thedressingroom | (no subject)

(no subject)

[There's not much to tell about the girl leaning against a wall as if waiting for someone, a thick criminology textbook craddled in her arms. She's prepared this time, sweeping the room with a quick glance every once and awhile. It's staged just so to give the impression of patience, but she's clearly on edge. Whatever she's waiting for, she doesn't seem to be looking forward to it.]

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Fine. [It's clearly not fine, she's just too irritated to continue arguing about it. Instead, she searches around in her bag, finally pulling out an old thick envelope that had obviously seen some wear.]

Then give him this. You don't have to talk.

[Arashi only stares at the envelope, making no move to take it.]

What's in it?

It's from my gran -

[She stops herself, composure slipping. She risks taking her eyes off him to shut them, tight, before reassembling the mask on her face. It's not a good mask. She's obviously new at it.]

It's from his father. It's for him.

[his eyes narrow at her, but after a minute or so, he reaches out and accepts the letter. he doesn't look pleased about it, but when does he ever look pleased about anything.]

[As far as she's concerned that is his permanent face. She's almost reluctant to let it go, sighing as it slips from her fingers.]

Thank you.

[.....oh, damn Harvestman for making him even remotely a nicer person.]

Listen. [he does his best to soften the scowl into vague disapproval.] Since you're making me your little messenger boy, I get to make your opinion my business, and I think you should reconsider. At the very least, don't go making any judgment calls while you're angry.

I'm not angry. [This is clearly a lie, and she has trouble with even saying it.]

[he sighs and rolls his head back for a second.]

You sure? Because you'd be justified. I'm not saying you shouldn't be angry. And I'm not saying you should talk to him right now, either. Just give it some time, all right? Whatever you think about him, don't just write him off.

Don't write him off? You dead have an strange way of viewing time, don't you?

"You dead"? That's diplomatic. Look, I said what I wanted. You have a pleasant evening.

I'm not a diplomat. [You could almost hear the f-word in that. She resembles her father in more ways than one.] Whether or not you pass on the message, I don't want to see or speak to him. Period. He'll figure that out.

I heard you the first time. But I'm on his side, not yours.

[and he's not sticking around to hear any more things like this, because it makes him irritable.]

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