#brought to you by the frankly unnecessary amount of stress i am under right now... :(

[onesnoopyaday]

Snoopy #12

13/10/2024

[rickiedevron]

The Three Terrible Lessons

                               Follow up from this post.

                                                                          The following story was                                                                           written from a roleplay                                                                  between @the-cleaner-wra and I!

Mentiones: @braxtonhudson @piercetheliving

                       Music

“I’ve learned two bitter lessons tonight, Mister Worthshire...”

It seemed as though her heavy thoughts of grief dragging down her mood was terribly noticeable. She could feel the eyes upon her, the eyes of the man which had initially offered the cigarette -- which Rickie currently stuck between her sneering teeth.

She couldn’t will herself to hold his gaze, knowing very well if she did he’d see the broken soul within through her sad eyes. That alone made her absolutely disgusted with herself. Rickie loathed this feeling of regret, of guilt. It was a crushing weight that hung off her slumped shoulders and coiled around her throat, suffocating her in the same instance as breaking her spine.

It was disruptive.

Perhaps that was what lead Connor to beckon Rickie to the Hudson Clinic, how suddenly her lack of attention had become. Perhaps that was why she could feel a heartfelt conversation was just around the corner, now that both adults had found a comfortable seat within the vacant, quiet clinic.

Connor, upon sitting down, would unbutton his suit jacket, hesitating as he’d begun reaching. Pointedly the Cleaned held open the flack of his jacket, showing Rickie his hand. 

"I'm setting my pistol on the dresser, as I'm certain I won't need it,” he stated simply, before reaching in and doing exactly that.

Upon relaxing in that comfortable chair, two fluffy Gilnean cats peaked out from under it, mewling quietly. Next, Connor addresses her, "Now, Miss Devron, I must admit I'm quite intrigued... What lessons did you learn that has you so distraught?"

Slowly the woman brought one of her legs up onto the table with her, fixing the groove of the heel of her boot against the edge of the table. The gesture brought her some delight, stretching the joints momentarily distracting her. She'd curl her arm around her thigh and calf, pressing her cheek atop the knee before taking a deep mouthful of smoke from the half-destroyed cigarette.

With that exhale of smoke would her silence be broken after: "The first I learned is that if a man -- let alone a woman -- can't respect your career or your choices, they're definitely not the one."

The words were stressed and strained, carried from a heartbroken woman’s lips.

He listened intently, hands folded on his lap, with his legs crossed.  Nodding slowly, he offered a small smile,  "That is quite true, Miss Devron, an amicable partnership requires understanding, and respect, for both parties," he dipped his head low, "Did they judge you for something?"

Calmly Rickie lifted her head from her knee. For a moment she simply stared at the burning end of her midnight cigarette, a storm rolling through her eyes as she recounted the conversation that had her so mixed up. "He judged me for choosing my suit over him.”

She’d flick her cigarette, Connor remaining silent as she continued.

“He said I was letting myself live in chains or something like that... All cause I broke up with him -- I never explained -why- I was breaking up with him, though... Just that..," she'd hesitate, beginning to roll her eyes before huffing out, "I just told him I wanted to focus on work."

"Truth of the matter was," she expresses, "Desmond got me thinking about some shit he said a while back-- that it's not good to be a suit and date someone, or something like that. Because then that person's life gets put in danger, and they become your weakness. And I believed him--," she shrugs, flicking her cigarette's ash away, "It made sense. Not that I could tell Damon that shit, though.."

"In chains... That's quite a tall claim," Connor said with a hum, leaning his head back against the cushion of the chair, thoughtful for a moment,  "Many people find that when they can not control the livelihood of their partners, they grow jealous, envious even, over it." 

He smiled lightly, regarding her for a moment,  "And what Desmond said...  It's true, as I am sure you've seen," he motioned to himself. "However-," holding up a finger, he dipped his head forth and stated,  "Holding a relationship whilst in the position that we are requires discipline, discretion, and a tremendous amount of care.  And, while you may show that discretion and discipline as to keep the relationship clandestine, others may grow frustrated with it.  I agree with Mister Pierce mostly on that statement- but it's not just because it becomes -your- weakness."  He'd reach into his suit jacket to procure the tin of cigarillos, plucking one for himself and lighting it.  "Let us use a hypothetical situation."

Watchful brown eyes kept their hold upon Connor, eager to hear his advice -- Already Rickie could feel the stress beginning to melt from her muscles. She no longer felt terribly overwhelmed with the idea that the break up was entirely her fault.

Connor took a few puffs idly, humming in thought,  "Let us say we are on business, and you were injured, killed, or taken captive.  Many in the company may know what happened, however, I'm sure you notice we keep much of our information in-house, so to speak.  Let us say for hypothetical reasons your lover is outside the company, doesn't understand, gets angry that we aren't discussing what happens.  They begin to make a scene.  It draws attention- unwanted attention."  He waved his hand lightly. 

Rickie’s lips pulled into a firm line, grimacing at the thought of such a hysteria. She could see it herself-- A man screaming into the face of Braxton Hudson himself that he endangered the life of Rickie. She could also foresee the punishment that would follow if she were ever to return home after such a shit show.

"It puts your co-workers and the company in danger of investigation and brings about unnecessary suspicion,"  Connor regarded quietly,  "It is very difficult, this life we lead, Miss Devron.  For some, more difficult than others.  However, if I must say, despite your faults,” Rickie’s eyes narrow for a moment, though Connor continues as he wasn’t affected by such a look, “With what you said if it's the truth... You did the right thing.  Mister Hudson isn't a slave driver, he is a businessman.  Quite frankly the best that I've worked for, and I don't say that for simple flattery."

Dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, the foot atop the table's edge would begin to tap idly at the air, lifting her free palm to her hand only to lick the flesh before fizzling out the burning end of her cigar, snuffing it out now that all the tobacco had been smoked.

"All around, I know for damn sure this decision was the best I've made in some ten years. I'm saying so in case you're wondering if I regret it--," she'd purse her lips and shake her head, "The only thing I regret about tonight is he wasn't able to see my end of things, didn't wanna be friends and try to work this shit out slowly, rebuild on a foundation of trust. He wanted to pull his mask back on and get to fucking work-- Some shit about bodyguards and assassin's not mixing well together," she snorts.

He looked to her and smiled, nodding lightly.  "Good."  He said with a deep nod.  "As for him not understanding your end of things, it always happens.  There will be disagreements where you both dig your heels in the sand and not give way- however...,” He frowned, furrowing his brows lightly.  "You said that he was arguing about your job?  What points was he trying to make against it?"

"Stupid shit really. I was trying to help him, you know? He wanted to get outta a specific line of business, and I was offering him advice regarding how I last saw him act in a fucking interview... You remember him, I'm certain-- He seemed to really push your buttons. Damon, that--," she hesitates before sighing, "'Master assassin, among other things'?” Connor blinked, a grim expression overcoming his features, and instantly Rickie would begin to nod, “Yeah, I was trying to get him to... Dial it down and be a little more mundane -- He got real uppity, started blaming everyone else that they all point fingers at him and assume.”

“My telling him to try wearing more mundane clothes like a suit or some shit turned into Mister Hudson's a fool for letting us walk around unprotected and without armor-- Just..," she shook her head, "He got real mouthy--... Now that i think back on it, I dunno what I saw in him."

Connor rose his brows and clicked his teeth, tugging a clay ashtray over and tapping the cigarillo idly.  "Oh, I do remember him.  I was quite appalled that he was so upfront and forthcoming about what he did... and expected to get a job with a Shipping Company advertising like that."  He blinked and shook his head.  "I introduced myself as a tailor, handed Mister Hudson a portfolio of my work, and well-" he waggled his hands lightly with a chuckle.  "Here I am... As for unprotected, I'd think all of our skills do twice over what armor could."  He smiled lightly.  "We are not a mercenary band, after all."  He offered her a friendly smile.  "I've always found, however, that those who make excuses for their behavior are always the ones that don't improve.  It is why I make no excuses.  If I blunder, I assure my employer that I will do better, and then prove such by acting."  He dipped his head.

With a small bob of the head, Rickie would begin to smile. It was clearly a more genuine gesture as the duo fell into a comfortable silence, one that was ultimately disturbed by a quirky browed Connor who motioned toward Rickie.

“However I must admit I'm concerned with the one statement you quoted him for... Assassins and Bodyguards don't mix well..."  He furrowed his brows, thinning his lips.  "Had his behavior against Mister Hudson begun when he was spurned?"

Slowly she'd straighten her posture, mouth going dry as she remarks, "I think so. He did say that, uh... Our paths were at a fork, or something like that. That where we left it was the last time we should ever meet. I dunno how promising that sounds, but I don't picture him to be a fool, going after Mister Hudson."

He nodded slowly.  "I certainly hope not.  I've always found that those who have to brag they're master assassins-" he leaned in to whisper loudly.  "Usually aren't master assassins."  He nodded sagely, giving her the 'ok' symbol with his hand.  "My second most concern, however, is also this- was he angry enough to come after you?"  He asked, tilting his head, sitting up.  "I know many do not like me, Miss Devron, I am prudish, shrewd, strictly business much of my time- however... You are a co-worker, and part of the company I am loyal to.  Which means that regardless of either of our opinions, I will do what I must to ensure your safety."

Swallowing heavily, Rickie's eyes drop down to her hands. She was quiet for a moment, though when she would speak her voice was far less shaky, more conviction and confidence to her tone whilst stating firmly: "He wouldn't come after me. I don't think so, at least. If he felt an ounce of what I did for him, he'd be in too much pain just with the thought of me, so... Gods forbid there come a day where suddenly he loses his humanity and does come after me. That'll be the day I resolve my heartbreak and gun him down without a second thought."

He eyed the woman gently, before offering a smirk.  "Good."  He nodded curtly, adjusting his suit idly- it was a tick of his, it seemed.  "No woman or man should have to live in fear of a former lover, so long as you don't think that he will do you harm, I will be content.  However, if you notice he is following you, or you feel threatened, or are confronted by him, I want you to tell me immediately."

He regarded her for a moment, sighing lightly.  "You said you learned a second lesson, however?"

With a single nod she'd remark, "My second lesson this evening, I think, is that... What isn't meant to be will never last, and it's recognizing that it wasn't meant to be that lessens the heartache. Do you think that makes sense?" Her eyes move to inspect Connor now, "I may have read into this entire evening all wrong, of course. But in a sense... I did learn things can't last forever."

"No, that is a valuable lesson to learn as well, Miss Devron.  The moment we begin to cling to things that we know isn't meant to be is the moment we compromise ourselves and do ourselves an injustice.  Life is fleeting, for some it ages.  However we humans are met with a life far shorter than some.  When we cling to things that tear us apart we waste valuable time for what we could be devoting to more meaningful connections and companions."  He dipped his head lightly.  "Were you fighting often, before you finally decided to part ways?"

Her mind was a buzz with thoughts and his remarks, digesting it all as best as she could and as quickly. Alas, rather than delve and hesitate too long, she'd bring her attention back to Connor. With risen brows and parted lips she sighs, shaking her head,

"Not at all. It was the honeymoon phase, we barely made it a full week, if I'm honest. I went in purely out of excitement-- We clicked so damned well, I thought we coulda really been something. But the more I think about it the more I wonder if that was just me being eager to settle down.”

Oh how foolish she felt...

With a pitiful laugh the woman pushes herself up from the table, fingers combing through her hair, shoulders raising up in a shrug, "Gods, I sound like a love-struck teenager-- This is all over a guy I knew for, under a fucking month, that's pathetic as shit."

Connor smirked.

"I understand that,"  he mumbled under his breath, before he took a deep inhale and let it out slowly.  "Did he ask you to be involved with him, or did you ask him? And Miss Devron, affection has an uncanny way of making us irrational.  It happens to the best of us.  Especially when the attachment is strong.  Do not blame yourself or put yourself down for being human.  You are not me, after all."  He smiled, tilting his head lightly- a jest about himself, “Afterall... I judge myself too harshly for putting too much sugar in my tea."

Quirking a corner of her mouth upward, Rickie would manage a slight chuckle in response to the jesting, though she'd promptly bring herself to straighten up and regather her composure, staring toward the ceiling now. "Hm..," she smirks, seeming to reminisce, "If I recall correctly... I initiated it all. I asked him out on our first date-- Got the ball rolling."

Connor nodded,  "Then you learned something else, as well- in all of this."  He smirked small,  "Don't move so quickly, and always rationalize your feelings."

And suddenly it felt as though all the breath had been knocked from her lungs, all of the pressure upon her shoulders lifted in an instant. It overwhelmed the woman, how she didn’t feel so strained and struggling-- she could actually breathe now. 

It was with a shaky breath that she'd turn toward Connor, her lips pressing into a firm line before admitting, "I think... I think I'm ready to retire, for tonight, Mister Worthshire. I don't mean to be abrupt about it."

"You are quite fine, Miss Devron, it is rather late."  He stood up, leaving the pistol on the dresser as he moved to the door.  "Do be careful, and remember, if he starts to follow or harass you, do let me know.  I don't much like those who intimidate their former lovers.  It's bad form.“

Quietly she'd gather the paper wrapped sandwich into her hands, offering Connor a small smile in her approach for the door, "Thanks for hearing me out, by the by. Not often I get to rant or vent my feelings to someone-- This was a good therapy session--, Evenin’, Mister Worthshire."

A smile was shared between the polar opposites, Rickie the first to turn away by prying open the door to the clinic and closing it behind her. Long, purposeful strides carried her to the Cathedral district, her head held high and shoulders squared once again.