#not kaz over here caught between loving that about baizhu and simultaneously hating it bc it reminds him of himself GFNHJOANDGHFOA IT'S FIN

[greedbent]

Given the dour mood, one would think smiling was wholly inappropriate. And yet, there Kaz was, not even a feeble attempt made to prevent that one corner of his mouth from hooking upward as Baizhu spoke, amusement blowing through his lips on his next breath. “Hoping, wishing, hell, praying to the Archons that they might get off their hands and actually do a damn thing to help their people seems to be the typical route when things feel utterly hopeless,” he murmured. “If you were among the typical, I wouldn’t fault you. Tell yourself what you need to in order to sleep at night.”

Then, another sentiment crept in, like that bubble building within him, on the verge of bursting the very second his diligence wavered and let it slip through. This time, he couldn’t stop it. Or maybe Kaz just didn’t even try:

“But if you were one of those people, I wouldn’t still be here.”

He shrugged like it was obvious. It probably was. Baizhu wasn’t saying all of these things for no reason because he wasn’t the “typical.” He wasn’t saying all of these things simply to make conversation, to waste time that could be better spent. He wasn’t and he didn’t do a damn thing without a purpose—no differently than Kaz himself. Most days, Kaz couldn’t tell if that was refreshing, or if it forced him to look in a mirror he rather wished didn’t exist.

Today . . . ? Well, that smile was still lingering, if that meant anything.

“I don’t play a game without knowing the outcome,” Kaz argued. And a good majority of the time, he could live by that mantra, refuse to involve himself in anything unless he knew for certain what he’d get from it, what the risks were, what his opponent planned on doing every step of the way. The minority of instances, however, and the ones of which Baizhu specifically spoke—?

He hesitated, turning those words over in his head for a sluggish beat.

Somehow, even after the pause, his next statement came easy. “I’d do exactly what you’re doing.” Again, he didn’t have to wonder if Baizhu already knew that. Just like Baizhu didn’t have to ask at all, how he’d done so only for the sake of making a point. It should’ve annoyed him, should’ve made him bristle— How dangerous it was when someone understood you so intimately they practically built a home in your mind without you knowing it.

More dangerous, maybe, was when that expanded to the heart. And was Baizhu already there . . . ? Did he mean for that final statement of his to run a stake right through it?

His weight shifted between his feet. That smile finally faded. A naive, childlike voice in his head complained, Does he really believe his only importance to me is his “value”? The smarter one, and indeed the cold, callous, unforgiving one clapped back immediately, Of course he does. That’s what you told him. That’s what he needs to be—nothing more.

But if that was the case . . . Then what the hell was this whole conversation even about?

“You . . . I didn’t mean—” That naivety temporarily snagged his vocal chords, only to be strangled by them as he cleared his throat and steeled himself. “Your time won’t come soon,” he declared, as resolute as if he had full control over it, as if this was a game to which he knew the ending. In some way, Kaz planned on turning it into that. “I can expend more resources.” I will expend more resources. “I don’t much like leaving things unfinished.”

And I’m not done with you.

For the second time in as many minutes, Baizhu could only blink at his companion's response. Just as quickly, his expression smoothed back to that ever-patient smile, if not still stiff due to the nature of their conversation.

Their partnership had stood the test of time and loyalties, and was beneficial to both sides. Naturally, then, there'd be no reason for the parameters to ever change. It made perfect sense. Baizhu expected nothing less.

"You know, I'm of the belief that we control our lives and our fates for ourselves. I refuse to let an illness seal my fate any more than I would let a person, or even an Archon, make that choice for me. Maybe it's presumptuous of me, but I've always thought that to be a similarity between us."

The doctor leaned back against the shelves, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching Kaz with attentive curiosity. "Surely you've heard the saying, 'life is like a game of cards'? But of course, men like us are not merely complacent players. If I've been dealt a hand that I know can't possibly win, what should I do? Sit idly by, pretending my hands are tied and letting myself lose? Why shouldn't I do whatever it took to give myself a chance?" Golden eyes sharpened; piercing as a snake's fangs. "What would you do?"

The analogy got his point across. But, just maybe, there was a deeper meaning lurking within: a response that Baizhu didn't dare give directly when the parameters weren't his to change.

What else would it be? Why, anything else you wanted, of course. You are not complacent. You make that choice.

After a beat during which those laden words lingered, Baizhu went on, as matter-of-fact as ever, "There's no guarantee it will work even if I do find a way. As you said: it's a last resort. When every breath you take is borrowed and brings you closer to an inevitable early grave..." His lip curled wryly, a half-formed laugh escaping in spite of himself. "I don't expect you to understand that kind of desperation. So what if my search seems mad or hopeless? If there's anything I can do that might change the ending that has been written for me, to make it an ending that I want...how can I do anything but try?"

So saccharine...My, he was getting soft, wasn't he? Or perhaps Kaz had simply found his weak point at last, just like everyone else. With a shake of his head, "At least if my time does come, I can be at rest in the knowledge that I was of some value," he chuckled. A morbid sentiment, perhaps, but sincere.