So, About That Funeral...

BASTIEN I'm all dressed up and naked I see what's mine and take it Bastien was quiet, paying careful attention to all that Rexanna wanted to say. The desperation he felt inside him was enough to make him want to try new things, including actually listening to people when they tried to help him. It helped that Rexanna had a good story, one that sounded like a fairy tale but with a depressing dose of reality tossed in. Once she had done speaking he was quiet for a while, his hands still resting in hers but his eyes focused somewhere beyond her, his mind busy. He had always thought himself kind and good; in some ways this was true. He had helped many people, before. He had encouraged and sponsored and protected, had lifted young souls up to artistic success in a world where they had little chance as they were. He had truly tried his best to help them. But...had it been selfless? Well, no. He had taken 50% of profits, had made them repeat his name, had named the sanctuary after himself, had used their names to further his own...it had not been an entirely altruistic effort. Did that mean he was heartless, without worth? No, it was what he'd had to do to survive as the child of immigrants in the time and place he had lived. But it was not the humbleness, the kindness that Safrin was searching for. "Thank you, Rexanna." He said, then stood, leaned in to kiss her cheek. "You are truly the best of the people here. I...do not know how to begin, helping others. What would they want from me? I can perform, dance, paint...but these things would likely be seen as attention for me again."