[ What a question to ask. Sciel does really smile this time, but it's an almost exasperated thing, and she even rolls her eyes. ]
Gustave, is that really what you think?
[ That Maelle wouldn't forgive him for breaking his word to her, and for trying to fight for her safety? What a ridiculous notion. She's watched Maelle grieve and close up, open again; she's watched her steadfast and dogged determination in wanting that man to pay for what he's done. And while she knows Gustave wouldn't want Maelle to endanger herself for him, for his legacy, for some kind of revenge...
Well, they all want to see a form of justice. And Renoir has been an obstacle to them since the moment they stepped on the beach. There is no other path.
Sciel moves so she can sit beside Gustave, shoulders bumping. ]
Y'know when Pierre died... [ She trails off. It's heavy on her chest. ] ...when he died, I was angry for a time. At him.
[ For leaving her. For getting involved in such an accident. For not being more careful. For all of the little, inane, useless things that he couldn't control, because those things took him from her. ]
I can't speak for Maelle. But I wasn't ever really mad at him, you know? I was hurting that we ran out of time before we were ready. Before the inevitable. [ The time when he would have gommaged, which is what they had planned for. ] Even if she is angry, and I bet she's not, it's... It's just love, Gustave.
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Gustave, is that really what you think?
[ That Maelle wouldn't forgive him for breaking his word to her, and for trying to fight for her safety? What a ridiculous notion. She's watched Maelle grieve and close up, open again; she's watched her steadfast and dogged determination in wanting that man to pay for what he's done. And while she knows Gustave wouldn't want Maelle to endanger herself for him, for his legacy, for some kind of revenge...
Well, they all want to see a form of justice. And Renoir has been an obstacle to them since the moment they stepped on the beach. There is no other path.
Sciel moves so she can sit beside Gustave, shoulders bumping. ]
Y'know when Pierre died... [ She trails off. It's heavy on her chest. ] ...when he died, I was angry for a time. At him.
[ For leaving her. For getting involved in such an accident. For not being more careful. For all of the little, inane, useless things that he couldn't control, because those things took him from her. ]
I can't speak for Maelle. But I wasn't ever really mad at him, you know? I was hurting that we ran out of time before we were ready. Before the inevitable. [ The time when he would have gommaged, which is what they had planned for. ] Even if she is angry, and I bet she's not, it's... It's just love, Gustave.