[ And there it is, like how imagines a punch to the gut must feel, all of the air rushing out of his chest with too much aggression to be a sigh.
Robbie knows that drop off. He's done it himself and heard it dozens of times. We understand, but it's the politicians. The press. The average person on the street. They only see you, and how you failed, and they prefer their news stories with a post hoc ergo propter hoc style. The general public sees in black and white and permits sympathy only for starlets and children.
He can't ignore it. He probably should. Everyone can see this. ]
Okay. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to shine a spotlight on it.
[ It feels like such a woefully inadequate apology, though. Robbie can't do it, can't make himself leave the topic alone. He has the chance to be a voice that will feel unbiased, because he just got here. ]
The general public is reactionary. They're quick to blame and slow to forget - they're never going to forget and they're never going to tell you they're sorry. But I am. Because each person is good, and meanwhile the public sucks.
[ He's talking as fast as he can, because this about getting the words out before he runs out of nerve and into a brick wall of buried emotions. ]
But they also don't suck, and I figure you know that. You're a Legionnaire. I know the oath. I took it. Nobody does that if they don't think people are worth protecting. So it hurts, because you care about people on a base level and you want them to care back. But whatever they think, whatever they're screaming, it's going to taper off when the shock wears away. In a couple of years, you'll go online and see that 70% of the public actually likes you again. So you'll sit there and tell yourself that nobody likes everybody, and you'll almost feel better about it.
So I'm glad you don't need my well-being, but you're stuck with it.
[ There. His voice started fraying with strain towards the end, but Robbie managed to not connect the speech to himself, passion aside. He can leave it here and keep some deniability if anyone tries to poke at this. ]
no subject
Robbie knows that drop off. He's done it himself and heard it dozens of times. We understand, but it's the politicians. The press. The average person on the street. They only see you, and how you failed, and they prefer their news stories with a post hoc ergo propter hoc style. The general public sees in black and white and permits sympathy only for starlets and children.
He can't ignore it. He probably should. Everyone can see this. ]
Okay. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to shine a spotlight on it.
[ It feels like such a woefully inadequate apology, though. Robbie can't do it, can't make himself leave the topic alone. He has the chance to be a voice that will feel unbiased, because he just got here. ]
The general public is reactionary. They're quick to blame and slow to forget - they're never going to forget and they're never going to tell you they're sorry. But I am. Because each person is good, and meanwhile the public sucks.
[ He's talking as fast as he can, because this about getting the words out before he runs out of nerve and into a brick wall of buried emotions. ]
But they also don't suck, and I figure you know that. You're a Legionnaire. I know the oath. I took it. Nobody does that if they don't think people are worth protecting. So it hurts, because you care about people on a base level and you want them to care back. But whatever they think, whatever they're screaming, it's going to taper off when the shock wears away. In a couple of years, you'll go online and see that 70% of the public actually likes you again. So you'll sit there and tell yourself that nobody likes everybody, and you'll almost feel better about it.
So I'm glad you don't need my well-being, but you're stuck with it.
[ There. His voice started fraying with strain towards the end, but Robbie managed to not connect the speech to himself, passion aside. He can leave it here and keep some deniability if anyone tries to poke at this. ]