/... Yeah. I get that. People don't love it when I tell them stuff from my world, either, but... I don't think you were trying to hide anything? I just — ugh, I guess you're my friend? So I wanted to be there for you or whatever./
/I appreciate that. You're definitely a friend to me, you know. There just wasn't a good time to bring it up, and I was having too much fun with you to spoil the mood./
/... That means a lot. I'm pretty sure your friend, Lune, is weirded out by telepathy, by the way. Can you tell her I don't bite without dinner and consent?
I'm planning to get you to have all the fun. Fuck the age thing. You're gonna live forever now, and you got me! I'm gonna make you sure have the greatest old woman youth./
/I'll tell her. Lune is just very "in her head" sometimes, but she'll understand in time.
And thank you! I am very used to living like I only have so much time left, but not so much like I have decades. It's been an adjustment, to say the least./
/I don't super love it, but I'm used to it. Before the fog, I told Gustave he should come visit the mansion, so maybe you two come, and she can see for herself.
Fine, just, mhm, according to one really tall French woman, I can't keep up with the French, so please don't let me fucking die, alright? Or do dumb shit, that'd be great either. You see my eyes glow, you flick me on the forehead. Counting on you.
I'm gonna let you go, I gotta do the food runs for the mansion and NYX, so I'll see ya at the weekend, yeah? Choose a place./
/Ah, to great real friendships. Please keep that determination in place this weekend as well.
Perfect. I'll see you!/
(As promised, once the day and time rolls in, Sophie arrives at the MAX in clacking high heeled boots and immaculate outfit — dolling up always helps her get her head in place. Stability and routine in a turbulent sea.
She'll get herself a spot at the lounge bar, sending Sciel a mental note she's there already.)
[It has been… an interesting week. Interesting enough that most of that is now a sort of conversational debt, something to get into another evening. For now, she’s just glad to have a night out.
And so Sciel is there, almost on time. She’s dressed up herself –– slacks and an open jacket, the shirt underneath made of such scanty lace that the tattoo on her chest is visible all the way down to her ribs. She greets Sophie with a hand on her back and a sidle in for a kiss on the cheek before she takes her own barstool.]
(Interesting is a way to put it, way too positive in contrast to what Sophie thinks of this week — all extremely negative adjectives, to say the least. What is interesting is that Sciel told her point-blank that this is so they talk, but Sophie happens not to know to whose benefit.
Is this Sciel trying to check on her, or is does she need an ear? The former is... Less than ideal, although as promised, she'll put effort if she really wants to know. She assumes the point is the woman who looks absolutely stunning to the point Sophie gives her a nod of approval before kissing her back, a hug accompanying it before she smiles.)
Better to see you. Cripes, you look hot! Very nice choice, babe.
[Sciel smiles down Sophie’s back as she’s pulled into that hug, and it’s still there when she pulls backs.]
Thank you. You look so lovely, too.
[Her team is used to seeing her in various avant-garde nonsense, but she’d still left the apartment with the jacket firmly closed –– no need to give off the wrong impression about her evening plans, and all. She slides onto her barstool.]
How has your week been? Head feeling more sorted out?
(Aside from the fog, where she looked like she went through 2 divorces, 5 funerals, got fired 2 times and lost the house in the span of 24 hours, but nevermind that.)
Head as in emotions or head as in telepathy? Emotions, whatever, telepathy, way less glitchy. How about you?
Either, both? [There’s a little concern in her expression, though it doesn’t replace the smile.] I suppose ‘whatever’ is an improvement over ‘bad’, but it sounds like you need more time to rest.
[As for her…]
I’m unhappy and happy at the same time. But I’ll be fine, it’s just going to take time.
It’s not about fixing it. It’s about coming to terms with whatever’s hurting you.
[This conversation very well could stay around Sophie, but all story-swapping is a give and take.]
Some revelations, sure. The last two weeks were awful, but I’m always glad when I can take care of my friends, and the fog showed me some things that gave me… perspective. Even if I didn’t always want to see it.
(It means she has to look at it, and she doesn't want to look at it again.)
You were the only one I couldn't find, you know. I was... Well, kind of worried, but kind of not. If anyone was gonna do well in that bullshit, it'd be you. Do you even know what your brain feels like?
To be fair? Probably. We are kind of boxed in by our own brains, anyway. Kind of like when we look in the mirror, we don't see everything as is? Anyway.
(She might not be interested in the chitty chatter and view of a person who crawls from brain to brain. Perhaps another time.
Instead of dwelving, she's going to order them a bottle of wine, a sweet one at that.)
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Thought she was asking you individually, my bad, girlie. I'm gonna ask Scott to do it, I really am not in the mood.
Hey, can I ask you a thing? Why didn't you... Tell me, you know? About the gommage, the Expedition, all that?/
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[A pause. Not guilty, really, just... surprised.]
/It's not something I set out to hide. It's just something that happens to us, and it makes people uncomfortable or sad to think about./
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I'm planning to get you to have all the fun. Fuck the age thing. You're gonna live forever now, and you got me! I'm gonna make you sure have the greatest old woman youth./
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And thank you! I am very used to living like I only have so much time left, but not so much like I have decades. It's been an adjustment, to say the least./
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Anything you wanna do that I can aid with?/
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I don’t know just yet, but thank you. Ask me again when we get drinks. I’ll think about it./
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Fine, just, mhm, according to one really tall French woman, I can't keep up with the French, so please don't let me fucking die, alright? Or do dumb shit, that'd be great either. You see my eyes glow, you flick me on the forehead. Counting on you.
I'm gonna let you go, I gotta do the food runs for the mansion and NYX, so I'll see ya at the weekend, yeah? Choose a place./
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And yes. The MAX is usually quiet? But then again, most places here are./
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Perfect. I'll see you!/
(As promised, once the day and time rolls in, Sophie arrives at the MAX in clacking high heeled boots and immaculate outfit — dolling up always helps her get her head in place. Stability and routine in a turbulent sea.
She'll get herself a spot at the lounge bar, sending Sciel a mental note she's there already.)
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And so Sciel is there, almost on time. She’s dressed up herself –– slacks and an open jacket, the shirt underneath made of such scanty lace that the tattoo on her chest is visible all the way down to her ribs. She greets Sophie with a hand on her back and a sidle in for a kiss on the cheek before she takes her own barstool.]
So good to see you.
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Is this Sciel trying to check on her, or is does she need an ear? The former is... Less than ideal, although as promised, she'll put effort if she really wants to know. She assumes the point is the woman who looks absolutely stunning to the point Sophie gives her a nod of approval before kissing her back, a hug accompanying it before she smiles.)
Better to see you. Cripes, you look hot! Very nice choice, babe.
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Thank you. You look so lovely, too.
[Her team is used to seeing her in various avant-garde nonsense, but she’d still left the apartment with the jacket firmly closed –– no need to give off the wrong impression about her evening plans, and all. She slides onto her barstool.]
How has your week been? Head feeling more sorted out?
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(Aside from the fog, where she looked like she went through 2 divorces, 5 funerals, got fired 2 times and lost the house in the span of 24 hours, but nevermind that.)
Head as in emotions or head as in telepathy? Emotions, whatever, telepathy, way less glitchy. How about you?
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[As for her…]
I’m unhappy and happy at the same time. But I’ll be fine, it’s just going to take time.
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(Old things that ressurfaced, the date, the deaths, years ago that just came knocking on her door again. Unfair, unfun.)
Happy? Seriously? What's there to be happy about? Did you have a big revelation or something?
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[This conversation very well could stay around Sophie, but all story-swapping is a give and take.]
Some revelations, sure. The last two weeks were awful, but I’m always glad when I can take care of my friends, and the fog showed me some things that gave me… perspective. Even if I didn’t always want to see it.
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(It means she has to look at it, and she doesn't want to look at it again.)
You were the only one I couldn't find, you know. I was... Well, kind of worried, but kind of not. If anyone was gonna do well in that bullshit, it'd be you. Do you even know what your brain feels like?
(Like a calm ocean, steady tides.)
Perspective, huh? About?
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[She leans her elbow on the bar, looking at Sophie long and calm.]
I think I’ve been a bad friend lately.
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(She might not be interested in the chitty chatter and view of a person who crawls from brain to brain. Perhaps another time.
Instead of dwelving, she's going to order them a bottle of wine, a sweet one at that.)
To? The 33's?
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Is this about his whole death thing? Maelle told me, but she didn't super tell me with all the details.
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Partially. How much did she tell you?
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