[ One of these observations is easier to answer than the other. ]
We never spent much time together before this.
[ An airship of the Grandcypher's size needs a matching large crew to man it, and even if they hadn't already gravitated towards their own social circles long before joining up, none of them are exactly models for indolence and respite. Siegfried had Feendrache to worry about, he had a neverending list of Society assignments to complete, and Lucio.... His steps slow a smidge again, a stray thought drifting across his mind. ]
I also don't know if Lucio can get drunk.
[ Because Lucio is....something. Certainly not human, though what exactly he is Eustace has no idea.
Now that they've settled into an even pace again, he becomes (even more) aware of the brush of their arms against each other and the proximity of her body to his. It had been booze-fueled impulse that led him to grab hold of her hands in the first place, but it's something else entirely that keeps their hands linked together. By now, the worst of his earlier giddiness has faded, leaving behind a familiar sense of contemplation. His fingers tighten around hers, the touchpoint a comfort as he grapples with the myriad thoughts swirling around his head. What is he so worked up about? Too many things. ]
It's been six months. [ Half a year. ] Even I need a break.
[ From the island's insane machinations is the implied but unsaid continuation. ]
[ She falls silent at his simple admission, which would be common sense from anyone else but which feels unexpectedly vulnerable from him. Has it only been six months? It feels like it's been a lifetime since she's experienced the lively bustle of a city or sat down to eat something new without wondering how it might hijack her mind or body. It's been long enough that even the basement lab has ceased to sate her; endless research yielding few answers has been a poor substitute for the adventurous, result-driven science she's actually passionate about.
So she can relate to the need for a temporary escape. Perhaps especially in his case. She would've been satisfied (in a manner) still living in a beat-up apartment and doing the bare minumum to get by if it meant sticking it to the Augur. Eustace has worked harder to play by the island's twisted rules, prepared more, made more of an effort to survive. It's a wonder that he's never complained at her, or tried to kick her out, or asked for anything in return.
With a slow turning of her heart, she's reminded of her sister. Lana and Eustace are very different people, but Ema can recognize when holding someone out at arm's length isn't the same as a lack of caring — when someone has had to be strong for so long that the walls they put up become difficult to scale on both sides. With Lana, it was the death of her ethics that changed her; with Eustace, Ema can only assume it was the death of his entire youth.
There's not much she can do about it, plainly. By now, it must just be how Eustace is. But without realizing it, somewhere along the way, she's hugged his hand against her stomach and closed her other hand over it, giving it a gentle squeeze. It's an unthinking gesture, her eyes elsewhere, her hands living out a habit of restlessness. ]
You're allowed to take more breaks. You don't always have to be so... alone.
Edited (don't look at me it's nothing) 2021-03-04 05:11 (UTC)
[ It's one thing to unconsciously accept the solitary lifestyle he's carved out for himself over the course of half a lifetime, and another thing entirely to hear it stated aloud in such simple terms. Despite all appearances to the contrary he doesn't actually enjoy being alone, and he can't imagine a single person who would. But it's easier said than done to change half a lifetime's worth of ingrained habits, and harder still to reconfigure himself after being dumped in a place where everything, from food to flora to the very buildings he occupies, is safest when viewed through a lens of deep suspicion. Is it lonely? Yes, but easier to shoulder the burden of being alone than the heavy weight of loss a second time.
In any case, he hadn't said it to garner sympathy or to elicit pity. It'd been a statement of truth, a momentary frustration given voice, but he's surprised nonetheless by her reaction, slight though it is. The kindness of her hands wrapped around his speaks volumes, the physical warmth of being held outmatched only by the warmth that settles lightly in his chest. It quells the worst of his restless thoughts, even as it draws forth other more conflicting emotions. Namely, that he shouldn't find as much comfort in a single squeeze of his hand as he does. Or in Ema, for that matter.
But alcohol and clarity of judgment do not a good combination make, and in the end he can only reply back stupidly with a question of his own, brows knit together as he stares down at her. ]
Are you offering? To keep me company.
[ They might be housemates and friends on the side, but he would never assume any more of her time and attention than what's already been given. ]
[ Sigh. Of course subtext would be lost on him, he's completely drunk. She looks up at him with a knitted brow of her own, but for different reasons. ]
Yes, dummy. We don't have the most in common, and I know you like your peace and quiet, but we like each other well enough, don't we?
[ They already admitted as much over their ramen not-date... and they are officially #friends. Though what she's offering is perhaps a little more than that. Companionship, maybe... which is a little crazy in itself. What does she know of what he goes through? They're from completely different worlds, both literally and figuratively. She can only relate to him so much, no matter how much he tries to explain.
Despite her own confident offer, a niggle of self-doubt takes over. She lets their hands swing back down between them and she turns her eyes back to the street in front of them, the knot in her brow loosening. ]
I know my company isn't always the best, but it's there if you want it. If you need an extra hand or ear, or someone to just... be with, I'll always have time for you.
[ The answer is so very Ema that he can't help but smile, another knot of worry easing in his chest. On the surface, it's an offer that doesn't mean much; simple companionship isn't going to guarantee them an untampered-with supply of foodstuffs, nor will it save them from the capricious whims of their robotic overlord—and any uncomfortable fallout that might happen as a result. But deep down, knowing that she's willing to stick around regardless of his less-than-pleasant disposition means more than he can fully say. Even if he rarely shows it, her friendship - and friendship in general - has always been something he's valued greatly.
He slows and stops again, tugging on Ema's hand to catch her attention. It's all the warning she gets before he's closing the distance, one hand tugging her forward as the other reaches out for - surprise surprise! - a brief hug.
The arm wrapping around her shoulders is wholly intentional this time, motivated by purpose (and no small amount of alcohol) rather than spontaneous reflex. There's nothing erotic about the gesture; if anything it's entirely chaste, his fingers resting lightly in the space between her shoulder blades. His nose presses down gently atop her head, careful to avoid the jut of her glasses, and he lets his eyelids fall closed for the space of a few heartbeats as he lets himself be selfish for once in his life. ]
It's enough. Thanks.
[ Marie and Albert do not bark this time, too busy sniffing a lone fire hydrant some ten feet away. ]
[ She stops yet again when he does, turning to face him when she feels him tugging on her hand. Before she knows it, his chest is in her face again and he's hugging her to him with one arm, blanketing her in warmth and the dark smell of booze, dogs and assorted gunstuff.
By now, she's committed to indulging him. She'd slam the brakes on anything he might seriously regret, but she sees no harm in allowing him to be a little sleepy and goofy for an evening. It's cute. She wouldn't have guessed that he'd be such an affectionate drunk.
She can feel the simple warm sentiment of his hand on her back and his face in her hair. She answers readily enough, a smile blossoming on her face as her own free hand rises to the small of his back and she melts comfortably into him. It's obscene how familiar she is with being held by him now, and worse, how much she welcomes it. It becomes easy to shut off her troubles this way. For a moment, she only has to concern herself with the way she fits under his head and how he feels warm and solid and safe.
Maybe he's needed a non-sexy hug, and hell, she's needed one too. She's content to linger like that for a few heartbeats longer than strictly necessary before loosening her hold on him. Only to reach up to his cheek to hold him in place so that she can tiptoe up and kiss him on the other cheek. It's an equally chaste affair, come and gone on a fond impulse, though her smile remains as she steps back from him. ]
Alright, fuzz boy. If you get any cozier, you'll be passing out on the street. Let's get you home.
[ Meanwhile, Albert has successfully peed on the fire hydrant and he trots up to Eustace with his tongue out and stubby tail wagging proudly. Marie follows more demurely, her pointy snout poking at the ground for some mysterious scent. ]
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no subject
We never spent much time together before this.
[ An airship of the Grandcypher's size needs a matching large crew to man it, and even if they hadn't already gravitated towards their own social circles long before joining up, none of them are exactly models for indolence and respite. Siegfried had Feendrache to worry about, he had a neverending list of Society assignments to complete, and Lucio.... His steps slow a smidge again, a stray thought drifting across his mind. ]
I also don't know if Lucio can get drunk.
[ Because Lucio is....something. Certainly not human, though what exactly he is Eustace has no idea.
Now that they've settled into an even pace again, he becomes (even more) aware of the brush of their arms against each other and the proximity of her body to his. It had been booze-fueled impulse that led him to grab hold of her hands in the first place, but it's something else entirely that keeps their hands linked together. By now, the worst of his earlier giddiness has faded, leaving behind a familiar sense of contemplation. His fingers tighten around hers, the touchpoint a comfort as he grapples with the myriad thoughts swirling around his head. What is he so worked up about? Too many things. ]
It's been six months. [ Half a year. ] Even I need a break.
[ From the island's insane machinations is the implied but unsaid continuation. ]
no subject
So she can relate to the need for a temporary escape. Perhaps especially in his case. She would've been satisfied (in a manner) still living in a beat-up apartment and doing the bare minumum to get by if it meant sticking it to the Augur. Eustace has worked harder to play by the island's twisted rules, prepared more, made more of an effort to survive. It's a wonder that he's never complained at her, or tried to kick her out, or asked for anything in return.
With a slow turning of her heart, she's reminded of her sister. Lana and Eustace are very different people, but Ema can recognize when holding someone out at arm's length isn't the same as a lack of caring — when someone has had to be strong for so long that the walls they put up become difficult to scale on both sides. With Lana, it was the death of her ethics that changed her; with Eustace, Ema can only assume it was the death of his entire youth.
There's not much she can do about it, plainly. By now, it must just be how Eustace is. But without realizing it, somewhere along the way, she's hugged his hand against her stomach and closed her other hand over it, giving it a gentle squeeze. It's an unthinking gesture, her eyes elsewhere, her hands living out a habit of restlessness. ]
You're allowed to take more breaks. You don't always have to be so... alone.
no subject
In any case, he hadn't said it to garner sympathy or to elicit pity. It'd been a statement of truth, a momentary frustration given voice, but he's surprised nonetheless by her reaction, slight though it is. The kindness of her hands wrapped around his speaks volumes, the physical warmth of being held outmatched only by the warmth that settles lightly in his chest. It quells the worst of his restless thoughts, even as it draws forth other more conflicting emotions. Namely, that he shouldn't find as much comfort in a single squeeze of his hand as he does. Or in Ema, for that matter.
But alcohol and clarity of judgment do not a good combination make, and in the end he can only reply back stupidly with a question of his own, brows knit together as he stares down at her. ]
Are you offering? To keep me company.
[ They might be housemates and friends on the side, but he would never assume any more of her time and attention than what's already been given. ]
no subject
Yes, dummy. We don't have the most in common, and I know you like your peace and quiet, but we like each other well enough, don't we?
[ They already admitted as much over their ramen not-date... and they are officially #friends. Though what she's offering is perhaps a little more than that. Companionship, maybe... which is a little crazy in itself. What does she know of what he goes through? They're from completely different worlds, both literally and figuratively. She can only relate to him so much, no matter how much he tries to explain.
Despite her own confident offer, a niggle of self-doubt takes over. She lets their hands swing back down between them and she turns her eyes back to the street in front of them, the knot in her brow loosening. ]
I know my company isn't always the best, but it's there if you want it. If you need an extra hand or ear, or someone to just... be with, I'll always have time for you.
sorry for the manhandling
He slows and stops again, tugging on Ema's hand to catch her attention. It's all the warning she gets before he's closing the distance, one hand tugging her forward as the other reaches out for - surprise surprise! - a brief hug.
The arm wrapping around her shoulders is wholly intentional this time, motivated by purpose (and no small amount of alcohol) rather than spontaneous reflex. There's nothing erotic about the gesture; if anything it's entirely chaste, his fingers resting lightly in the space between her shoulder blades. His nose presses down gently atop her head, careful to avoid the jut of her glasses, and he lets his eyelids fall closed for the space of a few heartbeats as he lets himself be selfish for once in his life. ]
It's enough. Thanks.
[ Marie and Albert do not bark this time, too busy sniffing a lone fire hydrant some ten feet away. ]
no subject
By now, she's committed to indulging him. She'd slam the brakes on anything he might seriously regret, but she sees no harm in allowing him to be a little sleepy and goofy for an evening. It's cute. She wouldn't have guessed that he'd be such an affectionate drunk.
She can feel the simple warm sentiment of his hand on her back and his face in her hair. She answers readily enough, a smile blossoming on her face as her own free hand rises to the small of his back and she melts comfortably into him. It's obscene how familiar she is with being held by him now, and worse, how much she welcomes it. It becomes easy to shut off her troubles this way. For a moment, she only has to concern herself with the way she fits under his head and how he feels warm and solid and safe.
Maybe he's needed a non-sexy hug, and hell, she's needed one too. She's content to linger like that for a few heartbeats longer than strictly necessary before loosening her hold on him. Only to reach up to his cheek to hold him in place so that she can tiptoe up and kiss him on the other cheek. It's an equally chaste affair, come and gone on a fond impulse, though her smile remains as she steps back from him. ]
Alright, fuzz boy. If you get any cozier, you'll be passing out on the street. Let's get you home.
[ Meanwhile, Albert has successfully peed on the fire hydrant and he trots up to Eustace with his tongue out and stubby tail wagging proudly. Marie follows more demurely, her pointy snout poking at the ground for some mysterious scent. ]