[He digs his fingers - his claws in tightly to him, to the back of his shirt and into his hair, holding him there. There's a bit of the same sort of relief, ugly as it is.]
[He's ... doing his best not to think about it. But just puts his face down against Caleb's shoulder, trying to be fairly careful about getting him in the throat with a horn. After everything that'd be pretty terrible.]
I don't know how to make it any better for Beauregard.
[His throat is cut and he bleeds out and dies. No, he just wraps his arms around his waist.]
Sometimes there is nothing to do but grieve. [He sighs.] But you and I need to help solve it for her. [Except too bad Molly will be a selfish asshole and not help at trial at all :/ ] She. . . when it was you, that was. . . the one thing I knew I could not live with, the idea that it could have been anyone here.
[He still has some of that drunk effect, which probably isn't helping matters.]
I've ... got a handle on it. All the shit in my head. I know Beau has been piled on by everyone, Ichiro is circling the drain, Kon can't remember fuck or shit, I'm sure my bullshit isn't-- [Helping.]
So I'm sorry for that. I was getting too dug into my own bullcrap. I don't know how much help I can be with the ... [Waves at his head? The forgetting stuff.] but I want to get us home. Intact.
[Oh, Mollymauk. He pulls back a little, giving him a sympathetic frown, arms still around him.]
There is not a waiting list to be affected by things here, to deserve a listening ear. [. . .] And if there were one, you would be at the top of mine. [With Beau, of course, but.]
[Reaching up to put a hand over Caleb's cheek, running his thumb over it.]
I know that, I do. Just figure it's my turn to chase you lot down for a while. Right now I'm alive, I'm alright. Everything else, there's time for that later.
... I doubt it's much comfort, when we don't know what will happen, but the daycare isn't so terrible. They're - they know things, over there. That will help. More clear-headed than we are over here.
I have spent enough time mired in my own miseries, Mollymauk. You don't owe me putting your feelings aside. If anything, I am. . . well equipped, to keep moving.
[He's gotten fairly good at pushing through his own pain over the years Leaning into his touch, though.]
That's good, though. I am more worried about. . . well, I worry if I say so, you will struggle to correct me. So, uhm, please do not try to reassure me or answer me. Just - I am worried there is only one left, and quite a few of us know who she is, and I don't know what will happen if she is voted for.
[ Well he isn’t supposed to try and reassure him or answer. So he leans over to kiss him on the forehead and stays there, leaning against him. He doesn’t say anything, just … trying to be there. ]
[ They didn’t exactly reestablish this either, but he’s pretty relieved that it’s happening. Kissing him back, as gently as possible - trying to prove that there’s no actual part of him that wants to hurt. ]
[He knows, he knows. There is a part of him, an unavoidable part, that can't avoid the memory of hands around his neck, the claws, the sneer in his voice as he stabbed him. There's an ugly bruise around his neck; he's had it covered with a scarf and his coat, but it may peek out from time to time.
But he doesn't want to let this place take something very nice away from him. He's stubbornly pushing the memories aside. It's a little easier to do with this than it was to push aside his own fears and self-loathing, anyway.]
[ He used to be better about being able to quiet any possible regrets, about being able to shut down memories or thoughts about things he didn't want to think about or deal with. But that ugly bruise, the marks across his own face - light as they are now - are a few of the things emblematic of the exact problem he's been twisting over. Once you wake up from the dream, waking life is so much more complicated.
At least he'd already agree with Caleb on one thing, that he likes him more than he probably should. This is a consequence of that. It's a messy, terrible idea. He wants it anyway.]
[He pulls away from the kiss, not exactly in a mood to makeout so much as just wanting a little closeness. Runs his hand across the marks on his cheek. Those may be a reminder, but to him, they're a reminder of Mollymauk, not of Lucien. How hard Molly has always fought for them, against all of the odds.]
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[He digs his fingers - his claws in tightly to him, to the back of his shirt and into his hair, holding him there. There's a bit of the same sort of relief, ugly as it is.]
Fix it. Don't ask me how yet.
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[He's not sure he has that kind of faith, but. . . ]
If someone did this out of hatred for her, we're killing them. I'm not sure it's that, though.
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[ He. Gets that expression where he's confused again. A little empty. ]
I don't know.
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[Just vaguely fussing, just a little.]
. . . Luxanna has to be one of the last ones. If not the only one. We need to protect her.
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I don't know how to make it any better for Beauregard.
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[His throat is cut and he bleeds out and dies. No, he just wraps his arms around his waist.]
Sometimes there is nothing to do but grieve. [He sighs.] But you and I need to help solve it for her. [Except too bad Molly will be a selfish asshole and not help at trial at all :/ ] She. . . when it was you, that was. . . the one thing I knew I could not live with, the idea that it could have been anyone here.
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[Molly is the WORST. I can't believe he would do this. Just NOT HELP.]
. . . I'm sorry.
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[What are you apologizing for. His head is full of Otome and Leo problems, and redacted problems.]
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I've ... got a handle on it. All the shit in my head. I know Beau has been piled on by everyone, Ichiro is circling the drain, Kon can't remember fuck or shit, I'm sure my bullshit isn't-- [Helping.]
So I'm sorry for that. I was getting too dug into my own bullcrap. I don't know how much help I can be with the ... [Waves at his head? The forgetting stuff.] but I want to get us home. Intact.
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There is not a waiting list to be affected by things here, to deserve a listening ear. [. . .] And if there were one, you would be at the top of mine. [With Beau, of course, but.]
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I know that, I do. Just figure it's my turn to chase you lot down for a while. Right now I'm alive, I'm alright. Everything else, there's time for that later.
... I doubt it's much comfort, when we don't know what will happen, but the daycare isn't so terrible. They're - they know things, over there. That will help. More clear-headed than we are over here.
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[He's gotten fairly good at pushing through his own pain over the years Leaning into his touch, though.]
That's good, though. I am more worried about. . . well, I worry if I say so, you will struggle to correct me. So, uhm, please do not try to reassure me or answer me. Just - I am worried there is only one left, and quite a few of us know who she is, and I don't know what will happen if she is voted for.
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. . . Did that work? If you aren't trying to answer me, do you have trouble?
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[ That’s pretty much an answer. Still. He’s a little worried about exploding a lesbian heart. ]
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But he doesn't want to let this place take something very nice away from him. He's stubbornly pushing the memories aside. It's a little easier to do with this than it was to push aside his own fears and self-loathing, anyway.]
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At least he'd already agree with Caleb on one thing, that he likes him more than he probably should. This is a consequence of that. It's a messy, terrible idea. He wants it anyway.]
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