulnerability: ] Perceptive of you to call me lost and confused without him.
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no most of them sought something they couldn't find elsewhere. a type of comfort that no one else could understand and if they could, it was the kind of pain they couldn't share with people they knew. the familiarity felt too vulnerable, it was easier to turn to a stranger, and it was something inara understood far too well.
as he spoke, she immediately agreed within her mind that he did seem privateβ after all, he'd been quite discreet in contacting her and while she was in no rush to make him do anything beyond what he felt comfortable with, there was a still energy in the room. thankfully he seemed to buoy it with that little quip.
so with a softer expression, she smiled at him and finally lifted her cup of tea. )
It's not a fault by the way, it's okay to feel lost and confused sometimes but I suppose I have a sharp eye.
( she's match his own humor with hers, but she's keeping a level of control here as well. )
Our world is quite large isn't it? Full of unknowns and inconceivable things....that's why I created this space to be like this. I can connect to the world on my own terms and still have somewhere to escape to and recover. Have you considered doing that?
( it could be here with her, continuing these sessions but even if he opted not to, she felt he could benefit from such a thing. a small space for him to escape to. )