week three, sunday

[moraled]

[It's after everything... that he steps into the hotel lobby and sees her there. Even if they don't know the outcomes of the votes... she was under suspicion. For a long moment, he's quiet, expression tight--

And then he steps forward towards her, sighing.]

Madam Walken.

I do not intend to interrupt if you do not wish me here.

[He'll step right off if that's the case. But... if not...]

Comments

[tightly]

[ Starting at 212 degrees leaves them no place left to go, Barnham. ]

I will answer your question after you answer mine.

[ Hmph! ]

[moraled]

[...Sigh.]

Very well then, Madam Walken.

I do not expect anyone to look after me. I am capable of looking out for myself, and if it causes me to be a target, so be it. I shall handle that situation as it appears.

[tightly]

[ She doesn't argue that. She mislikes it, of course, but he has proved remarkably unwilling to budge, so she doesn't feel the need to argue, really. Anyway, she had asked for no more than an answer and he had given it. A promise is a promise.

Writing... ]

I had have a friend back home. He is the strangest person I have ever met. At his own incomprehensible whims, he decides who he will accept into his life and then never gives up on that person. That's what he did for me.

[ Chane was a mess before Jacuzzi Splot, tell your friends. ]

I suppose I miss him, and it has prompted me to act as he would.

[ Thanks for making her admit it. (nottalking) ]

[moraled]

[... Oh.

That's...not what he was expecting at all. There's something painfully fragile, and yet painfully endearing, about a reason such as that. He frowns a little to himself, contemplative--and then he sighs.

Ultimately... he's still too much of a bleeding heart to decline something like that.]

... I still wish that you would focus first on your own safety.

However... I cannot and would not ever intend to tell you how you should feel. You may...naturally do as you please.

[He might not deserve it, but...that's not his call to make either, is it?]

[tightly]

[ Ultimately, such a vulnerable truth hadn't been so much as a last ditch attempt as just something she felt reasonably alright admitting. That he takes to it -- neither positively nor negatively, but not in resignation either, well.

For the first time in his presence, Chane's able to smile, slight and faint but there. ]

[moraled]

[... Honestly, what a nice smile. It may not be well-deserved, but... he appreciates seeing it.]

I fear I must have caused you a great deal of grief over the past few weeks, Madam Walken. I do apologize for that.

[tightly]

[ Look, her husband is a whimsical manchild acrobat, and her father a calculating mad scientist with immortality. You're underestimating her ability to cope with the trials of others.

Still, because she senses it's what he wants to hear (for a given definition of the word) -- ]

I accept your apology.

[moraled]

[Chane please.... he wouldn't have been fussed if she didn't accept it!

But he does accept that with a nod, simply, and changes the subject.]

How are you holding up?

[after...all of that disaster.]

[tightly]

[ Some things are just good manners, okay. Even if she's not always exercised it, she was brought up with proper rules of etiquette!

His subject change is accepted without fuss, ]

I am fine, for now.

[ Well aware that something could happen - to her, to Claire - that could change that in a split second. ]

[moraled]

[He knows as well .At some point... All he can do is pray for the best.]

... My hopes shall be with you as well.

[Please stay safe, Chane :'(]