The silence was prolonged and unsettling, though she couldn’t say if that was more her own making or a general consequence of the emotion of the day and topic. Paulie did know she wish she could see his face, that she didn’t turn away and so now in this silence, she could read what it meant to him. Yet, she didn’t make a move to turn back, instead just drumming her fingertips against her arms wanting to fiddle with her hands nervously as she waited, but the chill prevented her from uncrossing her arms. When he finally spoke, a soft answer of uncertainty, she let out a breath she admittedly didn’t know she was holding. She wasn’t entirely as relieved as the departure of air would suggest, his words certainly didn’t push her to an idea of what the right thing to do was, but maybe they didn’t have a right answer and could only ever guess. Like he’d said there wasn’t much experience with it, Paulie knew Fabian witnessed Gideon’s death, but she didn’t know if being there had made life after harder or not. Even if she had known that fact Connor was a different person, one she didn’t know nearly as well as she did Fabian. “ No, don’t be sorry, I asked and you just gave the answer that came to mind.” Paulie quietly reassured finally turning herself to look at him, examining him trying to come to a conclusion. The death had clearly rattled him, she couldn’t blame him for that, any loss can do that, but a loss of a sibling and one you walked your whole life with was unimaginable. Maybe it wasn’t protecting him not telling him, maybe it was.. but it certainly didn’t look like it and if she could relieve some of the agonizing maybe she should. “ I was there.” She admitted quickly before she had convinced herself out of it.” I was with him, with Clark when he was attacked.” Paulie added, though the words were struggling to get out at that point, a strain in her throat trying to prevent her from saying more.
The use of was when talking about someone who’d just gone always stung. It was an expected transition, but it always felt weird, so easy to trip over and one that leaves such an ache to correct. Connor hadn’t tripped over it really, but the sentence brought her attention to it and elevated the bittersweetness of its sentiment. “If that’s the case, maybe he’ll stick around, knock over some mugs, and flicker some lights so you can escape crowds, and keep the attention on him.” It wasn’t exactly the place for humor, and her tone probably expressed such being such half-hearted at the attempt.” Until then, if you need the attention taken away today I could probably help, you don’t spend as much time with the Prewett twins as I have without learning how to make a distraction.” Again she waved off his apology, she really wasn’t the concern of the day and he shouldn’t have to apologize for how he handled the day. Most didn’t handle these days perfectly, and if they did it usually was just a mask hiding what they were feeling. “ Downer is kind of your job description of the day, you don’t need to be sorry for it, you deserve to feel how you do and express it.”
In another time he would have asked Paulie if she was okay. He didn’t think that she knew Clark, at least not well. Marlene had always been possessive over her friends, and he didn’t think that she and Paulie had been friends for all that long, although they seem to have gotten close fast from what he had seen. Funerals were sad. He had been sad at Gideon’s funeral. And maybe that was what this was -- or maybe it was his fault too. She certainly wouldn’t have been the first to look uncomfortable around him. The curse of losing your identical twin. The brighter, more extraverted, friendlier, better twin. The one people would miss. The one everyone was surely wishing was still here over Connor. He knew that he was wishing that.
But when she spoke he understood -- it was his fault that she was acting uncomfortable, but not because he reminded her of Clark’s life... but because he brought back memories of his death she’d rather not remember. If he believed in a god he’d almost have to laugh at his sense of humor. For days he had done nothing but desperately wished he knew what had happened to his brother, for days he had been lost to the guilt and the questions. And now as he had the answers within his reach he knew that he couldn’t ask her to recount what she saw. He had studied Inferi the same as any Hogwarts student, listened to the ways they killed those they came across with the passive fascination of someone listening to a spooky story. He knew what they did -- what they must have done to Clark. As much as he desperately needed the details for closure, he wouldn’t ask her to recount them. “Oh.” Was all he could manage. He sat there in silence for a long time before saying anything else. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” But even he could hear what those words cost him to say.
“Marlene tried this morning,” he laughed quietly. “Mum was fussing over me and she did something -- I didn’t check but it sounded like she threw a load of quaffles down the stairs. That’s why they fought a lot,” his voice dipped. “Mar and Clark. They were too much alike, although neither would admit it.”
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