2019-12-15 - Grit Vs Wits- The Epic Confrontation

So when you have a problem that you don't know how to solve and you don't have a computer at your house, where can you go to find the answers? The Library! The first thing Tyrone went looking for was a 'relationships' section. Which there wasn't. However, in the 'self-help' section, he has found a bunch of books on relationships. And so that's where he is, in the self-help aisle, pulling one book down and thumbing through it for a while, before putting it back where it belongs and finding another.

Dressed in a red plaid dress, a black cardigan sweater, and knee-high, black, heeled, leather boots that only allow a glimpse of the black hosiery at her knees, Harper exits from her secret lair in the basement through the staff room. She checks in with Melinda who is covering the circulation desk to let her know she'll be making rounds of the space, reshelving books, and generally being Harper. Melinda comes off as a dour, strict, old-fashioned librarian but she allows glimpses of warmth through when she interacts with Harper. There is a close connection between the two women who couldn't be more different, not even counting the fact that Melinda is nearly twice Harper's age.

Harper strolls around the periphery of tables and those present, a familiar and welcoming face for anyone who might have a question or request assistance. Next she meanders past the line of slow computers along the back wall of the library. She pushes chairs in here, logs out for someone who forgot to do so there.

She's headed to the circulation desk to get a cart of books to reshelf when she stops, backs up a few steps. Yes. That's Tyrone down the aisle by Self-Help books. Already Harper curves a smile but then stops short, facing down that long aisle with momentary hesitation. Does a librarian bother someone in the Self-Help section? Is that where librarian-patron privilege comes in? Harper being Harper, the decision is easily made and she resumes her stroll, allowing for Tyrone to catch her approach in his peripheral vision.

Tyrone is pretty darn focused as he skims through the books, index finger tracing the lines where he's reading. If it weren't for the fact that his current book doesn't appear to suit his needs and he's putting it back on the shelf, he might not even notice Harper's approach. But, as he puts the book back in the correct spot on the shelf, he does catch the red vision out of the corner of his eye. And, which might surprise Harper, he grimaces a little. "Hey, Harper," he greets, not turning from scanning the titles on the shelf in front of him.

Harper comes to a halt close -- within arm's reach -- but not too close to Tyrone. As is typical for her, she doesn't speak in a hushed voice. But the fact is she's not lifting her voice to carry, either. "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," she replies dryly. "Need some time alone?" Yes. Yes she glances at the area where a book was just replaced. Interesting. Relationships. But what sort of relationship? Inquiring Harpers want to know. "I may have been compared to a bothersome butterfly, but I am entirely capable of leaving some of my favorite library patrons alone if that's what they prefer from their library experience."

Harper can tell that Tyrone is bothered about something. From the knit in his brow to the tightness in the corners of his mouth, which are normally very quick to turn up in a smile in Harper's presence, Something Is Amiss. But Tyrone'll be damned if he's gonna just admit it. "Sorry, I'm lookin' for something. But I got it, I'm good, thanks," he lies, pulling out another book and turning to the table of contents so he can read the chapter headings. Tyrone is wearing, as usual, military-derived clothing. And, since it's winter, that includes his camo jacket that still has all the velcro places on it where his military insignia and information would go if he were still enlisted. But, since he's not, they're just empty velcro patches now.

Harper frowns, a wrinkling of her brow, and folds her slim arms across her chest. Something Is Amiss. "You know, I may be able to help you find what you're looking for more quickly." Then she adds, unfolding one arm so she can reach out and rest a hand lightly on Tyrone's nearer shoulder atop that camouflage, velcro-ridden jacket. The words accompany the touch. "I really am quite good at keeping secrets." He's not mentioning the Thanksgiving note, so neither is she. She lifts her hand only to reach over and rest it atop the back of his hand on the book he's scanning. "Whatever it is, there's a way through. Probably a handful of ways. It's just not always easy to see the doors in the beginning."

Tyrone doesn't seem to mind the hand on his shoulder, but then the hand on his hand does make him flinch a little, muscles instinctively tightening. Pursing his lips, he shakes his head and looks over at Harper. "Naaaaaah, I really don't think this is something you can help with. Ain't no secrets or nothing, just something I gotta figure out." And that's right, this would be the first time he's seen Harper since the Thanksgiving note. Which he's probably totally not thinking about at the moment, because her sentiments in the letter definitely haven't been apparent to him from A Certain Someone. At least, not in the way he wants. And he does pull the next book down and open it's contents page, again.

With Tyrone's shoulders being so easy to see over, Harper would fairly easily be able to see him looking at at 'trust issues' sections. To which he turns, and starts scanning for whatever it is he's looking for. Which would be the same section he looked up in the last book. And really, in every book he's looked at so far.

Perceptive enough to catch that flinch, Harper draws her hand back and away, folding it across her chest once more. "If it's not a secret, then why are you turning on all that Marine obstinance?" She says this with a hint of a smile behind her brown eyes if not currently tipping at the corners of her mouth. She'll play chicken with the Marine until he simply tells her to get the hell out of his business. "Trust is a complicated thing," she murmurs. Unapologetically, she scans the same table of contents he does. "Since you're looking for a book, I'm going to hazard a guess that your search is about someone else's trust. Time and patience are a good start, but..." Here she points to a white-covered book entitled: 'Daring to Trust: Opening our Lives to Real Love and Intimacy' with an author's last name of Richo. Then another book, this one red. 'How to Build Trust in a Relationship: Powerful Ways to Rebuild Effective Communication, Resolve Conflict, Improve Intimacy, and Avoid Betrayal' by C. Robin. "These authors are well-respected." Harper's making an intuitive extrapolation that may be entirely wrong in this case. He could be dealing with PTSD or interactions with parents for all she knows.

This gosh darn, cotton-picking, no good, cake eating, nosy, busy-body librarian .... At least, that's what Tyrone /tells/ himself about Harper's continued interdiction on His Troubles. What makes it worse is when she nails it without him even saying a single word. If he were prone to mutter, he'd definitely be muttering under his breath. Since he's not, the muttering is all internal. But, if she's right, she's right, and he puts his present book back and pulls out the first book she suggested without saying a word. So ... maybe he WILL let her help him. Apparently as long as it doesn't involve him actually saying out loud that he has Feelings, and that they are Affecting Him. Because that would just not fly with the character archetype he attempts to present. Why, that would mean there was more to him than The Corps and Honor and Duty and Action. And that's just something he's not willing to admit, yet. The Corps is still all he's got, so he /has/ to cling to it.

That librarian? That one right there? She leans a shoulder into the battened down bookcase and crosses one boot-clad foot over the other. And she watches the woebegon, dismissive, grumpy, headstrong, kind-hearted, sweet-talking, strong-as-hell Marine with all the patience in the world. And yes, once again, her gaze flickers down the pages that catch his attention, then back up to his face again. "Sometimes telling someone about it makes things more clear," she murmurs in a much more hushed, traditional librarian tone.

Tyrone's brow furrows again when Harper offers the whole 'talking' solution again. Talking would, again, involve Feelings, and those are on the list of things that Marines Can't Have. Along with Weakness, Doubts, Fears and other such things that would make them human and not Uncle Sam's most dangerous weapon. "There's not really anything to talk about," he lies. Although, in a sense, he's being honest- for him to be able to talk about it, he'd first have to be able to understand what he felt. He's decidedly horrible at that because he has no experience. "I'm just trying to figure some stuff out, that's all." And, while his face may be rather cross, his tone isn't sharp with Harper. In fact, he really just sounds more lost and perhaps a little sad about it. But, again, Sad would be a Feeling, and he doesn't have those. And the fact that he has so many is probably what makes it so difficult for him to hide them all.

Harper watches Tyrone's expression trying to gauge as much from his emotion-avoidant demeanor as she can. "I have this friend," she begins the hypothetical. "She's been through some hard times. I know she likes me: we're friends. But there are some things that have --" She waves a hand in the air as she dives deeper into her inviting hypothetical. " -- hurt her so much, I think, from her past --" A measuring look to see if she's hitting any visible buttons. " -- that she seems to expect the same treatment from me, too."

When Harper starts Dirty Boxing, Tyrone doesn't look over at her, he just frowns. He debates how to respond, his jaw working a little, since she's /mostly/ right. But, not for the right reasons. Which, due to his inexperience with Feelings, he thinks is very important. But, instead, he remembers who he's talking to and glances up at Harper for the first time, his eyebrow crooked. "I find it impossible to believe that you have a friend that doesn't trust you or that would expect you to hurt them, no matter their past. So ... nice try," he offers.

Harper's brown eyes darken faintly at the observed clenching of Tyrone's jaw. She remains there, casually and comfortably leaning against the bookcase while he peruses and thinks. He gives her a real look for the first time since she walked down that aisle of books and she wills as much perceived empathy into her gaze as she can. (This is not a look to be confused with pity. Completely different thing.) "If I've learned anything in life, Tyrone -- and I'd like to believe I've learned a few things -- it's that people will surprise you. Not only are there people who don't trust me," she gives him a pointed look. "I'm pretty sure there are people who I've hurt who don't trust because of me. Life is a messy, messy thing. It's important to reach for a hand when it's offered." She pauses, takes a breath. Exhales. Smiles ironically. "Trust me."

"You may be pretty sure, but I bet if you check the record, ain't nobody blaming you for it," Tyrone argues. He then sighs and shakes his head. "Long story short?" And then he abbreviates it to near obfuscation. "Tryin'a figure out if I should just not be around this shawty." Which hits the crux of the issue without giving any helpful details in the least. Because Tyrone is still refusing to admit to Feelings.

There's a handful of moments when Harper's relentlessly amiable mask drops and a haunted look skims over her features. Her brown-eyed gaze goes to the middle distance as if she were seeing and hearing something from an altogether different time and place. With a blink she shakes her head and refocuses on Tyrone from her relaxed stance. "Like I said, Tyrone. I think you'd be surprised." And there's that smile again. Warm and affectionate. Long story short! Progress is made. "So your --" Harper's not going to call the unnamed, ungendered individual 'shawty'. "-- friend is having trust issues and you're trying to decide whether or not to remove yourself from the situation altogether?" Harper tries repeating back her interpretation to Tyrone. Maybe that will widen the opening she's just cracked. Harper does, however, follow his lead and keep from speaking any 'emotion' vernacular.

"I dunno what her issues are, she won't /talk/ about 'em," Tyrone admits in a very frustrated outburst. Aw, crap, he slipped. Daggum it. He sighs and frowns, his features hardening as he tightens the sieve on his Emotions. Leaks are not permitted! Shaking his head, Tyrone puts the book back up on the shelf, incapable of any succesful reading with Harper continuing to pester him. He turns to face her more fully and his shoulders drop. "Look. I appreciate you, tryin'a be my friend and all, and I'm sure you mean well and stuff. But ain't really nothin' you can /do/, so I don't wanna waste your time tryin'a help." See? He's okay. He doesn't have feelings, so there's nothing to talk about and nothing for Harper to help him sort out and he'll just go home and drink more beer and kick the proverbial can down the road. Or whatever the crippled equivalent would be, considering kicking isn't in his wheelhouse anymore.

Harper's more sticky than that. Good try, though! She listens with a thoughtful expression, not seeming to react one way or the other to the frustrated outburst. That way she preserves Tyrone's perceived personal dignity and she doesn't inadvertantly escalate his conflict, either. She. Now the librarian knows it is indeed a 'she'. "How long have you known her?" Because Harper remembers when Tyrone first arrived in Gray Harbor. She knows, or thinks she knows, what the maximum on this particular relationship must be. "Really, Tyrone. There may be some other avenues, but time and patience are tried and true if you don't personally have any stake in the game." Or if he has too much stake in the game. But Harper doesn't say that bit.

Tyrone turns to face her and Harper remains settled against her shoulder, arms now unfolded. 'Look'. Nothing beneficial for further conversation starts with 'look'. "I'm not planning to interject myself into your relationship," she agrees when he tells her there's nothing she can do. "Now, if you see value in talking things through with someone, I'm your gal Friday. And until you tell me to let it go and walk away, I'm not moving." Sure he's okay. Harper allows that image to stay in pristine form.

Frustrated outburst number two: "It ain't no relationship, that's the pro'lem!" Another sigh and Tyrone hangs his head, rubbing his brow and face with his hand. It takes him a second and then he shakes his head and straightens back up, composed once again. If it weren't so frustrating, Tyrone's ability to keep himself composed and keep his emotions in check might be terribly impressive. The Marine squares his shoulders and forces a very weak smile onto his face. Harper will probably also notice that his speech has slipped, with much more vernacular and less annunciation than he usually uses when talking to her. Signs that his available resources are being deployed to other fronts of the battle. "I'm sorry, Harper, but this ain't somethin' talkin' go'n fix. I been had tried to talk about it wit' her already and that ain't did nothin' but ruin our date. So, talkin' ain't doin' nothin' for nobody, thanks but no thanks. Again, though, I do appreciate the effort."

The outburst causes Melinda across the large, vaulted space to look up and over toward the stacks with some consternation. For her part, Harper doesn't so much as blink in the face of the exclamation. After he finishes speaking, Harper remains silent, letting the words seep into his own thoughts as well as hers. Harper definitely is seeing a strong example of a stiff-upper lip; that's not debatable here. Tyrone squares his shoulders and puts on that sad bit of a smile. "Sometime," she finally answers softly. "-- when you feel otherwise," pause, her gaze meets his and holds. "I'll be here." She pushes away from the bookcase and steps toward the man facing her in the wheelchair, holding out a hand. "Give me your phone, Tyrone." She thinks a Marine is just going to do what she asks? Or maybe because she said it that way it'll work.

Visibly relieved when Harper gives up on her quest to be helpful, Tyrone relaxes in his chair, absolutely certain that he'll never feel differently because he's a marine and MARINES DON'T FEEL, DAMMIT! An eyebrow quirks when she demands his phone and he produces it, unlocking it and handing it over to her. Nothing on there to find, apparently, as he doesn't seem at all apprehensive about it.

If Harper notices him relaxing, she doesn't comment on it. She takes said phone and begins tapping through screens. She gets to one in particular and clearly enters some text. That done she returns the phone to its home screen and hands it back. "Do you want to check out a book to take with you?" Because she assumes all of his posturing suggests he wants to go.

Tyrone's brow furrows when Harper does something and then hands the phone back. He immediately flips through the phone, but doesn't see anything obvious. Frowning, he looks up at Harper and is about to ask about it, when she asks him a question instead. "Oh," Tyrone says, blinking and looking back at the bookshelf. That, apparently, had not occured to him. "Umm ...," he trails off, looking over the titles again. He pulls out the last two books Harper recommened and shrugs his shoulders way up. "Maybe these ones?" See? As much as he was refusing her help, he was letting her help!

Harper reaches out to take the books from Tyrone -- whether he wanted her to or not -- and pivots to head back down the aisle, then out into the open center of the room toward the circulation desk. She swings around behind the space and, with a smile for Melinda, starts tip-typing into the computer. A screen opens and Harper scans the codes on the books. By the time Tyrone reaches the circulation desk, she's settled atop the edge of the desk on one hip and slides the books across to him. "It was nice to see you, Tyrone. Don't be a stranger."

A little surprised at his summary dismissal from the library, it takes a second before Tyrone follows after Harper. Well, he was done, anyway, wasn't he? Or maybe Harper just knew that the help he needed wasn't going to be found where he was looking and was saving him the time of trying. Tyrone wouldn't know that, though. When he gets up to the desk, she's already handing him the books, and he's again surprised. "Uh ... thanks!" Well, then. With this new mystery on his mind, at least he's not gonna go home and start drinking right away! He heads out of the library, sticking the books inside of his jacket and zipping it closed to keep them protected from the elements as he goes.