Rufus Catch-All

[misstrust]

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[misstrust]

[ That is... more talking than Rufus usually offers, and Dorothy blinks before her expression turns pensive.

All right, so there had been no frolicking in the flames of eternal damnation, but she'd already come to realize that her concept of demons and the underworld was very... well, wrong. Compared to Rufus and the life he knew, at least. ]

It seems like a place like that would be unforgiving to anyone who didn't have a survivor's spirit.

[soulus]

It is a place where the weak suffer.

[He says it in a matter-of-fact tone, because such is the fact of the wilderness.]

[misstrust]

I see... well, it really doesn't give off the feeling of home, does it?

[ More like a place that cultivates a survival of the fittest mindset. ]

[soulus]

Does it not?

[It's an empty question—after all, the wilderness is the only home he's known.]

[misstrust]

...

[ Dorothy hesitates, then shakes her head. ] Sorry. It doesn't seem that way to me, but if you grew up like that, then it must have been what was most familiar to you.

[soulus]

. . . It's just a place to go back to. I would rather be moving around.

[misstrust]

I imagine you'd get a lot of that in, for your work.

[soulus]

There's less work here, but still places in which to move.

What do you think? Will you be sleeping on this side three days from now?

[misstrust]

Are you talking about curfew? [ A blink. ]

I was just thinking if I had to lose consciousness somewhere, the pub might be a nice idea. Why, did you want to sleep with me?

[soulus]

The hero is my roommate this week.

[He may be banished to his assigned room instead.]

[misstrust]

Well, no better alibi than to stay there.

My roommate is a bit of a pervert, so I'd rather not risk it too much.

[soulus]

You'll be asleep in an hour . . .

[misstrust]

A lot can happen in an hour. [ You insensitive cad. ]

[soulus]

[Shima's nothing Dorothy can't handle.]

Then the pub is an option.

[misstrust]

[ I mean yes but it's the principle of the matter-- ]

Yes, it leads me back to my original plan. I do believe that's where I'll choose to stay.

[soulus]

If you do, you may be intoxicated this time.

[misstrust]

I'll drink responsibly. And if I end up intoxicated in the morning, perhaps we can count that as a clue.

[ A pause; she grins at him. ]

Would that make you feel capricious again?

[soulus]

[He makes a face.]

The ninth rule prohibits physical contact.

[misstrust]

[ She considers it briefly, teasing him-- oh is that the only thing keeping you from holding me?

But she desists and instead sighs. ]

Oh, right.

Then I suppose I'll just have to hope I'm uninteresting enough to be left alone.

[soulus]

You may just end up feeling hungry. That was one of the cafeteria's effects.

[misstrust]

I think, ideally, I'll just wake up feeling refreshed and not injured, affected by anything strange, or dead.

This seems to be a reasonable hope, I'd say.

[ As she moves closer to the railing to look out over the ocean. ]

[soulus]

[He doesn't follow just yet.]

. . . The effects are a side effect of sleeping outside of town.

[She'll probably wake up with something, no matter what.]

[misstrust]

Truly? Without fail? [ Her gaze is distant, though, as she continues staring forward. ]

... Well, that's troubling.

[soulus]

[Well, he doesn't know if she'll incur an effect without fail. Because of that, he declines to answer as he approaches her from behind.

He knows better than to stay so close to her, but they happen to come into range as he steps toward her and then off to the side. For ten long seconds their emotions reach out to one another; his are calm on the surface, which stops the anger and unease and frustration roiling beneath it from breaking through. Somewhere amid the chaos of negativity is also the faintest kernel of solicitude, shoved back to a nondescript spot in the void of his heart with suspicion and doubt writ all over it, as he settles in place with a cool mien.]

If it's too troublesome, you can sleep elsewhere in town.

[misstrust]

[ Dorothy leans a little more heavily against the railing as those emotions wash over her, unable to reply for just ("just") those ten seconds. His emotions feel like a brewing storm tucked away beneath thick clouds, one good gust away from exploding into a disaster. It's a bit of an onslaught, to say the least, but there's something small at the very bottom of it. Faint and fiercely guarded by even more negativity, but it's there and she wonders at it.

Her emotions are less exciting, but probably more layered than most would have imagined. The shallow level of curiosity and amicability, warm and safe, before an abrupt plunge into thoughtful consideration, hesitation, wariness and a muffled hint of hope. But there's also fondness there, much more present, as tinged as it is with that same wariness that seems to wrap its way around her emotions.

And insecurity. That's there, too, even fainter and sharing a space with a feeling like loneliness.

Ultimately, Dorothy doesn't comment on it. She knows he wouldn't want to talk about it anyway, and she's since learned it's better to let him broach a topic or just let it move along. ]

I'll test it this week, I think. [ She finally replies, and she knows it's belated. Still, she continues. ] If something happens, then maybe next time I'll remain in town.