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[the chorus of blondie's CALL ME, sung extremely poorly but with great enthusiasm]
( text | voice | video | action )
[the chorus of blondie's CALL ME, sung extremely poorly but with great enthusiasm]
( text | voice | video | action )
[Erika's room isn't a very decorated one. Half of it is Futayo's, so, well, uh, hmm. The personal touches to the other half are tightly contained - ornaments from New Aspen laid out in a row on the desk, pillow creatures guarding the end of the bed, Hudie-logo hoodie hanging like a flag on the wall.
She's the messiest thing in here right now, running a fever and still wearing pajamas and feeling poorly equipped to be awake. Sleep came and went and left her groggy and clumsy and bored, and left her butterflies strewn limply around the room, lying out like someone tripped and spilled them across the bed and the floor.
She's pouring her discontent into messily dissecting a Potatostation when noise arrives at the door, and putting it down and getting there is slow, achy business that etches a grouchy frown onto her face.
(Not that you can see it behind the surgical mask. Sick she may be, but a disease vector? No way.)]
She's the messiest thing in here right now, running a fever and still wearing pajamas and feeling poorly equipped to be awake. Sleep came and went and left her groggy and clumsy and bored, and left her butterflies strewn limply around the room, lying out like someone tripped and spilled them across the bed and the floor.
She's pouring her discontent into messily dissecting a Potatostation when noise arrives at the door, and putting it down and getting there is slow, achy business that etches a grouchy frown onto her face.
(Not that you can see it behind the surgical mask. Sick she may be, but a disease vector? No way.)]
Edited 2019-01-24 02:25 (UTC)
[The truth of the matter is that he'd have jiggled the door open with his elbow if he had to. He was halfway expecting that anyway. He's used to two kinds of sick people: the Narancias of the world, aka normal people, who lie in bed and whine about how shitty they feel, and the Fugos of the world who would rather die than admit they're sick and need some help.]
[His instinct is that Erika's the latter. That's why he's here. And even if he's wrong, it's not like anybody sane in the world is gonna say no to chicken soup and crackers when they're sick.]
[So he's in the process of juggling the tray he's carrying into one hand so he can reach for the handle himself when Erika opens the door. He blinks, nonplussed, and then waggles the tray around dangerously.]
Room service! [At least he's pitched his voice down to something approaching normal. He's gotten kicked in the shins too many times for yelling while somebody's sick not to know better by now.] You didn't hafta get up. You look like a goddamn bus hit you. [Could you not.]
[His instinct is that Erika's the latter. That's why he's here. And even if he's wrong, it's not like anybody sane in the world is gonna say no to chicken soup and crackers when they're sick.]
[So he's in the process of juggling the tray he's carrying into one hand so he can reach for the handle himself when Erika opens the door. He blinks, nonplussed, and then waggles the tray around dangerously.]
Room service! [At least he's pitched his voice down to something approaching normal. He's gotten kicked in the shins too many times for yelling while somebody's sick not to know better by now.] You didn't hafta get up. You look like a goddamn bus hit you. [Could you not.]
[Oh.
It's this guy.]
Yes I did, [she croaks, pointing at him with less force of will but absolutely as much jackass-stubborn attitude as usual.] It's my room.
[That she has been seen kissing her girlfriend in his room does not cut the matter-of-factness she says that with at all. Neither does the fact that she's about to just step away and let him in, dragging her feet all the way back across the room to her bed, where stuffed animals, rumpled sheets, a gutted Potatostation, and a bunch of flopping butterflies await her return.]
Thanks.
[jackass....
stubborn]
It's this guy.]
Yes I did, [she croaks, pointing at him with less force of will but absolutely as much jackass-stubborn attitude as usual.] It's my room.
[That she has been seen kissing her girlfriend in his room does not cut the matter-of-factness she says that with at all. Neither does the fact that she's about to just step away and let him in, dragging her feet all the way back across the room to her bed, where stuffed animals, rumpled sheets, a gutted Potatostation, and a bunch of flopping butterflies await her return.]
Thanks.
[jackass....
stubborn]
Oh, Mista-kun!! There you are!
[Kaede's voice rings loud and clear as she catches sight of her target walking on the other side of the street and immediately starts jogging toward him. Could she just walk? Yes. Will she? Not this time.]
I was starting to get worried I wouldn't find you... I have something for you!
[Kaede's voice rings loud and clear as she catches sight of her target walking on the other side of the street and immediately starts jogging toward him. Could she just walk? Yes. Will she? Not this time.]
I was starting to get worried I wouldn't find you... I have something for you!
[Sometimes, you just have to jog everywhere you go. Sometimes, you act genki even when you're not. Mista, for his part, is performing a grade-A stroll, hands in his pockets and humming tunelessly to what he remembers from Stylosa's latest song, when . . . suddenly there's a girl hollering at him.]
[So he stops. Duh. Even if he is a little (visibly) surprised as he turns towards her.]
You wha? [A genius...... The World's Smartest Man.]
[So he stops. Duh. Even if he is a little (visibly) surprised as he turns towards her.]
You wha? [A genius...... The World's Smartest Man.]
I have something for you! [she repeats, no less cheerfully. Did she fucking stutter, Mista??
Give her a second, she has to shrug her backpack off and dig through it for a few seconds before reemerging with an,] Ah-ha! [of triumph as she pulls out a small bag and offers it to him in both hands.]
It's chocolate... where I come from, girls give chocolates to boys they're friends with or people they work with. So! I got these for you.
Give her a second, she has to shrug her backpack off and dig through it for a few seconds before reemerging with an,] Ah-ha! [of triumph as she pulls out a small bag and offers it to him in both hands.]
It's chocolate... where I come from, girls give chocolates to boys they're friends with or people they work with. So! I got these for you.
Wait, seriously?
[Look, obviously he's taking the chocolate, he's not an asshole. He's confused, though, that much is clear. He's very much from a culture where he is supposed to give presents to girls, and then they are supposed to reject them and laugh at him but in a good-natured way. This is a lot to take in.]
You just give chocolates to guys whenever you — [Wait. Calibrating. Mista.exe is rebooting. And counting in his head.]
Holy shit, is it Valentine's Day? [oh my god. bear with him kaede hes so dumb]
[Look, obviously he's taking the chocolate, he's not an asshole. He's confused, though, that much is clear. He's very much from a culture where he is supposed to give presents to girls, and then they are supposed to reject them and laugh at him but in a good-natured way. This is a lot to take in.]
You just give chocolates to guys whenever you — [Wait. Calibrating. Mista.exe is rebooting. And counting in his head.]
Holy shit, is it Valentine's Day? [oh my god. bear with him kaede hes so dumb]
[It's a good thing he got it, because explaining it just makes it sound dumb! His reaction just makes her laugh, though, and she clasps her hands behind her back.]
Yeah, it is! The chocolates are a little spicy... I hope you like them!
Do they have Valentine's Day where you're from, Mista-kun?
[It's only after she asks that she realizes if he recognized what it is, of course he has it, or some version of it. But the question has already been released into the wild.]
Yeah, it is! The chocolates are a little spicy... I hope you like them!
Do they have Valentine's Day where you're from, Mista-kun?
[It's only after she asks that she realizes if he recognized what it is, of course he has it, or some version of it. But the question has already been released into the wild.]
Yeah, I like spicy stuff.
[
The chocolate has A Flavor . . . that's so fancy. He is torn about whether to open the bag now and eat one, or to save it for later. Probably he will choose to eat it, though. Delayed gratification isn't really a thing for this one.]
We have it, yeah, but usually it's guys giving girls stuff. Or sometimes people giving each other stuff. [He's . . . a little pink.] And it's not usually friends so I don't have anything ready for you. [He is going to Die Of Shame. But at least he'll die eating choco.]
[
The chocolate has A Flavor . . . that's so fancy. He is torn about whether to open the bag now and eat one, or to save it for later. Probably he will choose to eat it, though. Delayed gratification isn't really a thing for this one.]We have it, yeah, but usually it's guys giving girls stuff. Or sometimes people giving each other stuff. [He's . . . a little pink.] And it's not usually friends so I don't have anything ready for you. [He is going to Die Of Shame. But at least he'll die eating choco.]
[He is more than welcome to eat them now! She certainly isn't going to stop him. They are figuratively and quite literally out of her hands.]
Oooh... No, we have another holiday for guys to give girls stuff. It's called White Day, a month later! Guys are supposed to give gifts back to all the girls who got them stuff, with some kind of white theme.
...Oh! [Belatedly, and very firmly, she puffs her cheeks out with a frown and rests her hands on her hips,] You don't have to get me anything though, Mista-kun. I just wanted to do something nice for all my friends here!
Oooh... No, we have another holiday for guys to give girls stuff. It's called White Day, a month later! Guys are supposed to give gifts back to all the girls who got them stuff, with some kind of white theme.
...Oh! [Belatedly, and very firmly, she puffs her cheeks out with a frown and rests her hands on her hips,] You don't have to get me anything though, Mista-kun. I just wanted to do something nice for all my friends here!
Huh. [He peers into the bag, considering this information. So this is cultural exchange. He's intrigued by this concept, the idea that everybody has a particular day to give chocolate and to receive it. It kind of makes sense. Mostly.]
[White Day. His expression goes thoughtful. Well, he sure as fuck can't make chocolate. It'd be a bad idea. He'd just give Kaede food poisoning. He'll have to think of something else—]
[Oh. She thinks she can stop him. He grins, putting one hand (the non-chocolate-holding hand) on his hip and puffing out his cheeks in imitation of her. It's actually a pretty good imitation? Rude.]
What if I wanna do something nice for you back? What're you gonna do about it?
[White Day. His expression goes thoughtful. Well, he sure as fuck can't make chocolate. It'd be a bad idea. He'd just give Kaede food poisoning. He'll have to think of something else—]
[Oh. She thinks she can stop him. He grins, putting one hand (the non-chocolate-holding hand) on his hip and puffing out his cheeks in imitation of her. It's actually a pretty good imitation? Rude.]
What if I wanna do something nice for you back? What're you gonna do about it?
[you know how sometimes you try to fight a pirate and the pirate's got a goddamn universal cheat code of a sword, and all you've got is a universal embarrassment of a sword, and then you kind of fall off the face of the earth for two weeks while your mother from another universe was scolding you for getting possessed]
[it really is like that sometimes]
[anyway, hi Mista! here's a text after said two weeks:]
hey
[it really is like that sometimes]
[anyway, hi Mista! here's a text after said two weeks:]
hey
[It's been a rough couple weeks. A busy couple, fortunately, but that doesn't mean worries aren't still worrying. So it's a good thing the bracers aren't even remotely removable because Mista sure would drop his at this text otherwise.]
DAVE
[oh he must be forgiven then]
are you ok???
DAVE
[oh he must be forgiven then]
are you ok???
yeah of course
ive got my own sick boombox and everything
like i just cruised off this ship straight out of the 80s
minus the nylon
i dont have the nylon
tbh i dont want the nylon
[he's joking around because it's better than acknowledging the sort of soul snatched headspace he actually has been in these past two weeks.]
anyway
where are you rn
ive got my own sick boombox and everything
like i just cruised off this ship straight out of the 80s
minus the nylon
i dont have the nylon
tbh i dont want the nylon
[he's joking around because it's better than acknowledging the sort of soul snatched headspace he actually has been in these past two weeks.]
anyway
where are you rn
nope
literally never
[i want to ask when Dave got so shitty at lying, but lbr, he's always been this way.]
okay hang on a sec kate
lemme catch up to the 90s
[that is to say, about five minutes later, there's a son joining Mista on deck. he looks a bit bedraggled, but not all that worse for the wear.]
literally never
[i want to ask when Dave got so shitty at lying, but lbr, he's always been this way.]
okay hang on a sec kate
lemme catch up to the 90s
[that is to say, about five minutes later, there's a son joining Mista on deck. he looks a bit bedraggled, but not all that worse for the wear.]
[Obediently, he waits. But when Dave makes it up to the deck to find Mista crouched by the front port rail, feet kicking over the edge, he wastes absolutely no time. Twisting at the waist to point accusingly:]
I wouldn't have kicked Leo's ass off that door.
[. . .]
[This is the least serious he's ever been about anything. Which is saying something. His expression is more strained with poorly-disguised concern than anything.]
Get over here.
I wouldn't have kicked Leo's ass off that door.
[. . .]
[This is the least serious he's ever been about anything. Which is saying something. His expression is more strained with poorly-disguised concern than anything.]
Get over here.
[Dave makes the sort of half wobbly expression he does when he's accused of murdering Leonardo DiCaprio and he's trying really hard not to smirk too much over it.]
Yeah, I know, dude. You've got better dance moves, too.
[he obliges, though, not really sure how else to react to the look Mista Winslet is giving him, stepping closer and plopping himself on down.]
Yeah, I know, dude. You've got better dance moves, too.
[he obliges, though, not really sure how else to react to the look Mista Winslet is giving him, stepping closer and plopping himself on down.]
Damn right I do!
[In another situation, he'd let Dave know that he'd be Leo anyway, because he's the scruffy idiot from the wrong side of the tracks. On the plus side, he knows how to swim, so . . . But maybe another time. For now, he just eyeballs Dave as he sits.]
[And then punches his shoulder. Not that hard, but not that not-hard either.]
You fucking people.
[In another situation, he'd let Dave know that he'd be Leo anyway, because he's the scruffy idiot from the wrong side of the tracks. On the plus side, he knows how to swim, so . . . But maybe another time. For now, he just eyeballs Dave as he sits.]
[And then punches his shoulder. Not that hard, but not that not-hard either.]
You fucking people.
What the fuck.
[his tilt over that's short-lived, though; he knows he fucked up five ways to another entire dimension, and if he's going to actually learn anything from being an impulsive try-to-fight-the-final-boss-himself moron, he's going to have to own up to it.]
[he rolls his punched shoulder, all the hells of scandalized, then softens, and slouches.]
Okay, okay, fine, fair enough. I probably deserved that.
[his tilt over that's short-lived, though; he knows he fucked up five ways to another entire dimension, and if he's going to actually learn anything from being an impulsive try-to-fight-the-final-boss-himself moron, he's going to have to own up to it.]
[he rolls his punched shoulder, all the hells of scandalized, then softens, and slouches.]
Okay, okay, fine, fair enough. I probably deserved that.
[Yeah, good. He's not fucking Narancia, he's not gonna pick a full-fledged knives-out fight over being freaked out, but. This sucked. This whole thing sucked.]
I know there was shit about that whole situation you couldn't control. 'M not mad about that shit. Just don't — I don't know.
[The weak little kick-punch on the inside of his ribs that signifies Cinque wanting to come out — he clenches down on it, flops sideways and bumps Dave's shoulder with his own before righting himself.]
You coulda asked for help, man.
I know there was shit about that whole situation you couldn't control. 'M not mad about that shit. Just don't — I don't know.
[The weak little kick-punch on the inside of his ribs that signifies Cinque wanting to come out — he clenches down on it, flops sideways and bumps Dave's shoulder with his own before righting himself.]
You coulda asked for help, man.
[Dave's quiet for a few seconds, unusual for a kid who tends to spout off whatever he thinks of the second it comes to mind.]
[that's because he's actually trying to be sincere here.]
Yeah. I guess.
[still ... trying.]
I don't wanna say that hindsight's perfect vision or something dumb like that, because that'd mean I'd be talking from the perspective of my ass — [Dave, why do you have to ruin every saying you touch.] — but, uh.
I dunno. I freaked out, and I'm used to handling shit like this by myself. Time loop shit. Thought it was time loop shit anyway. Turned out to be more like, stop and think for five seconds shit.
[that's because he's actually trying to be sincere here.]
Yeah. I guess.
[still ... trying.]
I don't wanna say that hindsight's perfect vision or something dumb like that, because that'd mean I'd be talking from the perspective of my ass — [Dave, why do you have to ruin every saying you touch.] — but, uh.
I dunno. I freaked out, and I'm used to handling shit like this by myself. Time loop shit. Thought it was time loop shit anyway. Turned out to be more like, stop and think for five seconds shit.
[For what it's worth, Mista appreciates the effort. He doesn't quite get it, himself — the obnoxious jokes part, anyway — but he's familiar with the desire to divert attention away from one's own shit by any means necessary. Trying to stop any habit's fucking hard.]
[And he's not here to lecture, either, because that'd be hypocritical as fuck and he doesn't even know how to. Instead he listens, head cocked slightly to the side so he can hear Dave properly over the occasional gust of wind.]
I can't really blame you for freaking out. Time shit's the freakiest, and I never even had to mess with loops. [He has a slightly queasy expression at this point. Skips were bad enough thanks!!!] And I can't blame you for that moment of — okay, I know I know how to deal with what I think this is, no need to drag anybody else into it. 'Cause you're the expert, right?
Stopping and thinking for five seconds sucks sometimes. Especially when you're freaking out and mad.
[And he's not here to lecture, either, because that'd be hypocritical as fuck and he doesn't even know how to. Instead he listens, head cocked slightly to the side so he can hear Dave properly over the occasional gust of wind.]
I can't really blame you for freaking out. Time shit's the freakiest, and I never even had to mess with loops. [He has a slightly queasy expression at this point. Skips were bad enough thanks!!!] And I can't blame you for that moment of — okay, I know I know how to deal with what I think this is, no need to drag anybody else into it. 'Cause you're the expert, right?
Stopping and thinking for five seconds sucks sometimes. Especially when you're freaking out and mad.
That's implying to me that you deal with freaky time shit on the regular.
[that thought is spiced with bland, then somewhat bitter, amusement. he'd found peace with not being able to time travel when he first lost the ability, which melted into blind panic over the fact that Ryuji was dead and he couldn't, which reformed into hating it all over again, because trying to figure out how to prevented him from seeing what he really needed to see in the first place.]
[that he never needed time travel at all.]
[Dave's on the cusp of admitting a real vulnerability here; he's been spending the past year and change trying to figure out how to be honest with his feelings instead of slapping a joke on them and calling them done, even though he did technically just do that, didn't he? he stares off into the horizon like a pensive anime character, ultimately deciding that he trusts Mista enough.]
You know what fucking sucks the worst though? Like. If I had stopped and thought about it for five seconds like I just said, instead of reteaching myself the same "time travel is never the answer you dumpass" lesson that I already knew, then it wouldn't have.
[ugh.]
He wouldn't have had to suffer as long as he did, I guess.
[that thought is spiced with bland, then somewhat bitter, amusement. he'd found peace with not being able to time travel when he first lost the ability, which melted into blind panic over the fact that Ryuji was dead and he couldn't, which reformed into hating it all over again, because trying to figure out how to prevented him from seeing what he really needed to see in the first place.]
[that he never needed time travel at all.]
[Dave's on the cusp of admitting a real vulnerability here; he's been spending the past year and change trying to figure out how to be honest with his feelings instead of slapping a joke on them and calling them done, even though he did technically just do that, didn't he? he stares off into the horizon like a pensive anime character, ultimately deciding that he trusts Mista enough.]
You know what fucking sucks the worst though? Like. If I had stopped and thought about it for five seconds like I just said, instead of reteaching myself the same "time travel is never the answer you dumpass" lesson that I already knew, then it wouldn't have.
[ugh.]
He wouldn't have had to suffer as long as he did, I guess.
I did once. For a while.
[Not as often as Dave, he can already tell that much. There are grooves worn in Dave's habits, in his being, that mean living with something as raw and strange as time moving wrong for weeks, months, years — he doesn't know. It doesn't matter. A long time.]
[Mista can be quiet when he wants to be. Quiet spaces in life are to be treasured: last little vestiges of lazy Saturdays bleeding into early Sundays with the sun fading in through stained glass windows and fresh bread in a paper bag under his arm on the way home. As much as he knows this moment is Dave deciding whether or not to say something that matters, he takes it for what it is. A little quiet. A little time with someone important to him.]
[And when Dave speaks, he turns just a little to look at him, takes his hat off and holds it in his hands to keep it from blowing off into the sea, and to give him something to hold onto. This, he thinks, is why he didn't punch Dave harder. Of course he's already beating himself up.]
I hear you.
[Quiet, low; it's important to say, first thing. That does fucking suck the worst, as it happens. That sucks the most of anything. That's his greatest fear: making some dumb fuckoff mistake and turning around and someone's dead, because of him. Just because Ryuji came back—]
[It's still awful.]
. . . Sometimes it seems like, once you've seen enough shit, your brain just keeps giving you the same advice anytime anything bad happens. Even if you know it's crap advice, it's just gonna scream at you until you do it.
Not saying it doesn't still suck the absolute fucking worst. I'm just saying. You know. [You know. Dave's not the only one who sucks.]
[Not as often as Dave, he can already tell that much. There are grooves worn in Dave's habits, in his being, that mean living with something as raw and strange as time moving wrong for weeks, months, years — he doesn't know. It doesn't matter. A long time.]
[Mista can be quiet when he wants to be. Quiet spaces in life are to be treasured: last little vestiges of lazy Saturdays bleeding into early Sundays with the sun fading in through stained glass windows and fresh bread in a paper bag under his arm on the way home. As much as he knows this moment is Dave deciding whether or not to say something that matters, he takes it for what it is. A little quiet. A little time with someone important to him.]
[And when Dave speaks, he turns just a little to look at him, takes his hat off and holds it in his hands to keep it from blowing off into the sea, and to give him something to hold onto. This, he thinks, is why he didn't punch Dave harder. Of course he's already beating himself up.]
I hear you.
[Quiet, low; it's important to say, first thing. That does fucking suck the worst, as it happens. That sucks the most of anything. That's his greatest fear: making some dumb fuckoff mistake and turning around and someone's dead, because of him. Just because Ryuji came back—]
[It's still awful.]
. . . Sometimes it seems like, once you've seen enough shit, your brain just keeps giving you the same advice anytime anything bad happens. Even if you know it's crap advice, it's just gonna scream at you until you do it.
Not saying it doesn't still suck the absolute fucking worst. I'm just saying. You know. [You know. Dave's not the only one who sucks.]
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