[Only when she finishes speaking does he pocket the doll, finally banishing it from view. But its image is seared into his mind as he cranes his neck to watch Dorothy.
But they're also not solely hers to tell, and for a minute, she curls one hand over her chest and looks quite plainly uneasy.
But then, quietly and almost matter-of-factly-- ]
My father was a talented engineer who lost his hand in an accident when I was still young. He turned to drinking to cope with it-- heavily. But his other preferred method wasn't to try and improve his circumstances or make the most of it. Instead, he blamed everyone around him. He got into fights.
My mother left us before too long, sick of his behavior, and that only made things worse. He'd beat me near to death almost daily, mistaking me for her or thinking I was laughing at him and calling him useless behind his back. Then when the alcohol would wear off, he'd cry and beg for my forgiveness, swearing he would never do it again.
Rufus is quiet as he listens, never once taking his eyes off of Dorothy throughout her recollection of a harsh time. His expression doesn't waver, though his gaze darkens briefly at one point. When she finishes, there's a moment of silence before he answers in a business-like tone:]
[ That's about the most Rufus-like thing he could have said, and she's nearly grateful for it. Maybe it helps, to think he doesn't care. It's just one business associate speaking to another, accomplishing a rule.
He's not going to make her dwell on it. ]
You're welcome.
[ Her voice is steady, her expression carefully composed. But her fingers tremble, just once. ]
[His gaze flits to her fingers, then back to her face. He's not going to make her dwell on it—having to share is grating enough as it is—which means it's time to fulfill his end of the bargain.]
Years ago, a greedy lizard belonging to the Iron Dragons fled the Underworld to the material world. Naturally, the bounty on his head was high for upsetting the balance of power. I pursued it and paid for my hubris with my left arm.
[The blue lines that mark his left arm now glow dimly in the greenhouse.]
I didn't see him for a while after that. When our paths crossed once more in the material world, I gave him my arm again to break his ambition for a second time.
Then I went to the technician and ordered a new arm.
[ Dorothy also stays quiet as she studies him, gaze lowering only briefly to his left arm. She's noticed the lines before, but it hadn't struck her that it's not technically his own.
[He pauses. It takes a moment for him to gather whom Dorothy is referencing.]
That way of thinking is too wistful. Your father was incapable of learning.
[Recognizing the problem, yet continuing to give in and beat his daughter with nothing to blame but his own insecurity—there was no will to be found there.]
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It's a fairly long while before he speaks.]
Have you shared a memory?
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Not yet.
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[ With a low groan, because she knows. It's better not to risk it by being stubborn. ]
It just... hadn't come up yet.
[ Which is no excuse. Actually, it's probably a little bad, she thinks, that Rufus had to be the one to ask. ]
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You don't need to share with anyone else—just me. Of course, I will exchange yours with a memory of my own. We have an agreement, after all.
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[ Unsurprising, but she smiles slightly anyway. It's easier, when she thinks of it like that. ]
But fine. It just has to be meaningful, right?
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Yes.
What will it be?
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But they're also not solely hers to tell, and for a minute, she curls one hand over her chest and looks quite plainly uneasy.
But then, quietly and almost matter-of-factly-- ]
My father was a talented engineer who lost his hand in an accident when I was still young. He turned to drinking to cope with it-- heavily. But his other preferred method wasn't to try and improve his circumstances or make the most of it. Instead, he blamed everyone around him. He got into fights.
My mother left us before too long, sick of his behavior, and that only made things worse. He'd beat me near to death almost daily, mistaking me for her or thinking I was laughing at him and calling him useless behind his back. Then when the alcohol would wear off, he'd cry and beg for my forgiveness, swearing he would never do it again.
[ Well. He'd asked. ]
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Rufus is quiet as he listens, never once taking his eyes off of Dorothy throughout her recollection of a harsh time. His expression doesn't waver, though his gaze darkens briefly at one point. When she finishes, there's a moment of silence before he answers in a business-like tone:]
Thank you for sharing.
[What a pathetic man.]
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He's not going to make her dwell on it. ]
You're welcome.
[ Her voice is steady, her expression carefully composed. But her fingers tremble, just once. ]
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Years ago, a greedy lizard belonging to the Iron Dragons fled the Underworld to the material world. Naturally, the bounty on his head was high for upsetting the balance of power. I pursued it and paid for my hubris with my left arm.
[The blue lines that mark his left arm now glow dimly in the greenhouse.]
I didn't see him for a while after that. When our paths crossed once more in the material world, I gave him my arm again to break his ambition for a second time.
Then I went to the technician and ordered a new arm.
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And he'd lost it twice? ]
You're really something else, you know that?
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[At this point it may be personal.]
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Yes, I imagine that will teach him.
Still...
[ She huffs, just a little. ]
I almost wish he could have learned from you, in that regard.
[ Rufus lost his whole-ass arm. Compared to that, her father had done absolutely nothing to improve his circumstances.
Pathetic, indeed, even as the thought makes her frown. ]
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That way of thinking is too wistful. Your father was incapable of learning.
[Recognizing the problem, yet continuing to give in and beat his daughter with nothing to blame but his own insecurity—there was no will to be found there.]
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[ No matter how much she remembers happier times. No matter how much she still unconsciously hums their song. ]
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. . . Yes. No matter how much you may want it, you can't change nor relive the past.
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... Are you telling that to me, or reminding both of us?
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It doesn't last. His eyes shift aside.]
What an absurd question.
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[ Well, he's under no obligation to answer her, though. She knows that. ]
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[ And it was deep and motivational and murderous. ]
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I'll kill him . . . No matter how many memories I lose . . .
[He won't forget this anger. He will never forget.]
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