[ credence is quick and clever and scared. he's so downtrodden by mary lou that he doesn't know how else to be. many people think he's stupid just because he's so quiet and awkward but anyone that knows him well knows far better. it's difficult being mary lou's child at the best times but it's far worse to be her most hated only son.
graves has granted him the time he needs though and he sighs in relief. but then he thinks of something: ] If I figure it out, how am I supposed to contact you right away?
[ it's a brief aside because then graves is talking about his hands and credence shakes his head instinctively before finally relenting, shoulders hunched and head down. ] It's fine, I broke the rules. I was out too late.
[ a breath and he turns his hands to show graves his palms, ragged and raw and borderline bleeding from the harsh treatment given to them. ] It's not as bad as it looks.
graves remembers this, the night before when they had met, when graves had taken him to a diner and showed him the value of magic -- and he feels a coil of guilt at the wonder in his eyes, when he lights up and looks so much younger than his years.
credence is clever, driven and hungry for knowledge; a smart young man that graves comes to learn more about as the days go by, uncovering snippets of him, getting closer. his brows furrow when he sees those palms, skin broken and welts swelling up -- it's nasty work by a nasty woman, and despite graves's intent not to get personally involved, the transgression is too great to ignore.
he doesn't answer the first question just yet, preoccupied with the wounds credence gingerly sports. they need to fix this, because it will sting and burn whenever credence touches something -- graves is more than certain that's mary lou's intent -- and he gently brushes his finger over his, taking away the worst of it with a quiet spell, skin healing over the wounds, knitting together.
it's the least he can do after getting him into trouble. ] Tell me if it still hurts.
[ credence hadn't wanted graves to think about that. he feels bad enough about worrying him and not being able to finish the job that's been set before him, even worse to make him think it was his fault when she would have found a reason to beat him anyway. at least it was just his hands last night - some days he can't sit because his legs are lines of welts, or he has to sleep on his stomach because his back is screaming.
his breath shakes slightly from just this slight contact, from the feel of magic knitting his skin back together. he tips his head far enough that graves can't see his face because he definitely doesn't want the older man to see the fact that he's almost crying just from this. but it's probably obvious. he's practically trembling in such close proximity to him and it's as though he has to gather himself before he can answer. ] It... It doesn't hurt any more. Thank you. You--didn't have to.
[ he's tense and shaky and it's so heartbreaking a thing to see that the tiniest bit of kindness can nearly bring him to he knees. ] I promise I'll work harder.
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graves has granted him the time he needs though and he sighs in relief. but then he thinks of something: ] If I figure it out, how am I supposed to contact you right away?
[ it's a brief aside because then graves is talking about his hands and credence shakes his head instinctively before finally relenting, shoulders hunched and head down. ] It's fine, I broke the rules. I was out too late.
[ a breath and he turns his hands to show graves his palms, ragged and raw and borderline bleeding from the harsh treatment given to them. ] It's not as bad as it looks.
no subject
graves remembers this, the night before when they had met, when graves had taken him to a diner and showed him the value of magic -- and he feels a coil of guilt at the wonder in his eyes, when he lights up and looks so much younger than his years.
credence is clever, driven and hungry for knowledge; a smart young man that graves comes to learn more about as the days go by, uncovering snippets of him, getting closer. his brows furrow when he sees those palms, skin broken and welts swelling up -- it's nasty work by a nasty woman, and despite graves's intent not to get personally involved, the transgression is too great to ignore.
he doesn't answer the first question just yet, preoccupied with the wounds credence gingerly sports. they need to fix this, because it will sting and burn whenever credence touches something -- graves is more than certain that's mary lou's intent -- and he gently brushes his finger over his, taking away the worst of it with a quiet spell, skin healing over the wounds, knitting together.
it's the least he can do after getting him into trouble. ] Tell me if it still hurts.
no subject
his breath shakes slightly from just this slight contact, from the feel of magic knitting his skin back together. he tips his head far enough that graves can't see his face because he definitely doesn't want the older man to see the fact that he's almost crying just from this. but it's probably obvious. he's practically trembling in such close proximity to him and it's as though he has to gather himself before he can answer. ] It... It doesn't hurt any more. Thank you. You--didn't have to.
[ he's tense and shaky and it's so heartbreaking a thing to see that the tiniest bit of kindness can nearly bring him to he knees. ] I promise I'll work harder.