[ she's thinking about it too - about the distance she'd been an equal part in keeping. that she'd kept up because she hadn't thought this would be anything, because she wouldn't still be here. the truth is, beyond even that, a part of her was too scared for it to be anything, mean anything. it's impossible for her to think about logan, about how much she is depending on him, on how much this has been equal parts simple enjoying as it has been a need. steady ground. a safe place.
it feels... odd, in a way, to be the open offering all this to him. to be the one in charge of whether or not this is known. her life, her mistakes, back in vermont felt as much everyone else's story as her own. a newspaper article that foggy and matt had done when they hired her, clippings that ben had showed her in some show that he knew, that he understood. sometimes it had been used by her to get a interview subject to open up, to show the harsher truth of what can happen, if you don't take control of your truth.
but that's not what this is. karen isn't telling logan all of this for some transaction, or even for a kind of leveling of the playing field. instead, it feels like she's offering this part of her to him, hoping that he feels comfortable in offering something of him to her in return. but even as she hopes, a part of karen recognizes that logan doesn't have to say anything at all in return, and she won't regret it. that part knows that as much as she wants to know about him (and she does, god she wants to know-) she also just wants him to know her.
when logan's eyes travel back to her face, she is still watching him - without expectation, with patience, waiting to see what it is he'll do. when he starts, she listens, and continues to as he goes on. she gets the feeling he's not exactly used to opening up like this, details and aspects of the story he's probably leaving out, but as he says a lot of them didn't have anywhere to go, either something in her expression shifts. she knows how that feels, even if it came to her much later in life. she does remember charles talking about a school, a school for gifted young, and despite what logan said easier about how it is charles who he's been sharing a room with, she somehow didn't... expect to hear that logan would have been staying at the school. they kind of grew on me gets a soft sort of smile from her, fond in a way, though she doesn't know these kids, has no context for what they're like. it was good he says, and karen thinks she understands. thinks she picks up on the was, what he might mean, how he might feel.
her smile fades at his next words, and she remembers what logan said before, the way he'd talked about his home, what he'd been fighting. ]
When you said, before, about the war on your doorstep... [ she's not necessarily looking for an answer.
she blinks, and for half a moment she sees frank in a hospital bed. sees frank, covered in blood. sees frank, talking about his children, shaking from how it hurts. she doesn't need to know what happened to them to feel it in her chest, to know that there's nothing she can really say about any of it that will help. so instead, without really thinking about it, she reaches across the space between the bed and the couch (it isn't much, the couch barely even fits in the room, but she does still have to reach) and sets her hand on his. ]
no subject
it feels... odd, in a way, to be the open offering all this to him. to be the one in charge of whether or not this is known. her life, her mistakes, back in vermont felt as much everyone else's story as her own. a newspaper article that foggy and matt had done when they hired her, clippings that ben had showed her in some show that he knew, that he understood. sometimes it had been used by her to get a interview subject to open up, to show the harsher truth of what can happen, if you don't take control of your truth.
but that's not what this is. karen isn't telling logan all of this for some transaction, or even for a kind of leveling of the playing field. instead, it feels like she's offering this part of her to him, hoping that he feels comfortable in offering something of him to her in return. but even as she hopes, a part of karen recognizes that logan doesn't have to say anything at all in return, and she won't regret it. that part knows that as much as she wants to know about him (and she does, god she wants to know-) she also just wants him to know her.
when logan's eyes travel back to her face, she is still watching him - without expectation, with patience, waiting to see what it is he'll do. when he starts, she listens, and continues to as he goes on. she gets the feeling he's not exactly used to opening up like this, details and aspects of the story he's probably leaving out, but as he says a lot of them didn't have anywhere to go, either something in her expression shifts. she knows how that feels, even if it came to her much later in life. she does remember charles talking about a school, a school for gifted young, and despite what logan said easier about how it is charles who he's been sharing a room with, she somehow didn't... expect to hear that logan would have been staying at the school. they kind of grew on me gets a soft sort of smile from her, fond in a way, though she doesn't know these kids, has no context for what they're like. it was good he says, and karen thinks she understands. thinks she picks up on the was, what he might mean, how he might feel.
her smile fades at his next words, and she remembers what logan said before, the way he'd talked about his home, what he'd been fighting. ]
When you said, before, about the war on your doorstep... [ she's not necessarily looking for an answer.
she blinks, and for half a moment she sees frank in a hospital bed. sees frank, covered in blood. sees frank, talking about his children, shaking from how it hurts. she doesn't need to know what happened to them to feel it in her chest, to know that there's nothing she can really say about any of it that will help. so instead, without really thinking about it, she reaches across the space between the bed and the couch (it isn't much, the couch barely even fits in the room, but she does still have to reach) and sets her hand on his. ]