"Without feeling. Yes, I know." Gideon's expression is level, however discomfiting Amos' smile is. Because he claims there's nothing behind it. How unutterably sad--and if anyone knows unutterable, it's Gideon--and yet understandable. He has lived in times and places when he closed his heart to others' suffering. He still could, should it be necessary.
"I have known other men to conduct their lives without feeling. They were--" There is a pause, but a thoughtful, expectant look on Gideon's face, looking for the kindest way to say it. "Less concerned for the harm they caused others."
Concerned. It's difficult to speak of without falling into the language of emotion.
"Yeah," Amos says, placidly cheerful. "Met those assholes. Difference between them and me... I dunno." Another sip. "Could become one real easy. Hopefully somebody'll take my ass out before that."
Gideon can think of some possibilities, the differences between them, but they're neither here nor there for the moment. He's a philosopher, not a psychotherapist--his opinion here would be grounded in opinion and a great fondness for Amos, one he knows is not unbiased. So he lets the subject go, the quiet settling between them again.
After a few minutes, though, after getting a second bulbful of coffee (and one more packet of whitener), he asks, "What would it look like if you 'gave a shit' when I lied?"
Amos drilled more in the meanwhile, rewired some external drivers, and is affixing selecting a new wrench for the next stage in his project. "You don't lie about shit that matters," he says, "if you did... then we'd talk."
"I might," he responds, his expression light but--admittedly--probing. This is a matter of some curiosity, worth investigating further; he's seen how well Amos reads people. "Perhaps I am a better liar than you give me credit for."
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"I have known other men to conduct their lives without feeling. They were--" There is a pause, but a thoughtful, expectant look on Gideon's face, looking for the kindest way to say it. "Less concerned for the harm they caused others."
Concerned. It's difficult to speak of without falling into the language of emotion.
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After a few minutes, though, after getting a second bulbful of coffee (and one more packet of whitener), he asks, "What would it look like if you 'gave a shit' when I lied?"
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"You might," he allows, "but most people don't say 'perhaps' about shit they're trying to get away with."