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[Molly doesn't really have to look far for Caleb. He's walking away from trial sort of in like a fugue state. His thoughts right now aren't quite normal; they're a little rambling and incoherent, kind of a distant buzz where occasionally you can hear a snippet of angry muttering or a flash of some image of a hospital, but that's it. He's on his phone texting furiously.]
I'm getting that fucking cat.
I'm getting that fucking cat.
[Molly isn't ... too much better. A lot different. Quieter. It's just a seething line of rage, mostly, something that he hardly ever has. He's angry sometimes, sure, but that thin and quiet rage is. Well. Probably more Lucien than anything. It isn't Beau's scribbles or the buzz and muttering. It's the sound of blood pounding in ears.
He goes to lean against a wall somewhere nearby.]
Yeah?
He goes to lean against a wall somewhere nearby.]
Yeah?
[There's at least a break in the extremely bad simmering rage thought stream when that happens. He holds onto the voucher for a second before he pulls away too far, catching his hand with his own. And then lets him go.]
S'alright. I don't care about them. Rather they went towards something good anyway.
S'alright. I don't care about them. Rather they went towards something good anyway.
[Also partially healed and still covered in blood, so, that's fun. Mostly just from the back of his head though, so maybe he hasn't noticed it? Matchsies. He looks worried though, mostly because he didn't get a good look at him before they all got back.]
One way to put it. You alright? What the fuck was even behind that door?
One way to put it. You alright? What the fuck was even behind that door?
[He'd just been accepting the hospital-morgue-werewolf part of this when Veth and Yasha get brought up and he looks up and blinks - face going through a bit of an Emotion - before he shoves it back down. Going instead to take Caleb by the shoulders and gently try and spin him so he can look at his back? Is it still terrible?]
Same reason any familiar face here shows up, I suppose. Fuck with your head.
Same reason any familiar face here shows up, I suppose. Fuck with your head.
[He doesn't mind being looked at condescendingly about things like this. He knows he's dying on a hill that's a little silly.]
Probably, probably. Still. [Just might have been nice. To give the more gentle-hearted what they actually wanted, for once.] Suppose to me it's just kicking a dog while it's down.
[It's alright though.]
... One last night in the Winter Dorm?
Probably, probably. Still. [Just might have been nice. To give the more gentle-hearted what they actually wanted, for once.] Suppose to me it's just kicking a dog while it's down.
[It's alright though.]
... One last night in the Winter Dorm?
It isn't a dog. But it is like capturing your foe and then asking him to playact out your revenge fantasies for you. A little macabre, especially if he is into it.
[That thought seems to puncture something in his tired but calm attitude, though; he seems a little more sad.]
One last night.
[That thought seems to puncture something in his tired but calm attitude, though; he seems a little more sad.]
One last night.
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