Here, it doesn't seem to matter much at all. The same way his blood doesn't matter. Their world isn't so forgiving, ready to turn on anyone who is 'different' in a way that could be seen as dangerous.
Arthur grew up in that time and place, same as him. But Charles didn't have that hate in him, and there was no reason to believe Arthur would. He saw people for who they were, in their hearts, first and foremost.
"But he accepted me for who I was when few others would. That might still be true. I think it would be," he says at last, slowly. "He's a good man.
Angel nods slowly, just trusting Charles was hard, if only because it was her terrible way to just make things the way they needed to be without asking. Could find this 'Arthur' and run him hell for leather in questions until she was satisfied.
But hard as it was against her nature, that wasn't her place. If Charles said it was fine - then it would be fine. Easing her breath out.
"Okay. If you're sure. But if he makes you guys sad... I'll bite him."
He half-chuckles, knowing full well that with Angel? That's no idle threat.
"Please don't bite him," he requests solemnly instead, before clasping her hand tightly once more. "Then I'll be sad all over again. And I can't recommend biting yourself."
As light as he's making of in the moment, there is still that heavy sense of uncertainty. Probably better to tell Arthur about everything sooner rather than later. But for a time, it had been nice to just remember how things had been. How simple.
Angel settles with him, a comfortable tactiliness she found easy with him, even now. Perhaps because he was the first person to do so when arriving in a new place, for once Jack free. The first person she had been able to open up to. But she didn't question either way now: just draped against his side, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"Alright, no biting. As long as you promise to let me know if it's getting hard with his adjusting." Because to say she didn't trust people at face value was something of an understatement.
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Here, it doesn't seem to matter much at all. The same way his blood doesn't matter. Their world isn't so forgiving, ready to turn on anyone who is 'different' in a way that could be seen as dangerous.
Arthur grew up in that time and place, same as him. But Charles didn't have that hate in him, and there was no reason to believe Arthur would. He saw people for who they were, in their hearts, first and foremost.
"But he accepted me for who I was when few others would. That might still be true. I think it would be," he says at last, slowly. "He's a good man.
no subject
But hard as it was against her nature, that wasn't her place. If Charles said it was fine - then it would be fine. Easing her breath out.
"Okay. If you're sure. But if he makes you guys sad... I'll bite him."
no subject
"Please don't bite him," he requests solemnly instead, before clasping her hand tightly once more. "Then I'll be sad all over again. And I can't recommend biting yourself."
As light as he's making of in the moment, there is still that heavy sense of uncertainty. Probably better to tell Arthur about everything sooner rather than later. But for a time, it had been nice to just remember how things had been. How simple.
He doesn't miss that life, necessarily. But.
no subject
"Alright, no biting. As long as you promise to let me know if it's getting hard with his adjusting." Because to say she didn't trust people at face value was something of an understatement.