"Er... yes, okay, I suppose I should tell you that if you're trying to reach me I'm not here, and if you're trying to reach me because you want to do something involving pointy bits of metal or otherwise painful objects, I'm never going to be here. So sorry."
[April bends her knees, bringing them up to her chest to wrap her arms loosely around, not even noticing one of the dogs dives in to replace her feet on the carpet, absorbing the bit of warmth she left.]
So're you. It's why you came back to the house, I guess. It's what makes our house...our house.
Oh, I already gave him an earful. [muttered sourly. That had hurt too, Dorian's complete lack of caring. His own fault - he should have seen it. Rincewind could be called many things, but he'd never thought one of them would be naive.
He flinches, glancing down.]
I'm not - fucked up. [an awkward curse to get his tongue around.] I came back because... well, because...
[because this is the place he's made for himself, in this world. This fur-covered house, with its stocked liquor cabinet and oddball inhabitants. Rincewind likes it here. He feels welcomed here.
It's just that he also used to feel safe here. Maybe he'll get that back, eventually. He hopes he does.]
You totally came home bleeding. Or ex...bleeding. Bloody.
[ She turns her head to give him a small attempt at a half smile, the expression matching the total lack of bite or effort in her tone. There were levels of fucked up. Some just came more murdery than others. ]
[Rincewind frowns at that (unfortunately accurate) observation, rubbing unconsciously at his neck.]
Well. That's not my fault. [but the flicker of a smile on April's face means he can tell she's not teasing him, so he holds back any further grumbles. At least on that note.
It's not like she doesn't have a point.]
I - know that. [mostly.] Just, it's not going to feel comfortable again. Not all at once.
Mm. Do whatever you want. Just leave a sticky note or whatever next time you do a drama flounce. I had to was my own clothes for, like, forever with Luggage gone.
[It's a lie. She had the raccoons wash it, like she had since time began. But the point remained. Kind of.]
Oh, you poor thing. [not even bothering to hide that sarcasm.] I can't think of anything that would be worse to go through. Certainly not being sent to take part in someone else's bloody revolution all because some kind-hearted idiot you were friends with years ago wrote fantastic lies about you in a country where you can lose your head for just looking up at the wrong person.
[Rincewind pauses for breath, considers continuing his rant - and then just drowns himself in wine again. He'll need to find the bottle, at this rate.]
[ Sorry, bro. Everyone here has a sob story and April mostly just cares about her own. She will manage to get up to get some more wine, though...so that she can share in the drinking. ]
[The word "sexy" and the very thought of Twoflower nearly short-circuits Rincewind's already battered brain. He shakes his head quickly, a hand going to his temple as if he can massage the very idea away.]
No, gods. Why is it always sex with you?
[and, quickly, in case she attempts to give him an answer:]
It wasn't so much that he lied as it was that he wrote lies. Twoflower... sees the world through the most dangerously delusional eyes of anyone I've ever met. We can both look at the same run-down whorehouse or bar fight, and he'll call it "quaint" and want to have his picture taken in front of it.
[his look softens. There really was some strange appeal to the little idiot. Rincewind couldn't help but miss him, despite how bloody dangerous he was to Rincewind's health.]
...He wrote that I was I was a "Great Wizard" and made Ankh-Morpork sound like some amazing place to live. Apparently that's enough to inspire taking up pitchforks against centuries of oppression.
[Great, sexy. Same difference. She was totally not on board with what he called a 'lie,' but whatever. Not the debate for the bloody. Maybe another night. When he was calling her the liar.]
They were being set up in the first place. The revolutionaries, I mean. By someone who'd planned to murder the emperor anyway - gave him other heads to roll, you know, after the fact. Convenient.
[Rincewind's expression darkened. He shook his head.]
They were little more than children. Literally. And they had this dreamy idea of how things would go, that was the real trouble. They bought into this grand thought that there's some nobility in dying for a cause. Hook, line, and sinker.
[But he admits, after a pause:]
I suppose we won though. Technically. A bunch of other things happened first, their "people's revolution" really had nothing to do with it, but - I suppose you could say it turned out for them. Er. I think. The last I knew I had a knife against my throat before I was pulled back here, so I can't say for sure how it ended.
[for them or himself, which Rincewind has mostly tried not to think about.
People with beliefs are the worst. Make the clean up way harder for the rest of us.
[Leslie Knope. But as fun as a bloody revolution sounds, April's not really one for leading groups of kids. She could see how gross the whole thing could've been for the wizard.]
And this place's this place. Don't worry about the gossip you missed. It'll all happen again.
Depressingly accurate. [which is generally Rincewind's job to be, but he's glad April's willing to pick up the slack for him. Another kindness, between the wine and the food.]
Well, as long as I get a week or so to myself before then. [he twists his way further into the couch cushions, settling.] I'd say it's the least the universe owes me. Any of them.
...You're okay then? [not that those sorts of questions worry him, or anything. Of course.]
[April lets out a small huff as she pushes herself into a standing position. Totally using the couch to leverage herself up, messing with his settling just a tiny bit out of principle. ]
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[April bends her knees, bringing them up to her chest to wrap her arms loosely around, not even noticing one of the dogs dives in to replace her feet on the carpet, absorbing the bit of warmth she left.]
So're you. It's why you came back to the house, I guess. It's what makes our house...our house.
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He flinches, glancing down.]
I'm not - fucked up. [an awkward curse to get his tongue around.] I came back because... well, because...
[because this is the place he's made for himself, in this world. This fur-covered house, with its stocked liquor cabinet and oddball inhabitants. Rincewind likes it here. He feels welcomed here.
It's just that he also used to feel safe here. Maybe he'll get that back, eventually. He hopes he does.]
...It's my home.
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[ She turns her head to give him a small attempt at a half smile, the expression matching the total lack of bite or effort in her tone. There were levels of fucked up. Some just came more murdery than others. ]
Will's not gonna come for you, jerk.
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Well. That's not my fault. [but the flicker of a smile on April's face means he can tell she's not teasing him, so he holds back any further grumbles. At least on that note.
It's not like she doesn't have a point.]
I - know that. [mostly.] Just, it's not going to feel comfortable again. Not all at once.
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[It's a lie. She had the raccoons wash it, like she had since time began. But the point remained. Kind of.]
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[Rincewind pauses for breath, considers continuing his rant - and then just drowns himself in wine again. He'll need to find the bottle, at this rate.]
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[ Sorry, bro. Everyone here has a sob story and April mostly just cares about her own. She will manage to get up to get some more wine, though...so that she can share in the drinking. ]
What did he say? They liar. Was it sexy?
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No, gods. Why is it always sex with you?
[and, quickly, in case she attempts to give him an answer:]
It wasn't so much that he lied as it was that he wrote lies. Twoflower... sees the world through the most dangerously delusional eyes of anyone I've ever met. We can both look at the same run-down whorehouse or bar fight, and he'll call it "quaint" and want to have his picture taken in front of it.
[his look softens. There really was some strange appeal to the little idiot. Rincewind couldn't help but miss him, despite how bloody dangerous he was to Rincewind's health.]
...He wrote that I was I was a "Great Wizard" and made Ankh-Morpork sound like some amazing place to live. Apparently that's enough to inspire taking up pitchforks against centuries of oppression.
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[Great, sexy. Same difference. She was totally not on board with what he called a 'lie,' but whatever. Not the debate for the bloody. Maybe another night. When he was calling her the liar.]
You win?
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[Rincewind's expression darkened. He shook his head.]
They were little more than children. Literally. And they had this dreamy idea of how things would go, that was the real trouble. They bought into this grand thought that there's some nobility in dying for a cause. Hook, line, and sinker.
[But he admits, after a pause:]
I suppose we won though. Technically. A bunch of other things happened first, their "people's revolution" really had nothing to do with it, but - I suppose you could say it turned out for them. Er. I think. The last I knew I had a knife against my throat before I was pulled back here, so I can't say for sure how it ended.
[for them or himself, which Rincewind has mostly tried not to think about.
The wine is helping with that.]
...Anyway. Anything happen here?
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[Leslie Knope. But as fun as a bloody revolution sounds, April's not really one for leading groups of kids. She could see how gross the whole thing could've been for the wizard.]
And this place's this place. Don't worry about the gossip you missed. It'll all happen again.
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Well, as long as I get a week or so to myself before then. [he twists his way further into the couch cushions, settling.] I'd say it's the least the universe owes me. Any of them.
...You're okay then? [not that those sorts of questions worry him, or anything. Of course.]
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[April lets out a small huff as she pushes herself into a standing position. Totally using the couch to leverage herself up, messing with his settling just a tiny bit out of principle. ]
It's you jerks that keep me up at night.