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[vecna]

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[vecna]

[...Henry slips one arm free of her grasp if only to place his hand on her shoulder, steadying. He is not entirely certain she's not just going to tip over again.]

No.

[Perhaps it is not ideal, receiving consolation about powerful hatred or love from Henry Creel, who has plenty of the former but lacks so much of the latter. But he understands a thing or two about overwrought emotions; he keeps his own caged up, but very much alive, inside of him. He knows that there are subtle shades to them, too.]

And if you were close, she would have known that, too. That you didn't hate her.

[velluminous]

[ consolation is consolation, and she needs consolation. the alcohol flush on her face makes her fathomless eyes seem that much brighter, as she darts her look around anywhere but his face. like if she avoids eye contact, he won't be able to read her.

ha ha. ]

Don't you let her take you, Mister Creel.

[vecna]

[Not able to read her? Unlikely.]

I won't be going anywhere.

[There's something to be said about his conviction, even if he has no way of knowing for sure who might disappear overnight -- he could be next, but perhaps if he digs his feet deep into his anger, resentment, and direct straight towards the Warden, she will find easier targets to shuffle off to Solitary before him.]

I can promise you that.

[He has too much left to do.]

[velluminous]

[ they are alike in so many ways, what's one more? to possess conviction despite having absolutely nothing that might back it up.

still looking aside, she sets her jaw in something that is definitely not a pout. inhales sharply through her nose—definitely not a sniffle. ]

Right. Quite so.

[vecna]

[What's the alternative? To live in fear and trepidation? Nothing would rankle him more.

He takes a moment to look at her, assessing. The tightness of that jaw, that sound that must, in fact, be a sniffle. He dips his hand into his pocket again to pull out the newly-gifted handkerchief, offering it to her.]

Are you sure you don't want to use this first?

[velluminous]

[ we have established it was not a sniffle!!

shakes her head, clears her throat ]

No. No. I'm fine. I just need to... sober up.

[vecna]

[Slipping the handkerchief back into his pocket.]

We can grab you some coffee at the diner. I’ve gotten better at making it.

[velluminous]

[ how eerily domestic.

domesticated? ]

That... sounds appealing.

[vecna]

[Just a man who's come a long way from his first terrible cup of coffee at the diner. She'll remember it.]

Then come on. [If she releases his grip on her shoulder, is she good to walk? He seems to take a moment to assess that after he turns towards the diner.] You'll feel better after.

[velluminous]

[ she isn't sloshed. that's a good sign. just numb enough to take the edge off—she'd hoped, but instead, it's like she yanked a tangle of every complicated emotion up to her throat and left it there to choke on.

hugs herself and follows in silence ]

[vecna]

[To the diner they go. Henry chances a glance behind him occasionally, but the walk is relatively quiet until they step through the door.

The jukebox begins playing a mellow tune as he moves to fuss behind the counter.]

...Is the rest of your team alright? [Stirring up chatter now, practiced as he is with it.] After everything.

[velluminous]

[ it is so cheap, to fall back on sullen silence and make him fill the blanks. but she hardly knows what else to say, if she cannot follow the guide of his questions.

pours herself into a booth, puts her back to something. ]

As fine as they can be. Rex is traumatized from watching his father perish. Becca is too new to anything for it to truly hurt her. Ace is... organizing tea parties.

[vecna]

[Like before, his path isn’t any different — gathering up the empty mugs, the coffee pot, getting everything prepared to brew. But there is less of a hesitation in his step, less like he’s trying to recall a routine from years past, and more familiarity to each movement.]

A tea party?

[That sounds… Tiresome. He doesn’t say that much.]

Everyone copes differently. My teammates tend to take a more distant approach.

[velluminous]

[ in a way, she's proud. adaptation to a new normal. it's so human of him. ]

Hm? Your teammate came by Basilisk to thank us.

[vecna]

[It won’t take long until it’s percolating, and he can turn to look at her from his spot at the counter, brow raising.]

To thank you? Who?

[velluminous]

Alec Brennan. You do not have to sound so shocked.

[vecna]

[lol. WHAT

His lips twitch and his brows raise. Henry’s face gives away some amusement, but not much else.]

I’m… surprised because he’s the last person I would expect to go out of his way to say “thank you”.

[velluminous]

You haven't thanked me.

[vecna]

[Oh. Henry turns to glance at the coffee pot, still brewing.]

Well. You know I was… undecided on how to feel that day. About being saved.

[Undecided is a kind way of putting it.]

But I suppose I do owe you my gratitude, regardless. Intent counts for something.

[velluminous]

You know, I think he expressed himself better than you. Forget it. Moment has passed.

[vecna]

Come on, Sprezzatura. Hindsight is 20/20. I am glad that our connection didn’t waver; if someone’s had to remain steadfast, I’m happy it was yours.

[That is sincere, even if Henry does not seem bothered by her vague indignity. She should know him well enough by now; would he really have visited to say “thank you” on the heels of how mentally tilted he was?]

[velluminous]

[ you can watch in real time as the bite leaves her, and she regrets being snappish. the flush deepens ]

If we are so alike, why am I always like this to you...

[vecna]

[He hmms, a lilting noise. It sounds like consideration, but the answer is easy.]

Probably because we are so alike.

[Henry does not hesitate to cut and sting when he deigns it necessary; it's no surprise that she'd do the same.

Anyway. Two mugs fill with coffee, steaming hot. Henry comes over to her booth with them.]

[velluminous]

[ she can barely meet his eye when he first approaches, but then she tries to check to see if he's looking at her, and she locks gazes with him by accident, and you can't just play that kind of thing off. ]

...It smells better.

[vecna]

[Locked gazes, the one he gives her is still nearly quizzical as he places their mugs down and slides into his side of the booth.]

Let me know if it tastes better, too.