estoria | [closed] Don't look down, even though they're looking down on you

Entry tags:

[closed] Don't look down, even though they're looking down on you

Who:

zitteraal
When: A couple days after they've returned to the colony.
Where: Adolf's apartment
What: Adolf let slip he was married, and while Oona dismissed it at first she's now more interested in figuring out how legit that claim is and how much she cares.
Rating/Warning: None...??

['I'm married,' he'd told her. Perhaps not in so many words, but that had been the gist of it. And Oona had laughed and shrugged and wondered why should that matter at all?

But clearly it mattered somehow, in some strange human way Oona couldn't understand. Was it a human thing? Or an Adolf thing? She'd been tempted to ask around the few humans she felt close enough to divulge such information, but it felt like it would have been a violation of trust.

In the end she had sat around and done much of nothing, aware that Adolf was avoiding her those first couple of days. And while her first instinct had been to bulldoze through and demand answers, she had curbed it enough to allow Adolf his space. Sousei, she thinks, would be proud of her for her self-control. (Or maybe he wouldn't, and would have just said it was expected of her so there's no need to get worked up about it or something and dammit even in her own head Sousei can't stop being himself).

But that space could only be given for so long-- Oona was not a very patient person by nature and after about two days she'd decided enough was enough.

So, with the conch shell he'd given her in her hands, and the little Hellhound puppy CYbuddy gifted to her by CERES at her heels, she'd tracked down his apartment. Which is how she found herself in her current predicament. Namely in that Adolf seemed to be trying to ignore her/outlast her or something. Well!!]

I am not leaving until you let me in and we can talk.

[SHE MEANS IT TOO. She's got her device thing, her hellpuppy, and her conch shell. She's good for the long haul here, staking a claim outside his door.

YOUR MOVE, EEL.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Adolf knows more than anyone else that it's juvenile to avoid someone because of a personal misstep; this isn't U-NASA, where people are naturally obliged to stay quiet about their lives outside of work, nor is it the military facility in Germany where his marriage was common knowledge enough that it warranted little to no conversation. This is a strange limbo, where his issues remain largely unknown and his personal hangups even less. Where people might have refrained from discussing Adolf's home life in deference of his status back in his world, those protocols don't apply here, and Adolf is acutely aware of that, even more so than the former acknowledgement of his own childishness.

In short: He Fucked Up.

His marital status is one of those things that manage to be both holy ground and a point of deep, deep personal pain, the latter of which results in feelings of profound guilt, et cetera, ad infinitum. Talking about it isn't something he wants to do, which is also another spiral of negative emotions that's pointless to discuss, but.

If Oona is really planning to camp out in front of his door with her CereVice?

It might just be unavoidable. Not ideal.

With a heavy sigh, he glances down at his blinking device. He doesn't even bother reading the text— instead, he strides over to his front door and opens it without preamble, warning, or reservations. ]

There's nothing to talk about.

[ He's married... what more do u want Oona... ]

[She yelps in surprise at the sudden opening of the door (she'd expected to have to hold out for much longer than this) and turns to blink up at him. Her expression brightens and she smiles instantly, pleased just to see and hear him again. It's like he stopped talking to her for weeks, not just a couple days.

But then her expression becomes slightly exasperated as she stands] There is much to talk about! I am curious! There are many things I do not know abut you, and it is not fair. I want to know everything.

[She'd said something like this before, when they'd talked about favorite foods and innocuous things like that. She clasps her hands behind her back and tilts her head]

And talking helps. If not you, it will help me. [That's...ambiguous.] For mermaids, things like this are different. I do not understand the way humans view it. I want to understand.

It's not my responsibility to explain my private life to you.

[ He says with a degree of definitiveness, which may seem slightly surprising considering how he's usually a bit more pliant with Oona. It's the attitude he took with his subordinates initially, that same distance he put up to tell them not to get too close... not that that worked out for him in the end, anyway. Life is an uphill struggle. ]

There's not much to discuss. I have a wife, if she's still... [ A vague gesture with one hand. As cold as he tries to sound about this, it's still a soft spot that's turned raw. Festering.

The sentence he's about to finish feels too blunt, even for him, so he rephrases. ] ...If anyone can even believe what CERES's told us about our world, she's still alive.

[Her face falls at his tone, hurt and confused at the harshness of it. It's not so much his tone, even, as the words themselves. No, he doesn't have to explain anything, of course; and of course, Oona doesn't expect everyone to be as open and honest about themselves as she is, but...

But when she shares so much of herself, it hurts, a little, to not get anything in return. Her hands drop to her sides. She looks at the conch shell in one hand and suddenly wonders why she brought it at all, feeling silly and uncertain. She hides it futilely behind her back again and struggles for a response.]

I... [A pause.] Suppose... that is true... [Oona trails off, fingers rubbing against the shell for comfort] But I do not know anyone else who is married. Who is here, I mean.

Thought, it should be nice, to talk of marriage. Is it not supposed to be happy thing? But, somehow, it does not seem so, when you act like this... [She's not asking directly for once, but she frowns, feeling like there's some great distance that's opened between them. While before she didn't mind his mild sort of coldness, knowing she could still easily snuggle up to him without fear of reproach, now...

Now it feels like if she tried to touch him, he might actually shock her or something to get her away.

(Not that she truly thinks he would, but...)]

[ Oona took the Realness of his situation from about 30% to 150% with this— is he so obvious about his aversion towards all of this, the answer is probably yes. But it's a defense mechanism, the type some kids resort to when they have bruises and cuts that they laugh about and attribute to cliches like falling down stairs: because if he admits that he doesn't know how to talk about the person who made him human, how can he convince himself of his own humanity? Are his doubts as important as holding on to what little he thought he had?

There's that to contend with, but there's also the issue of turning away this girl, this lonelier-than-she-looks (he assumes, erroneously or no) mermaid who's shown up at his door to demand an explanation for his admittedly poor behavior. The shuffling of his gift out of view indicates her sheepishness, and of course, Adolf feels badly for it. How couldn't he, is probably the better question. ]

I don't know what to say about it.

[ That much is a fact. Funnily enough (or not, really), this is the closest he's been to really emulating how he'd been back in his own world: the kind of guy that people don't want to talk to, lest they be spoken to harshly.

His gaze flicks to the side, as if he's dismissing the subject altogether. But despite that, he breathes a soft exhale. ]

...Don't stay out here all day. Come inside.

[Being invited in is a good sign, right?? Though Oona's fairly sure it's just because eventually the neighbors are going to start poking their heads out in curiosity at the voices in the hall.

Still it seems to perk her up a little, her expression hopeful as she moves past him into his home. Immediately curiosity sets in and she wanders a little, examining the newly restored living room with interest (CERES wasn't kidding about making everything look as good as new).]

You do not have many things. [Did he just not have time to get anything yet, or was he planning on the Spartan lifestyle from the get-go? She sets the shell down and figures 'good enough' in regards to decoration. For now.

But back to the matter at hand. Oona glances over her shoulder at him, considering] The concept of 'marriage' is not unknown to mermaids, but it is still different. We do not have 'weddings' or rings or things like that. I...

[She hesitates lightly and twists her hair around her fingers] Did you... not enjoy your marriage? [Her brow furrows a little in confusion, because the idea of not enjoying it is strange. Why would you marry someone if you didn't enjoy being with them??]

Or, is it simply because of what CERES has said, about worlds being destroyed. Are you worried she is gone forever? [Time to actually be more blunt about these questions, since she's dying to understand better.]

Edited (i just noticed my minor html fail dont mind me) 2015-10-25 01:26 (UTC)

[ The interior of his apartment is as plain as one would imagine: simple furniture, bare-bones accessories. The most significant items he has on display in the immediate vicinity of his living room amount to a wall clock and a coat rack, a few scattered books stacked neatly on a coffeetable. 'Tidy' is probably the most generous assessment you could make about the place.

He makes a vague motion towards the general direction of his armchairs and sofa, indicating that she can make herself comfortable if that's what she wants. His own trajectory takes him towards the kitchen, where he opens the fridge for something to fill silences with. Drinks. Snacks. The usual.

(He hasn't done anything like this in a long while.) ]

Human marriages come with the concept of being monogamous. Usually.

[ Just to clarify, though saying that seems awfully ironic given his circumstances. It's fine, though: he says it without much inflection, and he pops back out into the living room with two glasses of iced tea. ]

...I worry, yeah. But she may be better off. [ 'Without me' goes unsaid, as he sets the tea down in front of Oona. ] It's not anything you should worry about.

Ahh. Mermaid, ehh... Marriages [for lack of a better word and she can't remember if she discussed this with him before so whatever she'll repeat herself if need be.] are not so much. That is, most mermaids have more than one 'husband'. It is all very regulated, there is a lot of conversation that must happen first. Can not just take men without regard to other mates' feelings, things like that. Cannot steal from other mermaids. [An 'etc.' hand gesture.] Some men have more than one wife, but that is not so common and can be difficult. Some mermaids have only one mate, though. That one is not so uncommon.

[She smiles in fond remembrance] My mother only had one. They were very happy. I suppose that is as close to observing a human sort of marriage as I could get... [And she was totally a daddy's girl to the surprise of absolutely no one.

Oona's brow furrows in concern over that comment. Better off? What's that supposed to mean? He can't possibly mean without him around, because why would he think that?? She eyes him critically, frowning, but...Well. Bless her short attention span when it comes to consumables. She wants to say 'of course I'll worry, we're friends, that's what friends do' but she's distracted by the drinks.]

What is that? [GUESS WHO HASN'T HAD ICED TEA BEFORE. Somehow she's managed to avoid it, mostly because she just sticks to water (she had hot tea, once or twice, but never got into the habit of drinking it regularly).

She reaches for the glass in eager curiosity, then hesitates and adds, belatedly, sheepishly:] Thank you. [Manners!! She's trying.]

[ Note to self: Oona is easily distracted by the prospect of food and/or beverages. And opportunities for her to talk about home, which veers towards the side of endearing. ]

Polyamory is a concept for humans, too. But I'm probably not the one you want to talk to about things like that.

[ For several reasons which he won't go into, not right now. But it's the subtle kind of aversion that speaks volumes about him precisely because of the things he doesn't say— that he's not big on anything other than monogamy because he has no frame of reference or skill for that sort of thing.

Awkward, through and through. ]

...That's iced tea. Go ahead, I'll find something to eat. [ A sidelong glance, as he turns towards the kitchen again. ] You were lingering for long enough. You probably haven't eaten much today.

[ Too busy shitposting his CereVice with eel puns... smh, Oona. ]

[Those puns were FLAWLESS and he just won't admit it. Oona is sure at least one got a smile from him.

She tilts her head curiously, mostly because she's never heard of humans adopting the same sort of lifestyle and that's intriguing enough, but Adolf's response is interesting too.] I would not adopt such a life, I think. [She says it before she can really think to stop herself and hesitates, feeling a little silly but she's already started so...] I had planned to 'marry' only one person, when I left home. I wanted...

[She trails off and looks embarrassed, turning the glass in her hands] Wanted to marry a human. I, eh... Suppose I liked romantic things. The stories of mermaids staying with a human. I... wanted something like that. But, knew humans only--usually--kept one at a time. So I wanted that. Just one person.

It sounded... romantic. I liked that. [Her words feel a little disjointed, mostly because she finds it a little embarrassing to talk about. Oona's not the kind of person who most people would think of as being a romantic, and she's aware of that.

She grins sheepishly and takes refuge in the tea, looking a little surprised and curious before she seems to decide she likes it.]

You are right, I did not eat much. Ah, but even if I had I would not say no to food! [When does she ever]

[ The eel doesn't smile!!! But okay, maybe he did find himself being endeared by one or two... "a moray" could melt the coldest of hearts.

Oona's confession about her romantic proclivities hits a chord, because they're the same sort of things that he values. Valued? Tense is tentative here, at best. Discouraging her seems too cruel, even if he operates largely in cruelty to shatter illusions; and besides, that would just come across as bitterness, not helpfulness.

So he opts to put a palm on her head, even while he brushes past Oona to go to the kitchen. An offhanded gesture that comes as quickly as it goes, as if he didn't intend on being kind at all. ]

That's not unreasonable. ...You'll find it.

[ Now to find food so he can stop feeling like his heart's going to burst... ]

...Stay put. Feel free to turn the TV on if you want.

[She tilts her head towards the pat immediately, expression pleased. She watches him go a moment, before calling after his retreating back]

I wish I had met you first. [If she hadn't met those scientists first, maybe her view on humans wouldn't have been so violently skewed. Maybe she could have retained more of that bright-eyed innocence a little while longer.

Her heart aches with the ideas of what could have been, and she wonders just what Adolf would have thought of her younger self.

She releases a breath and leans against the couch a moment to collect herself, before going to settle on it and take him up on the invitation. She doesn't actually intend on stopping on the Days of our Cerealia Lives or anything, but it's there and it's a new episode... Did they find out who Penelope was cheating on William with? Was it the half-brother, or the long-lost amnesiac twin?

Dammit, she'd missed too much being away! And she's totally sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, sipping her tea with a look of rapt attention on the melodrama going down on Adolf's tv.]

[ God Save the Eel.

He hears her on his way to the kitchen, and in the safety and privacy of his space, Adolf scrubs a palm over his face. Holds his sigh, and rests his elbows on the counter and rests his forehead against his knuckles to organize his thoughts.

This is bad, is his first instinct. This isn't good for her.

But the sound of the television turning on drowns out the rest of it, and the background noise that settles into an apartment that usually remains sterile and quiet is a good break from the usual. Adolf bites back a self-deprecating curse in German, pulls out some dip from his fridge instead of mulling over things he has no control over.

He can do that much, at least.

And a few minutes later, when he finally comes back into the living room with what looks like homemade hummus and a bowl full of chips, he has to stop for a second to digest the goings-on on the screen: apparently some woman named Penelope is finding out that Carlos is her long lost twin? Ah, and someone just slapped someone across the face.

His gaze flicks towards Oona, fully expecting her to look exasperated or scornful of human foibles... ]

What is this?

[She's so into it she actually gasps at the slap, and answers Adolf without thinking] Penelope was trying to get Carlos to sleep with her though he is married, but it turns out Carlos is her twin and did not want to tell her, but had to because of this situation. And now she is mad. She is trying to blackmail him now, because she got in trouble and needs money to bail her stupid boyfriend out of debts with bad people.

But, last time she was already trying to blackmail other person, I wonder if it did not turn out...? Ah, I missed too much while we were out of city! [A frustrated noise.] And Carlos is not even actually married, it was misunderstanding. But they are in lie too deeply, and cannot admit to it. And she needs the security. It is a bad situation.

[o...h....

Oona sits up abruptly and looks at him, wide-eyed] Eh! I mean...! It was... I do not-- [how does she twist this without truly lying.]

It was just on! There was arguing, so I stopped to see and, eh... [She blushes brightly and looks away, sulking a little at being caught.]

[ He can tell she's floundering, so he's going to try to give her some positive reinforcement here! Listen, he's not cruel all the time. ]

So you like soap operas.

[ Ah.

He delivers that with all the flatness of someone who's quietly judging this assessment on the inside, but he swears that he's just trying to be neutral about the matter. Which probably doesn't help. ]

What's interesting about this one.

[ Again, this sounds incredibly dry... but yet again, he's just trying to strike up conversation.

#justawkwardeelthings ]

[She purses her lips, embarrassed, and frowns at him suspiciously. Was he making fun of her? After a moment she settles back against the couch and eyes that tv-- nothing too important going on right now, she assumes, so it should be safe to talk for a bit.]

They are interesting. There is not as much romance--I do not like the cheating and lying and things, but it seems a very... eh, human thing? There is many of it in books and movies and shows. But I like romance when it is there. And the fighting is interesting.

But, I know-- or, at least, I hope, human marriages are not as... [what's the word she wants to use here??] crazy as they are shown here. It is why I thought to ask you. I knew it could not be entirely true. [She shrugs as if to say 'but what do I know?' She also thought humans weren't so cruel as to see her as so inhuman that she wasn't worthy of human decency or respect, so, you know. Live and learn.]

But it is so frustrating! If people would just talk there would not be so many misunderstandings! Ah, for example! Charlotte saw Will talking to another girl and he hugged her. She did not think to just ask or to wait and see, she stomped away and began planning revenge. But, girl was only his sister, who he had not seen in many years! Will was stabbed, and for nothing! It is so stupid. Humans can be so stupid.

[Oona tilts her head, amused, and sips her tea again] Perhaps, I simply like having more to make fun of humans about... Think that, too, is part of it.

[ 'Crazy'. He wants to tell her that all he knows are promises that weren't kept, that sometimes rings are collars and they tighten and leave bruises on his heart that hurt far more than the burns and scars riddling the outlines of his physical body.

The armchair adjacent to the sofa that Oona is occupying creaks under his weight. Somehow, it feels appropriate not to sit next to her, for reasons he's aware of. She's reminding him of words like 'cheating' and 'lying'. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he's as complicit in his own misery as his wife is. Was.

Whatever.

He offers Oona some chips and dip, watches her talk with a fascination that he barely conceals. ]

Sometimes, talking is difficult. Some humans aren't strong enough for honesty.

[ That's not the fault of the marriage label, he realizes. His head tilts, bangs wipe over the bridge of his nose. ]

Do you ever think about it. What things would be like if you were less honest.

[While she's not surprised he didn't choose to sit on the couch with her, there's a minor pang of disappointment. Sure she's perfectly aware that this isn't the time or place to go crawling onto his lap, but...

She wonders if he counts himself among those humans. She wants to ask, but he's asking his own questions and she hesitates.] I... was not always honest. I have made this choice. Mermaids are not, by nature, truthful beings. [Her smile is sarcastic, a little self-depreciating]

You know those stories, yes? Am sure you have heard. Of mermaids drowning sailors, things like that. We sing and promise pretty lies to draw them in, then drown them and wreck their ships. [A pause.] Stories, yes, but most stories have truth in them somewhere. And things are not done like that much anymore. [not with how dangerous humans have become. Yay for technology marching on!

She leans against the couch and nibbles at the chips and hummus curiously (and seems to decide she likes it well enough, even if the texture of the hummus is a little strange to her)]

But I know what things would be like. I am capable of lying, but I do not want to. Humans lied to me all the time I have known them, and I decided I would distance myself from humanity as much as possible. My first step was to stop lying.

If I lied more... Suppose life would be easier. People like lies. They can be pretty and they can soothe hurts. People would not get so mad. Honesty is ugly and hurtful.

However... When you are honest to people, even meanly so, they are honest back. Maybe not in their words, but in how they react to you. I think it says far more about people how they react to honesty than how they react to lies. I would prefer that honesty and an idea of how a person can truly be, rather than the lie they put on for people. It is the eyes, usually, where you can see it most.

[She glances to Adolf to catch his eye, searching, before she looks away again. She won't say what she sees there when she looks at him.

And it occurs to her that she's again revealing far more about herself than he is about himself; though she supposes it's what he isn't saying that's just as telling.]

I am not sure if that answer made sense, or answered your question.

[ As always, he listens. Absorbs, the way he sat quietly in cafeterias ages ago in high school, listening to his newly-made schoolmates talk about friends they had, parties they went to. Frames of reference. Things to understand, empathize with.

Adolf catches himself knitting his fingers over his mouth, lacing his joints together at the knuckles to hide his jaw under his palms. Oona says that she tried to distance herself from the humanity that was presented to her for all those years, but the irony is that she's an example of the sort of justness he expected from people, biting words and blatant requests and all. ]

Yeah, I understand. [ He does— it's the giving and taking she wants, the reciprocity. Onesidedness is exhausting; no-sidedness even more so. And as neutral as Adolf keeps his expression, his melancholy is right there in his eyes, a steady fatalism that's softened by acknowledgement that yeah, her words ring true to him. He gets it. ] It makes sense.

[ (In Mars, he would've come to this realization with the taste of his blood in his mouth, on shaking legs and screaming bones: that he doesn't want to lie anymore.) ]

—Sometimes, I think about it. If I expected too much. If I asked for too much. [ This is coming out of nowhere, he knows, but there's a point in this somewhere. Disjointed, clumsy. He'll try to segue more neatly into his conclusion soon, promise. ] But thinking about that is fruitless and pointless, in the end.

[ His exhale is soft but sincere, as close to a laugh as he can manage it to be. ]

Though, if I were more honest like you, maybe she would have been more honest with me. [ One hand untangles itself from the other, waves to the side. ] I told you before. You're strong.

Edited 2015-10-28 02:07 (UTC)

[Oona watches him with sharp eyes, cutting and dissecting the pieces that make up both him and his answer to her. her head tilts, her hair brushes against her nose as she falls, but she doesn't flinch.]

She hurt you.

[A statement, not a question. She doesn't understand how or why; for now she won't ask for the details. But it's enough to put together ("maybe she would have been more honest with me," expecting too much, asking too much...), something went wrong and it's something that bothers Adolf deeply no matter how much he tries to ignore it.

Her stupid, stupid eel.

The glass is set aside and Oona raises slowly, crossing to him on the chair. She stands before him a moment, quiet and searching, before reaching out to brush her hands against his face. She cradles him gently, the way she did when they were trying to challenge each other to silence. The pads of her thumbs brush against his skin, mindful of his exposed teeth.

For a long moment she says nothing, just brushing his skin in a soothing gesture as she searches for-- What? Something in her? Something in him? There's no expectations to her gaze-- she doesn't demand anything from him, or anyone, that they can't or won't give her. She won't make demands now. She won't tell him to tell her everything, she won't demand answers from him or explanations.]

Everyone has ability to be strong. It is true strength to acknowledge it, to take it, and to make it your own. To draw strength from others, too, is not a weakness, you know.

I am strong, you say. Alright. I will be strong. And, if you need, I will be strong enough for two. You can be strong too, but until you can acknowledge it... I will share my strength with you.

[ Oona has her fingers on his face, tracing the angles of his artifice and the spot where skin meets metal, and he tries to find an adjective to attribute to how he feels about it: relieved? Peaceful? Guilty?

He closes his eyes. Acquiesces, because he doesn't quite know what else to do but let Oona's small frame stand above him. He'll wait until she's done.

Nothing is said about the truth of his hurt, because it's obvious enough. ]

—Don't be stupid. You have better things to do.

[ But he's thankful; his words verge on dismissal but they don't quite get there, given the topic of conversation and given what he really wants to say. His posture straightens as the cushions under him sink down, and his long hair sifts over the tops of Oona's fingers. ]

But, thanks. [ He clears his throat. ] ...It's a work in progress.

[ That's definitely honest, and he almost smiles about it, almost. ]

It is my choice. [Better things to do? Hardly.] What could be more important? [It's said as if this should be terribly obvious, that there should be no doubt helping him is the most important thing right now!

As he straightens, she brings one hand up to play with his hair w little, rubbing the strands between her fingers before her hands drop to his shoulders. She smiles again] Admitting it means you are making progress already.

[She steps closer until her knees bump against him and she leans in. No kissing, he'd say, and she knows better than to try. Instead she rests her forehead against his and closes her eyes, evening her breathing. It's not a kiss, but it's an affectionate gesture nonethless if trust, of belief in him.

Oona hasn'tgotten all the answers she wanted, perhaps, but she's made other important discoveries that matter just as much.

He called her strong, but in the face of the emotions she can feel stirring in her, she feels very weak indeed.

She pulls back and steps away to give him space (and herself breathing room before she gives into the urge to try and snuggle up to him) and rests her hands on her hips.]

See? This visit was s good things after all! You should never doubt me. But her tone is lightly teasing]

Edited (Phone tags fml) 2015-10-28 04:03 (UTC)

[ There's a warning that should've springloaded onto his lips, the same stern disclaimer telling Oona to not get too close— but it doesn't get there, gets lost under a forest of Oona's hair from where she leans in and rests skin against skin.

The gesture is like a breath of fresh air, and it comes and goes like a breeze. Once she pulls away, Adolf feels just a little colder for lack of proximity. ]

...It was more like a home invasion.

[ He picks up on the teasing, and tosses the sentiment back at her while he combs a hand through his hair, places everything back into position. ]

You didn't have to keep texting so frequently.

An invasion! [She laughs easily and settles back down on the couch with a grin] If that is the case, than I am taking over now. You may continue to bring me food. [how gracious...

She looks comically surprised by the idea that she was texting too much] Eh? Why not? You just do not want to admit the eels were cute and funny! [Those eel memes are flawless and she will hear none of it.

Actually this reminds her! She eagerly grabs her device.] Oh, look!

[She sends a text. It's just: <>< and she looks up at him eagerly before bursting out:] It is a fish!

[Another text: <>< <>< <>< <>< <><
<>< <>< <><
<>< <>< <>< <>< <>< ]

A school!

[ His device buzzes when Oona sends him the first fish, and then buzzes with the next bombardment of emoticon fish... why this. Why is this now...his life?!

The wind's been taken out of his sails, and it almost seems stupid to carry on being morose when Oona is showing him how to make fish with pixels. Ah, well.

Flipping his CereVice into his hands, he texts Oona back with a simple: ]

＜コ：ミ

[ He only remembers this because he had a superior who would send him emoticons for no reason (here's looking at you, Komachi). ]

Don't get too out of hand with the texts.

[her mouth drops open in unadulterated surprise and she cries out in delight.] A squid!

[She spends a blissfully silent 2 minutes figuring out how he did it. ＜コ：ミ

[Yes!! She looks so happy.]

Eh? I will not. [Of course, their definitions of 'out of hand' might differ greatly...

She fiddles with her device some more before pouting lightly and handing it off to her little hellhound cybuddy, which takes it gently in its mouth, sets it down on the couch, and then lays on it to guard it.] Was trying to figure out if I could make eel, but it is difficult. I will keep working on it.

[oh she's missed like the majority of her show now... Dammit, Adolf. Oh well, she'll be able to catch reruns, probably.]

Ahh, shh shh! They are going to reveal if Kara is pretending to be her own twin or not! You made me miss everything else, do not make me miss this! [SERIOUS BUSINESS THINGS.]

[ WOW... making it out like he's the one that distracted her?! How rude.

But the music is swelling and the tears are flowing, so Adolf won't disturb her further by talking over these confessions. He gets up from the chair, testing his joints (it's been so long since he's run diagnostics on his body, it's almost alarming) before he sneaks behind the couch that Oona is perched on to go back into the kitchen. Maybe he can make a light meal, while she's busy watching TV.

Before he goes, though, he reaches out and tucks a piece of hair out of Oona's face, gently moves the long strands behind her ear so that they won't be in the way. ]

...Make yourself comfortable, then.

[ His fingers linger for a second before they disappear with the rest of him, back into the safety of his private space. ]

[She tilts her head slightly at the gesture, turning to follow his path into the kitchen as he goes. It's a good thing he can't see the way her eyes widen, or the red that bloom against her skin when she reaches up to mimic the path his fingers took.

Her heart is pounding too loudly in her chest, she's completely missing whatever confession is going on on the tv (context clues, she can figure it out, Kara killed her twin and took her place), but that hardly matters right now.

She settles back against the couch and brings her knees up again, looking to her cybuddy with a helpless look.

'I'm in trouble,' she thinks.

Oona flops herself onto her side, hugging one of the throw pillows close as she stares at the screen and tries to get back into it. But it's been a pretty long day; she hadn't slept since the day before thanks to work and being too busy worrying about confronting Adolf. Now that all of the danger has passed, the exhaustion comes.

Well ,a little nap wouldn't hurt, right?? Surely Adolf will wake her so she can eat. She'll just rest her eye for a minute or two....

Which is how Oona ends up totally passing out here on Adolf's couch. She totally sleeps with her mouth open and drools a little on his throw pillow, sorry eelfriend....]

[ Cooking is therapeutic: it's a process that doesn't fail him, with careful measurements that yield proper results. Some people call it busywork, but even the repetitiveness of some of the tasks doesn't faze Adolf much— he gets so caught up in it that he doesn't even realize that the living room has become quiet, not by virtue of the TV having been turned off, but because the electric potential that buzzes from that general direction has settled.

When he eventually pokes his head back to where he expects Oona to patiently be watching her programs, he finds that she's...asleep. Again. It pulls up memories of finding her nestled on the ground all those weeks ago, asleep with her hair scattered along grass.

So.

Adolf sighs, turns off the oven. He supposes that it's his fault, really— he made her come all the way here, just because of his refusal to discuss matters more civilly.

And he's careful when he reaches down to pick Oona up, careful about looping his arms under her to settle her weight against his chest. As exasperated as the furrow of his brow and the harsh set of his jaw is, his eyes speak volumes; soft greens, unblinking.

The destination is his bed, whose springs creak in a lower octave when he lowers Oona down onto its mattress. It's been a long week in that jungle, he figures. She deserves an actual place to lie down, and he can make do with the couch, himself. He's never been picky. ]

[Typically, Oona doesn't like sleeping very much. Her nightmares aren't nearly as bad as they were the first month or two when she'd first arrived, and sometimes she goes the whole night without dreaming once (or at least not remembering it), but there's usually a lingering anxiety that makes it difficult to fall asleep once she makes a conscious decision to.

Having people nearby helped, she'd found, but she hardly had the luxury of snuggling up to people while she slept anymore (humans could be strangely touchy about this too), and yet...

Her dreams weren't bad, this time. She stirs briefly at being lifted, but the warmth against her body and his familiar smell lulls her back into a feeling of safety, that everything will be okay, and she drifts off again with a smile.

She dreams, but it's nice. There's no glass cages, no passive faces studying her and scribbling notes. No being poked or prodded or asked questions. She can't recall specifics, but there's a feeling that everything is alright.

She doesn't stir again for hours later, and only then because she needs to stumble to the bathroom, and is perfectly content with going and collapsing back on the bed when she realizes she has no idea where she is. Oona sits on the bed for a minute, still groggy, before it hits her in flashes of conversation and Adolf's face. Oh. Right.

Well this was a little embarrassing. And where was Adolf?

She moves as quietly as possible back out to the living room and-- ah. There's her lump of an eel. On the couch. Oona rolled her eyes upwards as if somehow the heavens would help her here, and gives an exasperated little sigh.]

Stupid. Could have slept in the bed too.

[but it's muttered affectionately as she moves to grab a fallen blanket and spread it carefully over him. She just watches him for a moment, smoothing her hand over his hair affectionately.] Silly...

[ Sometimes it's easy to forget that Adolf is only 27, that his adult status only extends so far in the grand scheme of things: he may be considered old in a sea of teenagers, but he's still a young man by most standards. It's that young man who's asleep on the couch, his collar lowered for ease of breathing and his exposed left jaw turned up to let his exhales whistle from slightly-parted teeth.

He stays asleep even when his body alerts him to the new presence in the room, a residual reminder of his inhumanity that lingers even without the use of drugs. His chest rises and falls in slow waves, unbroken by the feeling of fingers in his hair. If anything, the previous topic of conversation from all those hours ago bring up subconscious memories of warm smiles and brightly-painted nails wrapping scarves around his neck.

Something about the gesture that he barely acknowledges is painfully kind to him— a voice he can't decipher in sleep says something that he interprets as equally gentle, and he reaches for it with his hands, feels for it with limp fingers. ]

—5 minutes.

[ He says in German, followed by a barely-audible bitte. The assumption is that whatever he's holding onto right now is a hand, and he brings it to his lips so he can trace around the knuckles.

(It must be her right, he thinks. No ring.) ]

[Her breath catches in her throat, at first out of fear that she might have been caught, and then in surprise at the feel of warm lips on her hand.]

Ah... [He can't know it's her. He wouldn't be so candid like that, so openly affectionate when his usual response was a hair tucked behind her ear, or the pat of his hand on her head. Her heart feels like it might nearly explode out of her chest and she's not sure why it aches so.

Guilt, maybe, that he's tricked into thinking she's someone else? Or was it an ache for what wasn't, or what could be (could have been?) (couldn't be?)

She doesn't understand what he said, the unfamiliar language rough but pleasant to her ears. She doesn't want to pull away and alarm him into full wakefulness, sure that the embarrassment for his guard being down would be too cruel for him. No, she couldn't do that.

That's the justification she uses, anyhow (a lie, maybe, to herself) as she leans over him again, her free hand holding her hair back a little so it doesn't fall onto his face (she doesn't know if Rosa's hair is long or shirt or what might give it away). Her lips brush his cheek above the wounds and briefly she rests her head against his (if she closes her eyes, she can pretend, for just a second--)

Her hand tugs back gently, slipping from him as she goes to retreat back to the relative safety of his room.

'I'm in trouble' She thinks again, wishing her heart would stop thudding a tattoo against her chest. 'A lot of trouble.'

Oona tried hard not to lie, not even to herself, and she couldn't just pretend the feelings she felt stirring weren't there. They were, she could acknowledge that and accept it easily enough. The problem came from what she was supposed to actually do about it now.]

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[closed] Don't look down, even though they're looking down on you

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