Admitting this truth aloud lays him completely bare. Flint has always had the uncomfortable gift to see John. Maybe he never saw what John was capable of, but he'd seen John's machinations. There had been no chance of taking Flint unaware. Even as John leans over the table, bloody cloth clutched in one hand, he suspects Flint isn't half as surprised as another man would be.
"You told me what you were, before you were Captain Flint," John begins, stalling by habit. "Well, poetically, you're not the only one with some experience with our enemies."
The finer details die in his throat before John can put voice to them. He isn't as brave as Flint. He can't spill his demons out so easily. He'd intended to up until this moment, and finds he can't drag the old wounds out into the open.
"I can break every spell they spin. I'm good for...sensing that kind of power," John admits, breaking with a tense smile as his fingers curl into a fist. The ring is warming to his skin. "I'm sure that doesn't come as any surprise."
Reading people the way he did was a natural gift. But the ability to see the way power was woven through the world? That was a different sort of boon.
There is nothing left for his hands to do. The kit with its knife and metal filings, bundles of sweet yellowed grass and dried garden herbs and ash flakes and black stones with white marks carved into them lays closed and secure under his fingers. Maybe John feels those things too. Maybe those things with their waiting, murmuring power are bare to him too. Some of the satisfaction has slid sideways from his expression now. He studies him plainly for the span of a second, though standing under the hanging lantern as John sits lower from it paints some inscrutable shadow in the corners of the other's man's face.
It doesn't - surprise him. He's been canny from the beginning. But John's clarity, his fixation on his ability to snap those bonds, must raise the question:
"Because I'm fairly certain you're not going to turn me over to them."
It's a very general "them." John trusts Flint can differentiate without needing John to delve into all the different factions who would be happy to chase John down and harness him to do their bidding. He presses his palms to the table, traces the grain of the wood with his fingertips while he lets that simple, honest statement settle.
"And as we've already begun the process of tipping the scales, tipping them a bit more between the pair of us can't hurt."
The time where John could have simply walked away is past. He'd have done this without telling Flint, perhaps. But they've shared a fair number of secrets at this point. John doesn't need to shroud himself in shadow to spin out his will anymore. Flint's brought him into this. John feels he owes him the same in return.
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"You told me what you were, before you were Captain Flint," John begins, stalling by habit. "Well, poetically, you're not the only one with some experience with our enemies."
The finer details die in his throat before John can put voice to them. He isn't as brave as Flint. He can't spill his demons out so easily. He'd intended to up until this moment, and finds he can't drag the old wounds out into the open.
"I can break every spell they spin. I'm good for...sensing that kind of power," John admits, breaking with a tense smile as his fingers curl into a fist. The ring is warming to his skin. "I'm sure that doesn't come as any surprise."
Reading people the way he did was a natural gift. But the ability to see the way power was woven through the world? That was a different sort of boon.
no subject
It doesn't - surprise him. He's been canny from the beginning. But John's clarity, his fixation on his ability to snap those bonds, must raise the question:
"Why now?"
no subject
It's a very general "them." John trusts Flint can differentiate without needing John to delve into all the different factions who would be happy to chase John down and harness him to do their bidding. He presses his palms to the table, traces the grain of the wood with his fingertips while he lets that simple, honest statement settle.
"And as we've already begun the process of tipping the scales, tipping them a bit more between the pair of us can't hurt."
The time where John could have simply walked away is past. He'd have done this without telling Flint, perhaps. But they've shared a fair number of secrets at this point. John doesn't need to shroud himself in shadow to spin out his will anymore. Flint's brought him into this. John feels he owes him the same in return.