“Nothing'sforever,” I say, a little bit sharply.
Cal looks taken aback. “I just meant?—”
“No, no, I know what you meant,” I interrupt. “Maybe you should think about it is all. Coaching. You'd maybe want to work more on the other two weapons, but…” I bite the inside of my cheek. “You could train someone up.”
Cal's silent a long moment. I rest my blade point against the toe of my shoe, bend it outward for no real reason—it’s brand new, the curve is fine.
“Lanz—” he starts.
“What?” I say, almost too quickly, and Cal's eyes widen.
“What are you talking about?” he says softly.
“I'm just saying you could coach,” I say tersely. “I'm saying?—
“No, not about coaching,” Cal says. “What are you… what's going on?” His voice breaks. I stare at the floor, bending my blade again and again.
“Nothing's going on,” I say. “I mean, besides, you know…” I gesture fruitlessly around. “Everything. All of this.”
“Withyou,” Cal says. “You're…”
“You didn’t have to buy me flowers.”
I don't know why I say it just then. I don't even really mind, in theory. But something about the gesture hurts. Hurts myheart. Not in a literal sense, not in the way that's actually physically killing me, but emotionally. Like…like I don't want him to be doing nice things for me. To be caring about me. To be putting any of that energy into what is ultimately a black hole. Not Cal.
“I know that,” Cal murmurs. “I mean, that's the thing with flowers, right? You neverhaveto get them. They're just for decoration, to be nice.”
“Well, don't be,” I say. “Don’t be nice.” Now, finally, I lift my head, and the look on Cal's face is somewhere between disgust and disbelief.
“What the hell is going on with you?” he says, and the tightness of his voice combined with the borderline swear word shocks me a little out of my posture. “You're being cranky and angry at me. With Gwenna, even. You're collapsing in the kitchen. You're like…skin and bone,” he says pointedly, eyeing the baggy whites hanging off my shoulders.
“I am not,” I mutter.
“Lanz, come on.” Cal extends his sword arm, pointing at me with the blade, and out of instinct, I lift my own weapon and parry, parry so hard I knock his blade to the ground. Cal gapes.
“Just stop asking,” I say. “Stop asking questions, all right?”
“I would if you'd actuallyanswerany,” Cal says. His eyes are shining behind his glasses, and I swear I can see the faintest tremble in his jaw.
“Would you quit it with the savior complex?” I say. “I know you just want to be the knight in shining armor for everyone and save the day, but some things are just not saveable.”
There's a long, pulsing silence. I rip off my mask, suddenly frantic for fresh air.
“That's not true,” Cal says steadily. “Don't say things like that. That's not?—”
“Oh, it’s true.” I feel very mean, very ugly, and I don’t care. “No offense, Cal? But grow up. I know, I know, we're all here in service of the Lord and the honor of a loving God, but, like, come on. Not everything can turn out okay in the end, you know? That's life. You can't save everyone. Not even God can save everyone.”
“But…” Cal looks like I’ve kicked him in the stomach. “Lanz, that’s not?—”
“Then why doesn’t He?” I shout. “Jesus.” I shake my head, vibrating with sudden anger, and I breathe out hard through my nostrils, once. “Fuck!”
My voice reverberates around the salle, and I chuck my epee at the ground, where it rattles against Cal's.
Cal just stares. Stares and stares and stares. Mutters something too low for me to hear.
“What?” I say, the word straining with exhaustion and anger. “What, Callahan?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Just…” He lifts his head, looks dead into my eyes, like he’s searching for something. “I don't even recognize you anymore.”
