quicktoanger | Fourth Casefile: Damage Control. [Voice/Written/Action]

[Voice]

I paused, staring at the journal, not sure what to say for a moment.

What the hell do you say?

"Right. Sorry ab-"

Let's try this again without the accent, Harry.

"Right. Sorry about last week. If I was... off, or confused anybody, or offended anyone, or whatever."

I paused again.

"I lost the jacket, Richard, but did you at least get to keep the rifle?"

I sat for a moment longer, then chuckled.

"Least the hand didn't stay shot. Alright, I think that's it."

I shut off the feed and set to work on a filter. I suck at those, for the record, but this kind of needed to be said and was private, so...

Hell's bells, those things are more trouble than they're worth.

[Written- Locked to Molly Carpenter, filter at 2% 5% 6% 9% 9% 13 ~~16%~~ 20%]

Kid. Molly. I'm sorry about last week. Really, really sorry.
~~I never meant to~~
~~It was like I~~
Forget it. Look. Let me make it up to you somehow?

[Action]

That done, I tucked my journal in my pocket and went into town. I felt a pressing need to talk to people, which, let me tell you, never happens to me. Ever. Plus, there were a couple awkward conversations I wanted to have.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"... Yeah, I'm already starting to lose that. And I hate Haikus. They're pretentious as hell."

... Wait. Haiku, not haikus. Ah, who gives a damn?

Another pity. You were quite eloquent in your defense of them, and in your appreciation of Milton's work. But from what I have come to understand even with the Shift we were inherently similar to how we would normally be; which begs the question. What of you remained the same?

[Normally? Not this curious, and not this up front. But Levarre was still flickering in the back of her mind, and while she manages to phrase it in a more polite way than her alternate self would have, she does ask.]

"A reader. Solitary. Content with little by way of fortune. Kind of stupid with women. Both in the 'don't know how to talk to them' and 'have a bad tendency to do stupid things if I think they're in trouble' senses of the word."

I shrugged. "Also not much for casual sex."

I think that particular aspect of her personality stemmed from her empathy. Self medicating, in a very strange way.

[Which is something Adele still does, to an extent. Or did. She thinks she might be able to manage without the odd trip to Good Spirits now.]

"Well, hell, it worked. I was seriously considering changing my stance there."

Err. He. "He. He was."

Not me. That guy was somebody else.

It made the entire thing much less disturbing if I just thought of it as another guy running around instead of me for a week.

... Okay, it was actually more disturbing, but less upsetting, I suppose.

Apparently she has that effect on men. Your Harry Blackstone would not have been the first; nor, if the multiverse theory wherein those timelines are entirely legitimate in some strange shade of reality is correct, would he have been the last.

[Her but not her; her face, her thoughts, her hands, and yet an entirely different life, mind, and body. For one her closet was full of clothing that was too loose in the chest. Odd thing, that. For another; she didn't need attention, contact, affection anywhere near as much as Levarre.

But, it was past. She could not change what had happened, only chose how she copes with it. This time? No one was hurt, not to her knowledge. So why should she worry?]

"Multiverse theory. Jesus, Rifleman Blackstone really exists in some alternate reality. That's kind of horrifying."

As is the idea of one Force Adept Levarre wandering the core worlds, or living next door to Luke Skywalker as he grows.

"Wait. Y- err, she lived with Obi-Wan?"

Well, hell, what was she complaining about last week, then?

No. Obi-Wan lived in isolation a great distance from where Luke grew up. Levarre lived next door, apparently. Kept an eye on him.

...

She promised his mother she would.

Well, that made a little more sense.

"I knew that. I sort of figured neighbors was relative. I'm a bit of a Star Wars fan."

Which was kind of like Keith Moon saying he was a bit of a party animal.

When you say 'a bit'. Do you mean 'just slightly' or 'I do not wish to frighten this woman by'...what is the term? Ah. Yes. 'fanboying all over the Jedi in the village?'

"... I met Luke Skywalker over a month ago. I still grin about it sometimes. Sometimes I do a little flailing thing with my hands."

I deadpanned the whole thing, just for effect.

Ah. The 'fanboy shuffle' I have heard of this in folklore and wild fantastical tales. How does it go again? You take your dignity and throw it out the window?

"It helps if you weigh it down first, so you get more distance. For example, I typically tie my self-respect and capacity for civilized behavior to either end. It gives it a sort of balance for throwing."

Such selfless defenestration. However do you cope with the loss of so much of your coherent thought?

I didn't say anything. Simply stared at her for a moment- without making eye contact. It's doable, but there's a trick to it- and then, after a moment, I lifted my hands.

And made a twitching motion. In and out. Three times, all in mechanically bored deadpan.

Flail.

Flail.

Flail.

[She's not going to break. No matter how terribly hilarious this is.

...

That isn't to say she hasn't flipped open her journal discreetly and turned it in Harry's direction. Recording. For future reference, when she could bring herself to laugh at it. For now? Line. Face. Equally bored. Equally deadpan.]

What an exciting display. Almost as amusing as watching you swallow your own tongue when I suggested...how did I put it? Ah. That I would enjoy besmirching your honor.

"Yeah, well, my honor's already a little bit besmirched, at the moment."

Damn right it was. My daughter's conception was something out of some horror-themed porn movie.

Yeah. Long story.

Do you have someone hiding under the table that I am not aware of?

"Pre-besmirched. It was smirched before and I haven't unsmirched it."

...As a physician, I am able to recommend a cream for that.

... Damn. That one nearly got me. Time to play hardball.

"I doubt I'd be able to afford your hourly rate."

You want double-entendre? Lady, I could do double-entendre.

I would rather pay you to never be troubled by it, for an hour or any other length of time.

"Man, they weren't kidding. The uniform really does make all the difference."

[Action]

fleurdesel - 2012-04-13 20:52 (UTC) - Expand

Fourth Casefile: Damage Control. [Voice/Written/Action]

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