[ As her hand moves to her thigh, Jack's eyes flicker to follow. It's not a gesture he misses, and it's one that he clearly reads, knowing that she, too, is armed, but he does nothing about it. His gaze drifts up to meet hers for a moment, as if saying I know, but he looks forward again without saying a word. Maybe he's not surprised. Maybe he doesn't particularly care or find her to be a threat. It's not clear, but that's nothing new.
And especially not when Jack laughs as he listens to her.
It's strange to hear words like this, because he understands their context and knows where they come from, but it's also like hearing something completely foreign. Religion has its place, and there's religion steeped in the way he talks, but he has very little belief. Belief in God, in sin, in the afterlife, it never quite suited him. And it certainly didn't suit him as he was now. Her words ring a bit hollow as a result, because the urgency she feels for belief isn't something that Handsome Jack ever felt. The extent of his wondering was his certainty that if there was something beyond, his place would certainly be below rather than above. He at least had the self-awareness for that, if not much else. ]
That's— I dunno. Surprising? I guess it's surprising.
[ He sounds uncertain, then reaches up to run a hand through his hair as he bows his head forward slightly. Which, his hair is definitely a mess by now with how many times he's done this, just an observation. ]
Y'wish the same for me, but... Kiddo, I'll be honest. Not that I have any problems with that, don't get me wrong, but, hey, I know the shit I've done doesn't exactly get you a ticket into heaven. 'Cause that's the deal. I'm not the kinda guy that wants to die to get to paradise. I'll bring it here with my own two hands. My personal heaven-- I'm gonna make it.
[ His brow knits together slightly, and he exhales a frustrated noise, like he's having trouble finding his words or expressing himself. Jack wants to reach out, to place his hand over hers as a gesture of sincerity, but he holds back. She doesn't trust him enough for that. He knows it. Whatever is on her thigh is proof enough of that. ]
—Okay. Probably kind of got off point there. Definitely. But what I want to get at, just to be blunt? ...Thank you. That's-- If you can care about me, then that's, well. It's a lot. I know that's not easy to give, 'specially when you hate what I've done, but. Means a lot, Elizabeth. That's what I'm trying to say here.
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And especially not when Jack laughs as he listens to her.
It's strange to hear words like this, because he understands their context and knows where they come from, but it's also like hearing something completely foreign. Religion has its place, and there's religion steeped in the way he talks, but he has very little belief. Belief in God, in sin, in the afterlife, it never quite suited him. And it certainly didn't suit him as he was now. Her words ring a bit hollow as a result, because the urgency she feels for belief isn't something that Handsome Jack ever felt. The extent of his wondering was his certainty that if there was something beyond, his place would certainly be below rather than above. He at least had the self-awareness for that, if not much else. ]
That's— I dunno. Surprising? I guess it's surprising.
[ He sounds uncertain, then reaches up to run a hand through his hair as he bows his head forward slightly. Which, his hair is definitely a mess by now with how many times he's done this, just an observation. ]
Y'wish the same for me, but... Kiddo, I'll be honest. Not that I have any problems with that, don't get me wrong, but, hey, I know the shit I've done doesn't exactly get you a ticket into heaven. 'Cause that's the deal. I'm not the kinda guy that wants to die to get to paradise. I'll bring it here with my own two hands. My personal heaven-- I'm gonna make it.
[ His brow knits together slightly, and he exhales a frustrated noise, like he's having trouble finding his words or expressing himself. Jack wants to reach out, to place his hand over hers as a gesture of sincerity, but he holds back. She doesn't trust him enough for that. He knows it. Whatever is on her thigh is proof enough of that. ]
—Okay. Probably kind of got off point there. Definitely. But what I want to get at, just to be blunt? ...Thank you. That's-- If you can care about me, then that's, well. It's a lot. I know that's not easy to give, 'specially when you hate what I've done, but. Means a lot, Elizabeth. That's what I'm trying to say here.