In that case, it's good that you're on a prison Barge with a high concentration of altruistic idiots. Only a few wardens fit the cruel and self-interested category—myself included, of course.
Do they treat you the same because everybody is a horrible shithead or do they treat you the same because you go into every conversation assuming everybody is a horrible shithead?
Oh, no, if I go into a conversation assuming we're going to get along, they make sure to make it clear that they have no interest in that and we're not going to be friends.
And I'm saying that it probably is, you're just refusing to admit it. If the entire world is out to get you or reacts to you in the same way, then the problem isn't the entire world: it's you.
One, you do so have a persecution complex. You need to have more self-confidence, darling. And two, we would have ended up just having a lovely evening with drinks, shooting the shit, and marginally less bitching.
[ He raises a little eyebrow before saying, in a slightly mean Misty impression, ]
Hi, my name's Misty Quigley, I'm scared that when more people learn about our secrets it'll ruin what I have with my girlfriend and she won't like me anymore.
[ Dorian adjusts his Misty impression, this time making it a bit less squeaky. ]
Hi, my name's Misty Quigley with better self-confidence. I've realized that it doesn't matter who learns about my secrets because I know myself and I know Natalie and the rest of the Barge learning about our fucked up plane crash or whatever it is doesn't matter. We look out for each other, she trusts me, I trust her, and nothing anybody says or does could change it.
It's both. Confidence in others that they won't think less of you, and confidence in yourself that if they do get a little stupid about it and do attack you for it, you can weather the storm.
An expert at weathering that storm because you had a cute little group to be a part of. [ at least, that's what he's assuming based on Misty 'I started this conversation talking about how I want a really intense friends group' Quigley. ]
How many of you survived that plane crash back home? At least two, probably more? Certainly more than your cute little group here of Natalie, Pagan, you, and me—and even then, your cute little group here is rocky at best.
[God, Dorian. Are you going to make her say out loud the thing she doesn't even like thinking about too hard? Extremely rude.
Or she could lie. She could tell him that he's right, that they're all so close-knit, that they all definitely love talking to her and keeping in close contact.
She doesn't answer, not immediately, but the indecision plays out across her face.]
[ Dorian doesn't say anything for a bit, mostly because he suspects he's right. Instead, he takes the silence to top off Misty's wineglass before quietly asking, ]
Others exist. But Nat's the only one you actually talked to, isn't she?
[ Idly, he thinks back to their conversation after Natalie showed up for that flood, before she showed up entirely, Misty so desperate to learn something, anything about what they talked about. He's only heard the names of the other girls once or twice. Even if she didn't show up for the flood, if she wasn't here, he suspects he'd hear Natalie's name more often. ]
I think the way you make friends is more like me than you realize.
[She says it defensively, remembering Dorian's months-ago accusation that Natalie is the only one she really cares about.]
It's just-- Nat's the only one who talks back.
[And at home, only when she needed something. But that had been enough.
She lets that answer hang, hoping that he'll explain further. Whatever reaction she'd expected - mocking, teasing, a little casual cruelty - it hadn't been commiseration.]
[ he talks as he walks, heading out to the hallway. ]
And it's because Nat's the one who talks back, because she's the one who understands, that's why you're so close to her. Because sure, you could tell other people what happened. You could make friends with your coworkers or neighbors or whatever. But they won't know the real you.
[ Someone miiiiight be projecting a smidge himself. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[She says, without enthusiasm.]
It's a little better here. Most of the wardens still treat me about the same.
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[Bitter? Never.]
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This conversation would have gone a different way if it didn't take a nosedive into the Misty Quigley persecution complex.
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[She tosses him an amused little look.]
Trust me, I have way better self-confidence than you.
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Hi, my name's Misty Quigley, I'm scared that when more people learn about our secrets it'll ruin what I have with my girlfriend and she won't like me anymore.
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That has nothing to do with my self-confidence.
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Hi, my name's Misty Quigley with better self-confidence. I've realized that it doesn't matter who learns about my secrets because I know myself and I know Natalie and the rest of the Barge learning about our fucked up plane crash or whatever it is doesn't matter. We look out for each other, she trusts me, I trust her, and nothing anybody says or does could change it.
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[And oh boy, does she have very little of that.]
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[This time she laughs, tense and forced-sounding.]
You really don't know the first thing about me, do you! Wow.
I've been weathering that storm for my entire life. I am an expert at weathering that storm.
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How many of you survived that plane crash back home? At least two, probably more? Certainly more than your cute little group here of Natalie, Pagan, you, and me—and even then, your cute little group here is rocky at best.
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Or she could lie. She could tell him that he's right, that they're all so close-knit, that they all definitely love talking to her and keeping in close contact.
She doesn't answer, not immediately, but the indecision plays out across her face.]
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Others exist. But Nat's the only one you actually talked to, isn't she?
[ Idly, he thinks back to their conversation after Natalie showed up for that flood, before she showed up entirely, Misty so desperate to learn something, anything about what they talked about. He's only heard the names of the other girls once or twice. Even if she didn't show up for the flood, if she wasn't here, he suspects he'd hear Natalie's name more often. ]
I think the way you make friends is more like me than you realize.
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[She says it defensively, remembering Dorian's months-ago accusation that Natalie is the only one she really cares about.]
It's just-- Nat's the only one who talks back.
[And at home, only when she needed something. But that had been enough.
She lets that answer hang, hoping that he'll explain further. Whatever reaction she'd expected - mocking, teasing, a little casual cruelty - it hadn't been commiseration.]
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Come on. There's something in my attic sex dungeon that I need to show you. Something that wasn't there last time.
[ He really hopes he's making the right choice. ]
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[This sure is unexpected! But she'll follow, leaving her drink behind.]
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And it's because Nat's the one who talks back, because she's the one who understands, that's why you're so close to her. Because sure, you could tell other people what happened. You could make friends with your coworkers or neighbors or whatever. But they won't know the real you.
[ Someone miiiiight be projecting a smidge himself. ]
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