[Albert goes stock still when his arm is grabbed, then rounds on Moran, ready to turn this into a most unseemly physical altercation if needed. He doesn't want things to be like this, but if he and Moran can't see eye to eye, it's not the end of the world. Surely they'll be back to their mutual antagonism tomorrow, and the day after, and beyond. He was content to cool off and attempt again later when he didn't feel so passionate. So vulnerable.
His eyes narrow at first in anger, but widen at the invocation of his brothers. He hears Moran's words like an echo in his mind, in slow motion, as he's pulled closer. He's... being called out. Absolutely. And what's more, what he hates the most, is that Moran isn't wrong for being upset, not entirely. Albert was purposefully tiptoeing around something he feared, something so sacred to him, something he couldn't even tell William.
All because Moran... Well, Moran is different. He's older. He's come to terms with things in his life, in his own way. He follows orders to the letter, is reliable, dependable, excellent at what he does, has a razor sharp tongue at the worst times and a core that Albert knows is as good as his own, if not better. The one he's called himself on denying since the moment he arrived here, and thought he was in Hell itself.
Moran isn't trying to replace his dear brothers, or trying to patronize Albert. Albert is silent as he thinks all of this through, staring blankly, impassively at Moran's face, looking through him, really... Moran is trying to understand, genuinely, and has reacted as he has because he missed cues Albert relies on William's intellect and skill to deliver to anyone. If he assesses this calmly instead of hiding inside his impenetrable shell, he can honestly see where Moran is coming from.
How he hates himself even more in the moment, for troubling someone who was honestly glad to see him.
His free hand moves to grip Moran's wrist firmly, hoping to persuade him to ease the grip on his arm. He may be smaller and younger and less solidly built than Moran, but he has confidence in his movements and a fluid grace and dignity that usually serves to at least throw Moran off when things are heated.]
I understand.
[It's all he says for a moment, a non-answer, a lack of response, just a bland acknowledgement after the silence to break it up while he decides what to do. It's probably enough to make things worse, but... It's what he needs.
When his eyes meet Moran's, there's something foreign there, shining back the the man. Resignation. And even, if Moran bothers to hold his gaze, a touch of genuine pain.]
I want to find another way, here. I don't want to so much as raise my hand against anyone unless I absolutely must. If or when William arrives, I'll say the same. That we can do better here, and accomplish our goals. Do you understand? And I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do.
[His shoulders relax visibly.]
I am a soldier and an agent of MI6, ultimately. I acknowledge that things may not be easy, and I may have to resort to violence. But only, only if I must. Believe it or not, everything that happened at home was at my behest. If anyone can change it, it should be me. I have the chance, and I intend on taking it.
no subject
His eyes narrow at first in anger, but widen at the invocation of his brothers. He hears Moran's words like an echo in his mind, in slow motion, as he's pulled closer. He's... being called out. Absolutely. And what's more, what he hates the most, is that Moran isn't wrong for being upset, not entirely. Albert was purposefully tiptoeing around something he feared, something so sacred to him, something he couldn't even tell William.
All because Moran... Well, Moran is different. He's older. He's come to terms with things in his life, in his own way. He follows orders to the letter, is reliable, dependable, excellent at what he does, has a razor sharp tongue at the worst times and a core that Albert knows is as good as his own, if not better. The one he's called himself on denying since the moment he arrived here, and thought he was in Hell itself.
Moran isn't trying to replace his dear brothers, or trying to patronize Albert. Albert is silent as he thinks all of this through, staring blankly, impassively at Moran's face, looking through him, really... Moran is trying to understand, genuinely, and has reacted as he has because he missed cues Albert relies on William's intellect and skill to deliver to anyone. If he assesses this calmly instead of hiding inside his impenetrable shell, he can honestly see where Moran is coming from.
How he hates himself even more in the moment, for troubling someone who was honestly glad to see him.
His free hand moves to grip Moran's wrist firmly, hoping to persuade him to ease the grip on his arm. He may be smaller and younger and less solidly built than Moran, but he has confidence in his movements and a fluid grace and dignity that usually serves to at least throw Moran off when things are heated.]
I understand.
[It's all he says for a moment, a non-answer, a lack of response, just a bland acknowledgement after the silence to break it up while he decides what to do. It's probably enough to make things worse, but... It's what he needs.
When his eyes meet Moran's, there's something foreign there, shining back the the man. Resignation. And even, if Moran bothers to hold his gaze, a touch of genuine pain.]
I want to find another way, here. I don't want to so much as raise my hand against anyone unless I absolutely must. If or when William arrives, I'll say the same. That we can do better here, and accomplish our goals. Do you understand? And I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do.
[His shoulders relax visibly.]
I am a soldier and an agent of MI6, ultimately. I acknowledge that things may not be easy, and I may have to resort to violence. But only, only if I must. Believe it or not, everything that happened at home was at my behest. If anyone can change it, it should be me. I have the chance, and I intend on taking it.