[It's definitely startling to find him in the library! And he's a bit awkward. Feels like some sort of wall came down, but now that it is starting a conversation is ... different. He just assumes the mood is because of everything that went down today, which was, uh! A lot.]
Mm. I think she was. . . happy to have a chance to do something good.
[He nods a little.]
. . . She deserves to still be here. Certainly that young girl didn't deserve to die. But it isn't a weight on her conscience that such a thing happened.
[Just making a face at him like they both know this argument isn't the same. Because it isn't.]
You said nothing a cleric can't fix. Beauregard told me earlier that it's been a long time. [He's in denial, not entirely stupid. He listens to these little twists in the tale.] It's not as if I should be here in the first fucking place. Whatever this is, it's a reprieve. If it can help you and Beauregard, you both know that's going to be the right choice.
[Ugh ugh ugh. He can tell this is clearly upsetting him, it's upsetting himself, but he also doesn't want to just agree to the premise that it's useless to try. He's also never had Caleb disagree with him specifically about ... anything?
Sitting there, elbow on the table and hand over his mouth for a moment, nails tapping on the tabletop. Just looking at him, frustrated.]
Look, it isn't-- nobility. It's getting the two of you out of this fucking place. I just need to be able to live with it. [Or, well. He makes a face.] Or not live with it. You get the point.
Your death won't buy anything except your peace of mind. You can get out of feeling the weight some burden you think you can't survive - fine. But don't talk to me about what you can live with.
[He can't help taking this, saying its better to die than to carry that kind of guilt around, a little personally.]
[Well, he'd already died for these people once. It'd be a waste to watch them die in front of him, after all of that effort. They've already seen it once, it wouldn't be as hard. But he keeps that to himself. If backs are against the wall ...
He's got no idea why this reaction is so strong, though. Pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes for a second, until his vision goes white, and then holding them up for a moment before crossing his arms. Leaning back.]
[Getting kicked out of the library, apparently, because Caleb is yell whispering at him. Caleb is grabbing his belongings and shoving them in his coat.]
[Making things worse by arguing with the Librarian - it was just a discussion, they're allowed to talk, why not just let them stay - but he's only getting more shooshing and hurried out of the library back, grabbing his own coat and following Caleb. Picking up books for him, if he lets him.]
[He can! They aren't checked out so you're just stealing them! But he just kind of goes outside to go walking. He's not really in the mood for this anyway; he was just planning to end a difficult day by obsessing over some aspect of his research that he can't succeed on in this state anyway.]
[Just stealing them then. Just stealin' them. Following him? Look, it just seemed like another bad place to end a conversation, what with the yell-whispering and the getting kicked out of the library, which was a thing Caleb had specifically told Molly not to do to him. So he feels a little bad for that. If not the stubbornly sticking to his ground on the whole self-sacrifice thing.
If he tells him to go away or tries to ditch him he'll fuck off, but otherwise he'll just follow quietly for a while.]
Molly just sits down not too far away, twiddling his thumbs, flipping over the books he just accidentally stole in his hands before he sets them to the side. Quiet still, until he finally just decides to break the awkwardness again.]
... It was the wrong time to bring it up.
[Making a face. This is a very bad 'apology', but he's ... trying?]
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Manwol is in your dorm, right? You seen her?
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. . . Uhm. She will take it hard, I think. She was in fine spirits last night, so they change is. . .
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[She was perfectly happy, which you know, was comforting in its own way.]
Rough day. Rough few days. [A huff of dry laughter.] Rough week.
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[He nods a little.]
. . . She deserves to still be here. Certainly that young girl didn't deserve to die. But it isn't a weight on her conscience that such a thing happened.
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Not any fault of hers it happened.
[... He grimaces a bit at the doing good part though.]
If it happens again, where we don't know who to vote for, should vote for me.
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[Just sort of hissing it out at him, gripping his forearm.]
I'm tired of this.
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It isn't as if it's Plan A, Caleb.
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You said nothing a cleric can't fix. Beauregard told me earlier that it's been a long time. [He's in denial, not entirely stupid. He listens to these little twists in the tale.] It's not as if I should be here in the first fucking place. Whatever this is, it's a reprieve. If it can help you and Beauregard, you both know that's going to be the right choice.
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What does that even mean?
[Sorry, there's a lot of information in that sentence.]
Doesn't that just mean that if I die here and you get out, you're in the exact same position as before? Or, fuck, even better, you'll get your wish.
[Right?]
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[He's drawing back into himself a little, scratching at his left forearm.]
They are going to make killers out of all of us, children and all, whether we try to be noble here or not.
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Sitting there, elbow on the table and hand over his mouth for a moment, nails tapping on the tabletop. Just looking at him, frustrated.]
Look, it isn't-- nobility. It's getting the two of you out of this fucking place. I just need to be able to live with it. [Or, well. He makes a face.] Or not live with it. You get the point.
[...]
Fine.
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[He can't help taking this, saying its better to die than to carry that kind of guilt around, a little personally.]
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He's got no idea why this reaction is so strong, though. Pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes for a second, until his vision goes white, and then holding them up for a moment before crossing his arms. Leaning back.]
What are we doing here?
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If he tells him to go away or tries to ditch him he'll fuck off, but otherwise he'll just follow quietly for a while.]
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After a minute of walking, he finds a grassy spot somewhere and just sits down.]
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Molly just sits down not too far away, twiddling his thumbs, flipping over the books he just accidentally stole in his hands before he sets them to the side. Quiet still, until he finally just decides to break the awkwardness again.]
... It was the wrong time to bring it up.
[Making a face. This is a very bad 'apology', but he's ... trying?]
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I wouldn't have liked it better if you'd done it on a less ugly day.
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[Shifting, awkward, which is kind of usual for him. Or maybe not so much lately.]
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[He legitimately doesn't know what Molly is trying to apologize for, so. Just giving his cat scritches, watching him evenly.]
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[Not at all elucidating hand gesture. Disgruntled sound. Tail thwap on the ground.]
Dead, thing.
Just didn't know what to do anymore. We couldn't talk about anything without it being there.
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