[ And it does, because his footing has changed. He knows Kagari senses it, the difference in their address. How he's leveled out, sharp words falling by the wayside. There are turning points in everyone's life and Ginoza has been through his second one. First it'd been his father becoming a latent criminal, leaving him and his mother behind to deal with the fallout. With the stigma. He survived it all but not without scraping away at his edges, building layers of armor.
Then it'd been Kogami, treading the same path. Sasayama's death pushing him over the edge where Ginoza couldn't join him.
Except he had. Masaoka was gone for good this time. He'd never hear his father's gruff voice telling a joke, nor catch the careful lines of worry around his eyes. He'd cared about his son and Gino had thrown it in his face. It'd been a mistake, something he couldn't take back. But he's determined to learn from it, apply it to something he has control over.
Like here and now, with Kagari. No longer are they divided by roles and he means to hold out a hand to the redhead a second time. Genuinely, without the prompting of Sybil, without the impressive record. Just because he trusts Kagari and wants something good for him, even if it'll never be truly good under Sybil's watchful eye. ]
Neither of us are in for a long life, you know that. A full life– maybe that's still possible.
no subject
[ And it does, because his footing has changed. He knows Kagari senses it, the difference in their address. How he's leveled out, sharp words falling by the wayside. There are turning points in everyone's life and Ginoza has been through his second one. First it'd been his father becoming a latent criminal, leaving him and his mother behind to deal with the fallout. With the stigma. He survived it all but not without scraping away at his edges, building layers of armor.
Then it'd been Kogami, treading the same path. Sasayama's death pushing him over the edge where Ginoza couldn't join him.
Except he had. Masaoka was gone for good this time. He'd never hear his father's gruff voice telling a joke, nor catch the careful lines of worry around his eyes. He'd cared about his son and Gino had thrown it in his face. It'd been a mistake, something he couldn't take back. But he's determined to learn from it, apply it to something he has control over.
Like here and now, with Kagari. No longer are they divided by roles and he means to hold out a hand to the redhead a second time. Genuinely, without the prompting of Sybil, without the impressive record. Just because he trusts Kagari and wants something good for him, even if it'll never be truly good under Sybil's watchful eye. ]
Neither of us are in for a long life, you know that. A full life– maybe that's still possible.