She wants— fuck, she doesn't know what she wants. Wants to get up, pace around the room, feel her knees flex— wants to curl her hand into a fist and fling it where it doesn't belong; crack, flake, split the drywall— wants to shoot the Counselor wherever he's standing, right now; face gored, glass painted a disgusting sanguine. Who's to blame for this? Whose idea? His, or the Director's? How the hell did you not see?
"It's bullshit," she snarls pointlessly. "It doesn't make any sense. What insight is there that we don't already know? That people crack under pressure? That— that when you kick someone when they're down- when you keep kicking them over and over again- they perform worse? Hate themselves more? Of course we know that. Years worth of time and energy just for them to point to the sky and say it's blue—"
She's up now, crossing the distance between sofa and staircase, circling back. Questions with no real answer. No answer Connecticut can give— and nothing she'll ever rend out of the Counselor or Director's mouths. But she'll try. She'll goddamn try, with metal pliers and all.
She passes fingers through her bangs, palm to forehead.
"I wouldn't count on things getting better very quickly. South's..." she rolls her lips inward, thinks through her words. "...Struggling. Really struggling. And I'm trying. With the right encouragement, I know she'll pull it together, but. Well. You know her better than I do." A beat. "I didn't know it was this bad."
CT stays comparatively stock-still, sat there watching the frustrated energy burst out of Carolina in a rush of aimless motion. Sometimes she wishes she were as prone to physical reaction as the other women of Alpha Squad have always seemed to be—though South most of all, of course.
"There's no way you could've known. Even I couldn't prove anything until I found it in writing, and I was the one she actually talked to me about what she felt was happening. And even then, she didn't seem to really... believe herself? She was always so determined to fix it. To earn her way back."
It never worked, it never could have worked, but she tried. Right up until the day CT left, she remembers how stubbornly South tried, no matter how much it left her feeling worse at the end of the day for the lack of return.
She sighs. "...so, no, I'm not surprised she's doing badly. She's— a lot more sensitive than she'd like people to know, which I'm sure you've seen by now. She feels everything with the strength of a damn atom bomb and sometimes it catches other people in the blast radius. I'm surprised she even came to you for help."
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Date: 2026-01-13 08:44 pm (UTC)"This is bullshit."
She wants— fuck, she doesn't know what she wants. Wants to get up, pace around the room, feel her knees flex— wants to curl her hand into a fist and fling it where it doesn't belong; crack, flake, split the drywall— wants to shoot the Counselor wherever he's standing, right now; face gored, glass painted a disgusting sanguine. Who's to blame for this? Whose idea? His, or the Director's? How the hell did you not see?
"It's bullshit," she snarls pointlessly. "It doesn't make any sense. What insight is there that we don't already know? That people crack under pressure? That— that when you kick someone when they're down- when you keep kicking them over and over again- they perform worse? Hate themselves more? Of course we know that. Years worth of time and energy just for them to point to the sky and say it's blue—"
She's up now, crossing the distance between sofa and staircase, circling back. Questions with no real answer. No answer Connecticut can give— and nothing she'll ever rend out of the Counselor or Director's mouths. But she'll try. She'll goddamn try, with metal pliers and all.
She passes fingers through her bangs, palm to forehead.
"I wouldn't count on things getting better very quickly. South's..." she rolls her lips inward, thinks through her words. "...Struggling. Really struggling. And I'm trying. With the right encouragement, I know she'll pull it together, but. Well. You know her better than I do." A beat. "I didn't know it was this bad."
Another beat. Longer.
"I had no idea."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-13 09:21 pm (UTC)CT stays comparatively stock-still, sat there watching the frustrated energy burst out of Carolina in a rush of aimless motion. Sometimes she wishes she were as prone to physical reaction as the other women of Alpha Squad have always seemed to be—though South most of all, of course.
"There's no way you could've known. Even I couldn't prove anything until I found it in writing, and I was the one she actually talked to me about what she felt was happening. And even then, she didn't seem to really... believe herself? She was always so determined to fix it. To earn her way back."
It never worked, it never could have worked, but she tried. Right up until the day CT left, she remembers how stubbornly South tried, no matter how much it left her feeling worse at the end of the day for the lack of return.
She sighs. "...so, no, I'm not surprised she's doing badly. She's— a lot more sensitive than she'd like people to know, which I'm sure you've seen by now. She feels everything with the strength of a damn atom bomb and sometimes it catches other people in the blast radius. I'm surprised she even came to you for help."