driftfleet | Libuscha IV System Mingle (no. 1)

[Yeah no. He's seen people drink for sorrow and people drink to forget and nothing good comes from the latter. There's no amount of alcohol that can make whatever has Lup riled up better and she'll just get herself sick and then make herself Taako's problem somehow. He drags the bottle a little further from her and waffles between pouring himself another drink and not.]

At least it gave you something. I've been dumping shit at its feet-- roots -- whatever -- since I found it and I've still got nada. I've gotta make another round of the city to pick up more crap now.

What'd it give you that you're so pissed you have to get pissed anyway? A Guide to Being Creepy by your pal the Red Robe or something?

[She ignores his question, half because she really don't want to tell him yet and half because in her drunken stupor she has no patience for his frequent ribs against the red robe thing. That's her family- their family. And Taako may not know it but he will one day. Instead she glowers at him, recognizing what he's doing with the bottle and debating how long she'll indulge him before this devolves into a bar brawl or something.]

You can't just throw shit at it and expect it to do anything but give you shit in return. Y'gotta, like. Share and tell. Bleed your heart to some poor sucker. Be honest. You're so great at that, right?

Hey, Lup?

You know what?

[He gives her the blandest stare he can manage and then pours himself another drink.]

Fuck off?

[He plops the bottle on the counter between them, the temptation to turn it into water ever greater than before. He could really piss her off if he did that and that honesty rib? Yeah, sure he isn't the most open of books, but could you blame him? She knew more than he liked about his life, so she should know. It didn't pay to be honest when the world was against you. Being stuck on the road alone was dangerous as fuck and lying about your abilities, being good at lying about being not alone was how you survived. It didn't pay to be honest and then it just became habit and then it became easier to lie than to tell the truth. She knew about him, so she should know there were large swathes of his life that were better left unsaid.]

So you're telling me you, little Miss Mysterio, unburdened your soul to a tree?

[She scowls and flips him off- not because she didn't deserve the pushback, because she absolutely does, but because she was here first and he chose to come to her. The significance of that fact is completely lost on her drunken mind at this point, but it'll click later. For now she's just annoyed that he chose the worst possible time.]

Yeah, well, maybe I did. Looks like trees are immune to Fisher's "shkkrkk skkhrkk" too. [She lifts her fingers in air-quotes before grabbing the bottle and pouring another shot, though she struggles with it a little, almost missing, and doesn't drink it right away when she rights it again.] Eeeeeverybody gets to hear the sad story of Lup except you. A toast to Madam Director, for her incredible forward-thinking!

[He rolls his eyes at the middle finger and sips his alcohol, hoping the burn is enough to take the edge off. It doesn't and his ears flatten back as he listens to Lup whinge on. When he saw her sitting here drinking like she was, he thought something interesting might be happening. Instead, it was just a bunch of misdirected anger about something she's staunchly opposed to revealing. Whatever she got has her upset and, while he shouldn't give a flying shit, he does. It bothers him that he does, and it makes the alcohol taste ever more bitter as he drinks it down. Fucking feelings are stupid. He'd been getting used to her company and maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe it was just the beginning of the end. He wouldn't blame her. He's a hard pill to swallow and it's not like people haven't rejected him before.

It wasn't his fault she'd gone and confessed to a stupid tree and gotten a stupid gift in return.

But when she takes a dig at the Director and at the fact that she's essentially stolen a piece of his life from him again, he slaps the half-empty glass on the bar counter.]

Yeah, I get it. It sucks to be you! Poor Lup who gets to know everything and lord it over stupid dumb Taako! What a fucking shitty thing to be able to remember things. Everyone gets to know more about Lup and Taako than Taako himself.

[He doesn't even bother hiding the bitterness in his voice. If she's going to whinge, then so will he. He's tired of hearing static everywhere. He's tired of knowing that he's been lied to again. He's tired of everyone here knowing something about him that he can't know. He's tired of the way she looks at him when he says things the wrong way - all sadness and pain.

More than anything, he's tired of not knowing why he gives a flying shit about someone he's just met a few months ago and why he can't stop doing it. He can't stop himself from worrying about her she's upset. He can't stop himself from thinking he should get her some water when she's this drunk or she'll get herself sick. Or thinking he should maybe slip the bartender some coin to start cutting her off soon.

But he's also been burned too many times before to open himself up like that again. Once he starts caring is when they leave.

So he does what's easier and snaps back, standing up from the bar.]

Since I can't hear your sad sack story, maybe I should just leave then.

[Some quiet, distant part of her, currently buried beneath layers upon layers of alcohol, is aware that she's going to regret this later. She'll think back on words exchanged and arguments made and the lashes of hurt from one to the other and back again, and she'll hate herself for this because Taako has less of a reason to forgive than she does. She has to be more careful with how she treats him. She's gotten away with so much already.

She doesn't think of it now, though. That's a problem for future Lup. Present Lup just bares her teeth and lays her ears back as flat as his, aggravated by his accusation, his lack of understanding. He thinks it's so great to be the one who remembers? He thinks she's lording it over him? Like she doesn't suffer every time he looks at her the way he might look at- at anyone, when she's never in her life been just anyone to him.

Stupid Taako, indeed. How dare he.]

Yeah, I love remembering. Love it! Love being the only one who remembers our whole lives, the only one that everybody I've ever cared about forgot. I love having you look at me like I'm a total stranger. I love being your creepy stalker just for wanting to spend time with my fucking--

[And she stops herself this time, teeth clenched, her hand gripping the shot glass in a heated fist until it cracks under the pressure. She stares at it for a few seconds, opening her palm to let it fall back to the table, then reaches over to grab the glass he'd abandoned and down the rest of his drink, slumping over against the bar. There's a negligible bit of red smeared across the glass but she pays it no mind.]

Godsdammit, Taako… It's not like I asked you to come. Go ahead and leave, Lup's good in here.

[And she's not, at all. But there's nothing he can do about that, and it's not his fault, so he's better off staying far, far from her line of fire.]

[Our whole lives? Our. There it is again, the bit of information he can hear and the conclusion that's fuzzed out of his brain. He knows it's hard for her, too, to be the one who's fuzzed out, but that doesn't diminish his pain either. Comparing each other's hurt is just stupid, but it's the brand of stupid that Taako does best. He hisses at her as she comes to an abrupt stop, downing his drink.

Fine, be that way.

This just proves that trying to care about someone does nothing but bite you in the ass. This is the last time he's going to let himself make that mistake. Which means it's not worth getting mad over anymore. You only get mad when you care. His ears relax and his face goes impassive. Easier this way, not feeling. It's normal, he's used to it.]

Mmhm, my mistake. Not gonna make it again.

[He drops a few credits on the table because he isn't going to owe her anything for this, then reaches over to the bottle of vodka.]

But I'm getting a full drink out of this before I leave.

[Those words, and his tone, strike an uncomfortable chord in her, weaving threads of hurt and regret and frustration that don't know how to congeal into guilt yet. Instead they're stopped short at a wall of alcohol and misery and they become of course he's giving up, and he has no reason to stay for me, and even booze is more important to him than I am. And it burns in her chest as sure as if he'd cast Immolate with his words. She's tempted to smash the whole goddamn bottle on the ground out of pure spite for its existence, because Taako wants it and not her.

She doesn't, though, because she paid for it and she's not done drinking it, dammit. So instead she hunches further, ducking her head as the traitor tears sting her eyes but don't fall, and she gestures dismissively at him. She doesn't speak, doesn't trust her voice. Just... go. Have your damned drink and go.

Maybe when it's empty she'll be able to pretend she doesn't care, like he does.]

[He grabs the bottle and pours himself a second to replace the one she just took. He shouldn't care about her at all anymore. She's in a shitty mood and whatever caused it isn't something she's going to tell him about. Right now, he isn't even sure he cares enough to know.

But he still can't let her get so sick the alcohol up and kills her stupid dumb ass, so as he pours, he pushes just enough energy into the bottle to water the vodka down. She's drunk enough she won't even notice (maybe), and this way at least when she starts taking pulls straight off the dumb thing, her liver and kidneys won't die from the shock. Stupid idiots always need Taako to take care of them, even when they don't want him. After the way she's acting tonight, he isn't sure she'll ever want to talk to him again.

Fair enough to him. He's used to being alone. It's no skin off his ears.

He knocks his shot back and then points his fingers at his eyes, then to the bartender. Anymore shit heading her way better be watered down. Then he turns his glass upside down and clacks it hard against the bartop as he kicks his chair back under.]

Just don't die out in the snow, dumbass. Kravtiz'll get pissed if I let the only other person from our plane up and die.

[Yeah Kravitz can eat a dick if that's all he cares about. Any other day that'd be a great joke about them dating, but since it's today she keeps her mouth shut and all but ignores his departure, returning to her drink in sullen, angry silence. She does not, in fact, notice the watered down alcohol, nor does she notice the subsequent drinks are similarly treated as such going forward. She pays for his drink, the rest of hers, the broken glass. She bitches at the bartender when he tries to probe her about what's up, and then she bitches at a couple of assholes (who are probably not assholes, in retrospect, probably just trying to help her, everyone's so fucking nice here) attempting to pick her up. She starts a bar fight, and then another as the night draws to a close. Probably at a different bar? She can't remember. The whole thing is a wild blur of misery, which is pretty much what she'd wanted in the first place.

Her last tussle gets her kicked out around closing time (that, or get arrested, so she opts to leave) and it's about then, wobbling unsteadily outside of a bar at 3AM, clutching a wrapped canvas stick to her chest, that she realizes that she can't drive herself back. Twenty minutes of wandering aimlessly and she realizes she can't remember where her shuttle is. Thirty minutes bundled up on a snowy park bench trying not to pass out and she realizes she needs help. Ten minutes, and she gets ahold of Kravitz, who she does not tell to suck a dick. And sure enough, Kravitz helps. He really is a good guy.

She throws up. She misses Barry. She remembers a little bit of what happened with Taako and passes out on the Bloodsport's couch before she can even think to cry about it.

Her hangover basically ruins her for the entire following day, and the day after is left mostly for ruminating on what the hell to do next. Her memory of everything is... blurry... and hell, isn't that ironic, considering the whole argument was about memories and static and loss? Or as much of it as she can remember. She knows she was a piece of shit, even if she had her reasons. Has. Has her reasons.

She also knows Taako was trying, in his very unique Taako way, to help her, and she was too drunk to notice.

Fuck.

She waits until the second day, in the evening, when things are quieter and she's less likely to run into anyone in the hall. When the hangover is gone and she can drive the shuttle, when she's cleaned up and dressed in a way she knows he'd appreciate, because Taako don't roll with no scrubs, because she's determined to put effort into this. He needs to know that she didn't just roll out of bed and stagger over to fumble through this. He deserves her best effort.

People never really apologized to them, growing up. It's not something they're used to hearing. It's why they learned, over the years, to live so unapologetically. But today, with her clothes and hair done up in style, with makeup on her face to cover the marks of her bar fights, with that same stick wrapped in canvas tucked under her arm and her hands wringing uneasily together, Lup knocks on Taako's door. To apologize.]

[Unlike Lup, Taako has spent the last couple of days blissfully unaware and uncaring. He's gone to "work" at the Melting Pot, futzed around on the planet, and kept up with his cooking on the First Breath. Maybe he was a little more vigorous about his baking than usual, but whatever! Tyrion liked tarts, so Taako could bake entire fucking pies if he wanted to do it. He could even expand his repertoire and make brownies or decorative cookies or fucking lemon squares for all he cares. It's all mostly conjured anyway and after 24 hours the baked goods disappear, meaning he can start up again and spend all his happy, non-stressed as fuck time baking up shit that won't even stick around.

He's perfectly fine is the point, so when he hears a knock at his door, Taako slides off his bed, blowing on his nails as he waits for a coat of polish to dry.]

I already put today's motherload out to cool, you nerds. If you aren't satisfi--

[The words die in his throat as he opens the door and sees who's come by. Taako's ears flick back and his face moves from surprise to impassive to annoyed before settling there. Her outfit is nice and all, but whatever she's here for, Taako isn't sure he's ready or willing to buy into it again. He's covered up bruises before with some concealer and foundation, so he knows the telltale marks - the way it never sits quite right, no matter how many layers you cake on. He should have warned the bartender about that, too, but there hadn't been time and he hadn't been in the mood. Maybe getting into a fight took the hot air out of her sails and she's calmed down some.

Taako raises an eyebrow, then goes back to blowing on his nails.]

What do you want? I'm in the middle of something.

[She waits a beat or two, to see if he just slams the door in her face. This whole conversation is sort of dependant on that fact- whether or not it even happens, that is. When he doesn't, though, she knows she's committed. He's giving her a chance, as unlikely as that may be. It's not a good sign, per se, but a faint hope.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, lifts a hand into the air.]

Zone of Truth!

[...And there's no save, because nothing happens, because she doesn't have that spell. But she needs that brevity, desperately, because this could go very very badly if she's not careful. With her eyes open again, ears drooping low, she lets her hand fall and just... lets it all out.]

I'm sorry. Taako, I'm... I'm so sorry. I was an ass, and it's not your fault. None of this is. I should've just... I should've told you what was going on.

[She grips the wrapped stick, fingers twisting around it, not unwrapping it just yet. She hadn't had the courage to do it on her own yet, to touch it without that protective layer of fabric. She doesn't trust herself not to snap it over her knee if she has to look at it in her possession.]

I... I got something... at the tree. Something I didn't want. Something that... it...

[She trails off, biting her tongue. This isn't about her. Don't make it about her. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she tries again.]

I wanted to avoid you, because I didn't want what happened to happen. I knew I couldn't deal with it and... I guess I just didn't, not really. Wh-what I'm saying is- I'm sorry I lashed out. That I hurt you. You might not believe me, but that's the truth- I never want to hurt you. I should've just done this from the start.

[The fuck?! He actually takes a step back because even though he knows she shouldn't be able to do that spell, it doesn't stop his kneejerk reaction to hearing Merle's favorite "fuck you, I do what I want" spell get cast. There's no magic behind it though, none of that familiar struggle trying to resist against a spell, so his shoulders relax and he raises as eyebrow at her again as she starts talking.

None of it is any new information, but it has a lot less anger and bitterness behind it this time. She's still carrying that wrapped up package with her and he eyes it as her grip on it changes. Whatever that thing is, she's either afraid of it or she hates it. He'd gotten a glimpse of it the other day, too, so it's definitely the thing the tree gave her.

The weird thing is? He's not used to apologies and he doesn't know how to react to them. No one apologizes to Taako because anyone who's wronged him typically doesn't stick around or he doensn't stay long enough to get one. Or they die. One of the three. So when Lup apologizes, looking like it's taking every inch of her soul to do it, he just stares at her unsure of what to do. After she finishes, he lets the quiet sink in while he waits for his brain to kick in, but nothing comes.

No one apologizes to Taako because it would mean someone had to care for him first. He'd closed himself off to that a long time ago, doubly so after Glamor Springs, so he only has one mode to default to when confronted with an unknown situation.]

So? What do you want from me now? [As soon as the words leave his mouth he knows it's wrong. This isn't what he's supposed to say, but he's never been the nice one. No one was ever nice to him, so he never had to learn to be nice himself.

He just can't stop himself.]

Because a "sorry, Taako" or a "my bad, Lup" doesn't exactly change the shit that went down. If it's so damn painful being near me and being forgotten, why don't you just stay away? It's easier for you that way, isn't it?

[Not easier, not better; this is wrong. It's wrong. His hands clench and despite the polish still drying on his nails, he crosses his arms over his chest.]

And it's not like I need anyone holding my hand through all this.

[She knows it's wrong, too, but the words still sting as he speaks. She brought this on herself, though, so rather than lash back at him she lowers her eyes, her ears drooping further, silent and almost submissive in a way she's never been before.]

No... it's me, Taako. I need you. I... I've always needed you. You're- [You're my heart. She closes her eyes, keeping the words close to her chest, because they won't mean anything to him now. He won't smile and take her hand and acknowledge it like it's the most natural thing in the world, he won't laugh with her or hold her or call her a doofus for acting the way she is. He won't call her Lulu unless it's an accident and...

...and she exhales and tries again.]

The fact that you don't remember me is... is my own fault. I've been blaming everything else - the director, the voidfish, whatever - just so I could run away from the truth. I left, Taako. It was only supposed to be a couple of days, but shit went sideways and it meant that I wasn't there when you... when you forgot about me. It meant you were left alone. All of that... it's because of me.

[And maybe some things went bad because of his decisions, sure. He's an adult, he can take care of himself, his choices are his own. But they were a team, in all things, their whole lives. If she'd taken him with her to hunt down the gauntlet, someone would have been there to watch her back and stop the dwarf who murdered her. If she'd been with him on that cooking show that apparently ended badly, she could have supported him, been a partner who kept him safe and on the level. They'd have been lost, but they'd have had their memories of each other. It could have been so, so different.]

Being around you, being forgotten- it hurts sometimes, sure. I won't deny that. But... I know, I know it would be so much worse if I stayed away. [Ten years she'd endured it already, locked away without him, wondering if he's safe, if he's even alive, if he's with people who know how to take care of him like they always took care of each other. Never again. She never wants to live like that again.] I can't... Taako, I can't do this without you.

[This is just weird. She's not fighting back, she's penitent and quiet and beneath it all there's a thread of desperation. And as the words tumble out of her, he watches her. His wariness and distrust shifts to a strange disbelief and then an uncomfortable realization.

She's afraid of him leaving her. He's noticed hints of that here and there, the way she always reaches out and how she always somehow manages to find her way to him. It was one of the reasons why he'd sought her out that night. He hadn't seen her all day and was curious where she'd gotten off to.

And here she is telling him more about a life he doesn't remember. She was only supposed to be gone a couple of days? Why the hell would that matter? He only just met her a couple of months ago. Why would the Director erase an entire person? Who the fucking hell was she that her disappearing for a few days would be enough to--

The realization hits him like a knife through his heart: the rites.

Lucretia has erased people before and even if he hadn't given a shit about Boyland, the dude had family who now knew nothing about him. The possibility of two voidfish meant a possibility of two different rites, the latter of which he wouldn't be immune to. It would explain the static in his head. It would explain why sometimes he reacted without thinking to her as natural as breathing. It would explain why he'd smile at her when she wasn't paying attention when he never smiled at anyone. It would explain why he'd spent the last few days stress-baking when he shouldn't have been so upset. If she'd undergone the Rites, it meant she was dead somehow and she'd been important to Taako. But then why would Lucretia erase a Red Robe's existence and why would she be important to Taako, sharing his face and his life, unless she was--

Taako winces as the static wall slams into him harder than before. He was too close and all those revelations get swallowed like a gulp of air, gone like they never existed. He felt empty afterward, confused about what had almost gotten through before it was dragged back down into a darkness he couldn't grasp.

He refocuses on her words and some of them slip away from him in the meantime. But the most important thing is the way she looks ready to break if he pushes her away. It's a familiar look. He'd worn it the first few times his family decided it was more trouble to keep him than it was worth. He was pushed along regardless of how he begged or bartered to stay, and each time he left more and more of himself behind until there was nothing left for them to take from him.

Taako, I can't do this without you.

Wouldn't that be nice to believe.]

See, that's the problem - as far back as I can remember, I've always been alone, Lup. I can do this without you because that's been the last hundred years of my life rinse and repeat. So you leaving? It's not a big deal. I'm used to it.

[His words will cut her, but this time he meant them. He doesn't want anyone to think he needs them. If he admits he cares, it'll be easier to be hurt when they inevitably cast him aside.

"You'll be safe here with your Auntie, okay? It's just for a little bit. We'll be back soon. We promise, Taako."

"Stay with your grandpa, okay? It's just for a little bit. I can come get you when I'm feeling better."

"It's only for a little while. You just have to go to your cousins. I'll come back for you when the farm picks up again."

He was better when he didn't need people. He could be alone again. He could survive it as he always has, filling in the holes left in his life with new things until they eventually got ripped away, too. He's survived worse. He almost died in a stupid cave on his very first outing with a dumb adventure crew after all. He's died multiple times apparently - a time loop, but very real deaths. Ones he still has nightmares about when he thinks too hard about them.

He stares at her for a long hard moment, and then he sighs, throwing his hands up.]

But whatever. It's not like we haven't all said stupid shit when we're drunk.

[He could be alone again, but that didn't mean he wanted to be. She could be annoying and pushy and mysterious and a little too attached, but she had come back. She is standing at his door in the same way he had countless times as he watched relatives walk away, and that makes his choice easy.]

So explanation or apology or whatever this was; consider it accepted for now. You look like I immolated your puppy or something, you big nerd.

You can make it up to me by fixing my nails. You got me all tense and they're all fucked up now.

[He shows her his hands and sure enough, the polish is smudged and ridged from being clenched and crossed.]

[The further he gets, the worse she looks, until the immolated puppy bit is on point. She's waiting for the inevitable rejection, distantly wondering if there's some way to remove her own memories, because if he no longer wants her around she doesn't know how to deal with that. Maybe make a deal with the Atroma. Cut her own heart out and try not to die or lose control.

But then he finishes, and he accepts it for now, and the relief that crosses her expression is measurable, though her tense posture isn't gone, not yet. She's been allowed back in, but... but there's one more thing she has to do. One more thing to let go of. She's not so sure that doing his nails is going to be a fitting moment for it, and she can't bear to hold it that long.

Tentatively she smiles, casting her gaze across the ruined nails.]

You did a number on them, yikes, sorry for that too. Um… maybe this will sweeten the pot.

[She loosens her grip on the canvas, glancing down at it.]

The tree gave me this, but… it isn't mine. Not anymore.

[And then, taking a deep breath, she unwraps the Umbra Staff. His Umbra Staff, peppered with stars and bangles that she'd never seen until the tree because she'd only had an inside perspective of it for the last decade. Decor that she didn't give it.

Quietly, she holds it out towards him.]

[Since she's finally revealing it, he zeroes in on the package, ears perked in curiosity. This thing was what caused her to spiral into a depressive drunk fit, so it has to be something interesting, right? Or dangerous. Or dumb. He never really knows with Lup anymore these days.

Her explanation does little to explain anything, but the moment the wrapping come off, his eyes widen. It's his focus - the Umbra Staff, all decked out in the same way he'd left it back at home, all the stars and bangles and little runes showing the people he's defeated on its handle just as he remembers it. And then he realizes that it was hers at some point and feels an immediate recoil form in his stomach even as his hands itch to take the handle from her. It was hers and one of their first encounters was her buying up a bunch of umbrellas and torching them into oblivion. Whatever the reason, she hates her creation now enough to make her bitter and angry when she got it back.

It couldn't be the decor he added because that shit was tight and he had a very good sense for accessorizing. And she's handing it over, just like that, one of the best focuses he's ever had in his life. It's saved him quite a few times already and having it with him would make him feel safer, but...

Taako peels his eyes from the umbrella, realizing he's been staring at it in dumb shock, and raises them to her face. He can't read that expression, the small smile and the relief mixed with whatever the Umbra Staff evokes in her.]

I mean, I'll take it if you don't want it, but uh... Is it gonna cause a problem? Me using it while you're, you know, the actual owner? Right there? This thing's kinda got a mind of its own sometimes. I don't want it to murder me 'cause it wants to pull a Dorothy and go home.

[Her smile falters, just for a moment, her gaze darting down towards it before quickly averting back to his, and beneath all the makeup she suddenly looks... so tired. Keeping it had been a thought that could only be described as fleeting at best, a momentary pining for the good old days, when life was harder but made a whole lot more sense to all of them, when what they had to worry about was finding the light, escaping the Hunger, getting stronger, building bonds. Almost a decade she'd wielded this as her focus, and then for a decade she'd become it and very nearly lost herself. She still has dreams of those days, when she lets herself sleep, of drowning in a sea of black curtains, of tearing at fabric in impotent rage while Taako suffered just outside of her reach. She wakes up with the sheets kicked off the bed, a strangled shout caught in her throat, her voice stolen by the staff as much as the rest of her had been.

Even if she kept it, she could never use it again. She spends enough hours on her own that she could never feel safe with it at her side. And more than anything else, if she kept it, if she wielded it around Taako? It wouldn't feel right. She'd feel like she stole it from him, and maybe he'd feel that way too, if not at first then over time. In truth, all she really wants is to snap it over her knee and let it burn until even the dust of its remains are gone, just like those umbrellas she bought from space Costco last month.

It would be such a waste.

She shakes her head, finally, stretching her arm so the staff is little closer to him, leaning back so it's a little further from her. She's trying to be subtle about it, but there are cues if he looks for them; it's as if the damn thing is on fire, and she can't let it go fast enough.]

What was causing that is... gone, now. A flaw in the design, when I made it. [It wasn't supposed to be able to eat people.] I promise... it won't do that anymore.

[Her skin is practically crawling from holding it and since Taako's craving it right back, he doesn't hesitate again. He takes the umbrella from her, checking it over to make sure it's just as he actually remembers it - nothing new added or nothing taken away. That little crack in one of the stars? The one he spent time gluing back together rather than wasting a spell slot on Mend? Yeah, still there. The slight discolorations from being blown up and eaten by a purple worm? Yup, still there too. Nothing new that he can sense which means she hasn't gone and booby-trapped it either.]

One hell of a flaw. It saved my neck a few times, almost blew up two people a couple others - all in all, not so bad on the odds.

[Kind of sad to hear that was gone, actually. He might not have minded it jumping back into his hands or firing off a Scorching Ray when he was threatened.]

Oh, also?

[He finally looks up from his inspections, eyeing her flatly.]

You look like hell. No, I've seen hell and it's a big boring box. You look like you got pummeled and then threw up like seventeen times in the snow. Nice threads though.

[Just a little teasing - he can't accept what is essentially a gift unless he teases some in return.]

[The moment he takes it, it's as if a weight's been yanked right off of her shoulders. There's still plenty of lingering stress - that shit doesn't vanish immediately and as he said, she does look like hell even with the makeup and cleanup. She's on edge as she watches him examine it, but her eyes are on the umbrella rather than him, so the cause of her malcontent is still obvious. This... is going to take some getting used to. Seeing it. Seeing him with it. A wizard never goes far without their focus, so he'll just... have it now. She has to learn to live with it.

It's something she'd been resigned to the moment she decided to give it to him, though, so this isn't a surprise to her. She can manage. It takes her a few seconds, but somehow she drags her gaze away from the Umbra Staff and back at him, some of the tension breaking as she smiles again. It's not on par with how she usually smiles at him, but it's real, and it's a step in the right direction.]

It might've been seventeen. I lost count after three. Managed to do it at least once on some prick who tried to drag me home with him, though, so I call that a win.

I literally told you not to die in the snow, goofus. That doesn't mean you don't try to get as close as possible anyway.

[With his inspection finished, he swings it up to rest on his shoulder like he used to. It feels right to have it back at his side again, but he'll have to reattune to it now. He can tell that it's out of whack somehow now that he has it in his possession again. What a pain in the ass.

He might also not carry it around as much as he used to. There's not a lot of danger here and, well....the way Lup looks at the staff is like she's haunted by it. This might be a "when I think shit will hit the fan" type of dealio. For now though, he wants its familiar weight on his shoulder, where it makes him feel safe. It's a tether back to his world, to the people he left behind, a reminder of what he needs to finish on the Iskaulit so they can all get back to them.]

Good on you for aiming it right at least one of the times. I hope you ruined his night.

I definitely ruined his shoes. Oh shit, speaking of which- I met this guy in a park later who had the most amaaaaazing boots. I wanna stake out the place one day before we leave here, see if I can track him down and find out where he got 'em.

[She gestures forward, trying to shoo him back into the room so she can join him. She has nails to do, after all. And maybe once he puts the umbrella down she'll start to feel a bit more normal again.]

Do you even remember where it was, drunkie?

[He hesitates when she shoos him backward. It's not the first time Lup's been in his room. The fact that pieces of his closet go missing periodically at around the same time she shows up in them is evidence of that. He's known she comes in and out in the same way he's been stealing onto the Heron to liberate certain pieces of her closet to a more kind and loving home before. It's just the first time he's ever been in here while she was actually here.

This was his one space on the Fleet that was his. He didn't care about cleaning or keeping a unified aesthetic in here. It was a mess on the best of days (save for his closet, which was always neat), but after the last few he'd taken to stuffing it full of stuff. Things to fill the gaps that made him feel better. They were everywhere and there wasn't exactly a lot of sitting space. He glances back at the room, then at her and tosses a Mage Hand over his shoulder to clear more of a spot off the bed, dumping some pillows and mismatched chess pieces to the ground.]

And don't shoo me in my own home, nerd.

[Then he steps back and throws himself unceremoniously where he'd been before, deep into the pillow mountain that had overtaken where most normal people slept.]

If you can remember where it is and it isn't cold, maybe I'll go with you. How amazing these boots are need to be studied for science.

[She half-expected him to refuse, maybe fetch the nail polish and walk them to the kitchen or somewhere more open and less... personal. This, in a sense, is another way he's showing her that she might be forgiven one day. Whatever his reason, she'll take it without complaint.

She follows him in, nudging the door with her foot so that it's not quite shut, but also not leaving them open for any passerby to invade, either. He can decide for himself what he'll be happy with- that's what Mage Hand is for. It's true that space isn't plentiful - mostly thanks to the grand disaster in his room that she'd honestly come to expect over the years - so she sits herself down on the bed near his hand, reaching out for the polish remover and a dabber sponge.]

I actually don't remember what they looked like? But I wrote down that I saw them, and the guy was definitely real. I'm kinda hype for the inevitable surprise when I see them again.

[From his place on the pillow fort, he uses Mage Hand not to mess with the door, but to put the Umbra Staff on the shelf over his bed. Within easy reach if he needs it, but out of her direct line of sight. She might say that whatever caused the staff to act on its own is gone, but if it came down to a contest of wills over it, he's not sure he could beat her. She's got levels upon levels of power over him, and she's the staff's creator - even if she loathes the thing now. You always leave a piece of yourself behind in whatever you make, whether it's a hugely powerful focus or a croissant.

Fucking piece of wisdom right there. Too bad only his internal monologue heard it.]

Well then how can we trust that you were even lucid enough to know what was awesome when you were drunk?

[And wrote down?]

...Were you chronicling your drunkenness?

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