You know what also????
I was trying to rationalize Grant not recognizing that his son as he grows up looks exactly like that kid he met on the titanic.
And I came to the conclusion that Grant definitely thinks that Lincoln is the little brother of that boy on the titanic.
Think about it:
• Grant knows that the baby is not just Asian he’s not totally stupid.
• Grant also heard them say “that baby is ours”
• he sees that they look the same later
• why would he assume that they’re the same person.
Bc why would he not be like “why does my son and that boy look the same” unless he assumed that they were brothers.
I don’t think this affects anything in canon that he believes this.
But I think it’s neat idk
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EY's reaction to finding out HJ used to steal as well when he was younger is so interesting.
How excited he was abt it:
From EY's pov, this straight A student he thought was perfect and never did a single wrong thing in his life, just confessed to having a criminal background. EY used to look down on HJ for his self-righteous and goody-two-shoes behavior. In his eyes, 'good' people like that don't last long bc they're 'sensitive' abt (in his eyes) insignificant stuff, and they often criticize and judge people like him too quickly. That's why he was so curious abt HJ and tried to figure him out, and why he pissed him off so easily. To him, it's a mystery how people like that still exist and manage survive.
One of EY's sources of frustration towards HJ was how EY thought, HJ thought, he (HJ) was better than him (EY) <- which was partially true, HJ did think "I'm miserable, but at least not as miserable as him". But HJ admitting he used to steal showed EY that HJ was not that much better than him. That he's not as stuck-up and 'holier-than-thou' than he previously thought. He had character.
After finding this out, EY gained a lot more respect for HJ. Especially after hearing his story abt how he managed to quit. HJ became a person EY could truly look up to that day.
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@apocryphis: "my understanding is that humans are not particularly fond of the rain. that they deem it an inconvenience at best, a danger at worst." the iudex muses, and sounds as though it is as much as reflection he makes for himself as he does for his companion. standing by the entrance of the palais in the company of captain vautrin, he extends a gloved hand, palm turned towards the sky, and allows droplets of water to accumulate there under the downpour - seemingly entirely unbothered by the dampness quickly permeating the sleeve of his coat. "what of you, vautrin?" he asks, primordial irises swirling with silent questions he tentatively allows to show in front of a man he catches himself tempted to call his friend (vautrin is a trustworthy man to the iudex of fontaine - should neuvillette lower his guard just as much?). "what do you think of it? you never seem to quite follow the mainstream consensus - i am quite curious to hear your thoughts. perhaps they would cast a light on a few questions i have been asking myself for a little while..."
The gentle drumming of the rain has been an accompaniment his entire life, it would seem to Vautrin. Perhaps it is his Fontanian upbringing, or perhaps it is because he has been surrounded by music for as long as he can remember, but the rain has always soothed him like a lullaby does a child. In fact, growing up, some nights he couldn't sleep without the background patter of raindrops against his window.
Sleep eludes him now for different reasons, but he finds it soothing nonetheless to watch the rain fall, to listen to the rhythmic drumming upon the roof. It is a comfort to him, where most consider it a hindrance; an annoyance.
The question posed to him by the Iudex summons forth a fleeting smile upon the captain's lips. He has seen the man many a time simply standing in the rain without a care whilst others dash by beneath umbrellas, heads bent beneath the downpour as they hurry to seek shelter. He has heard the whispers of those who have witnessed this unusual habit of the Chief Justice - many consider it strange, another example of how other Neuvillette is. Vautrin has never considered it strange.
"I think you will find that it is adults who dislike the rain, Monsieur Neuvillette." He remarks idly, his gaze trained upon a nearby puddle, watching as each ripple overlaps the one preceding it. "Children, I find, can never get enough of it. Just as with most things, the wonder at the world fades as time goes on, and we forget to enjoy the simple things in life."
But he hasn't yet answered his question. I am quite curious to hear your thoughts. It feels meaningful, to fall beneath the Iudex's curious gaze, for his thoughts to be considered important. There is a brief flutter of panic in the captain's chest - what if his answer is not to Neuvillette's satisfaction? What if his value is diminished for it?
"I... I find it a comfort, actually." There is nothing to say but the truth, and hope it is what Neuvillette wishes to hear. "And it has... fond memories, for me." He takes a step forward, relinquishing the cover that has kept him dry thus far. As soon as the first drops hit, he tips back his head, turns his face to the sky.
"My sister loved the rain more than she ever loved the sun. She was forever splashing around in puddles, spinning and twirling beneath the downpour, and always, always, with a smile on her face. It would take us twice as long to get home because she would hop from puddle to puddle along the way. Truth be told, I never hurried her. I didn't want to ruin her fun, even if I knew we'd be scolded by our parents for being late, for ruining our clothes. It was always worth the telling off, to see her so happy."
He closes his eyes then, just for a moment, and he can almost hear her delightful laughter ringing in his ears, the joyful shriek as he jumps, deliberately, into the puddle beside her, splashing them both up to their knees with water. He can see the brilliant smile as she dances beneath the rain, droplets scattering from her twirling hair and skirt.
And oh, how his heart aches.
"Rain is... music." With deep regret his eyes open slowly, blinking away the drops that have accumulated upon his lashes. "The way it strikes a different sound when it falls upon different textures, the rhythm it holds... For me, Neuvillette, there is nothing more beautiful than the song nature can create."
There's a pause, then, in which the captain hurriedly lowers his head, casts his gaze aside. Embarrassment, perhaps, at the baring of his soul so unexpectedly, a glimpse of the raw emotion that still lingers at his core. He wonders if perhaps he has crossed a line by being so... honest, so informal. Yet it is a mark, indeed, of the ease he feels in the presence of the Iudex, that he was able to lower his guard and speak of something so precious to him.
He blames Carole, of course. She has softened too many of his edges, it seems.
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