[ talk about a bittersweet emotion going through him right now. it was good to see her. really good, even if it was not too long ago they had apparently died together. he had passed on a few hours before her, so even if she had just arrived here recently, Bigby had some time to get familiar. familiar enough to know that a bar exists and a pool table was to be found, anyway.
but then there's the fact that he had failed her. he wanted nothing more than to make sure she lived along with the rest of Apartment #7. a promise means nothing if he can't uphold it, regardless of how hard he tried. maybe he should have argued with Rhys more. maybe he should have just killed him after all of the bullshit he's put the others through. none of that matters now, though. Bigby's large arms are hugging around her for dear life, as if he wouldn't allow her to even think of moving.
she's able to, though. one way or another, she wriggles out of his grasp and he's given a sharp reminder of the fact he can still somehow feel when she smacks the fuck out of his face. Bigby looks at her with a bit of bewilderment, but it sobers up completely when she slaps him the second time. she lectures him for his mistakes and all he can do is reach a hand up to squeeze her wrist. it's a mirror of the first time they argued, and he almost alarmed himself in thinking her hand was still busted. he looks down to ensure she was okay before tightening his grip, pulling it away from his face while his other hand goes for her remaining one. just in case she has any ideas. ]
Hey. None of that. I made my decision long ago that I was going to try and keep you alive. My only regret is that I couldn't fucking do it. You understand me? I've fucked up plenty, but I didn't fuck up when it came to you.
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but then there's the fact that he had failed her. he wanted nothing more than to make sure she lived along with the rest of Apartment #7. a promise means nothing if he can't uphold it, regardless of how hard he tried. maybe he should have argued with Rhys more. maybe he should have just killed him after all of the bullshit he's put the others through. none of that matters now, though. Bigby's large arms are hugging around her for dear life, as if he wouldn't allow her to even think of moving.
she's able to, though. one way or another, she wriggles out of his grasp and he's given a sharp reminder of the fact he can still somehow feel when she smacks the fuck out of his face. Bigby looks at her with a bit of bewilderment, but it sobers up completely when she slaps him the second time. she lectures him for his mistakes and all he can do is reach a hand up to squeeze her wrist. it's a mirror of the first time they argued, and he almost alarmed himself in thinking her hand was still busted. he looks down to ensure she was okay before tightening his grip, pulling it away from his face while his other hand goes for her remaining one. just in case she has any ideas. ]
Hey. None of that. I made my decision long ago that I was going to try and keep you alive. My only regret is that I couldn't fucking do it. You understand me? I've fucked up plenty, but I didn't fuck up when it came to you.