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.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[he's not waiting for anybody, he's just trying to get some errands done with the help of the doors and go home. yeah it's risky, but he's moving pretty quick and doing his best to exude a Fuck Directly Off kind of vibe. but of course she'd still be around. he smells her before he sees her, and it makes his eye twitch.]

[Well, she would be a bad Hunter if she let him get away, wouldn't she? For some reason his Fuck Off presence is extremely relieving. She doesn't relax, exactly, but the hidden stress clears.]

Oh, it's you.

[annnnnnnnd migraine.] Does your job not keep you busy enough? Go home.

They wouldn't tell me who you were. [she makes a face of mild disgust] But I can guess.

Charming. [his smile doesn't even try to be a smile.] Goodbye.

Tell him I don't want to see him. Okay? Tell him.

[well that stops him in his tracks.

he turns around, slowly.]

I beg your pardon?

I don't. Want. To see him. Is that hard to understand?

[you'd think he might ask any sort of question about the sudden topic of this conversation, but, no.]

I'm not telling him that.

[Her faces twitches as her eyes narrow. Clearly she was not expecting refusal.]

I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. Alright? Either you tell him, or someone else well.

Then it's going to be someone else. If they get past me.

Then you'll tell him.

I am not. Telling him. That.

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.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only