the humble escorpion

Being that she was a teacher, and had always been encouraged by her peers and superiors as a well fit for one, Flora did never ridicule, when she reproached. She knew how to coax and goad, to lead with questions a troubled soul to that which would help her help them help themselves, but she really tried not to be an arse about it. It wasn't her way. She made sure it never became her way. And if that made her soft, or stereotyped, well...

Being that he was a man, and had never been encouraged by his peers nor superiors as a particular fit for either that gender or the other, Minoth did constantly prickle when it was brought to his attention that he was acting soft, contrary to his stereotype. Shouldn't he be brusque, and hard-headed? Shouldn't he have a mind for violence and thrills?

Minoth did enjoy violence, of a particular artistic quality, and thrilled at the chance to be brusque when the situation demanded it; when he could exercise that muscle. But he was in fact quite gentle-hearted. He was, in fact, dearly sensitive.

"You don't have to get so gloomy," said Flora. "There's nothing wrong with letting people know you care."

You don't have to - see, a little impatience slipped through. Perhaps she should have led, "I don't think," or "It's alright," to go with a conciliatory, comforting tone of voice.

"If I let people know I care," replied Minoth, "they'll think I expect them to care about me. No one believes in the pipedream of altruism, anymore."

We're all weak. We're all selfish, and bitter.

Flora tut-tutted, drawing back and crossing her arms at the level of the desk. "That's really a loathsome attitude, Minoth."

He couldn't help but grin. "Yes, and?"

"And I'll leave you to it. Serves you right."

"Sure does..."