[The plushie stares silently at him. Whether it's his to say or not, it doesn't really matter - she doesn't even know what the point of telling her is.]
Of course not. You're her protection, and she wants to be yours as well.
[Knowing what she knows now, Andrew also knows that she was the last openly blameable person responsible for Siffrin's conviction. Now that she's gone, it's more fraught, isn't it?]
Looking out for each other is how you have survived while others have not.
I won't deny that that has been the case. [ personal partner murdergame hell, indeed. ] But if had just come down to that, I would've asked her to move much sooner.
[ And probably try and kick people out, but that's neither here nor there. ]
What I mean to say is that she was greatly affected by your death. Given the amount of vitriol she gave to Cornelius when things came to light, it's clear that she greatly cares for you.
[ Unless he's misread the situation, which is possible. He's a lesbian, thinking's hard. ]
Was she that bothered? It's not as if she didn't know something was bound to happen to me.
[Andrew had not been shy. At least a half-dozen people know she thought it might happen - that, given its apparent inevitability, she had hoped the threat could at least be leveraged.
She'd ended up culled like a sick animal anyway, as much as she wanted to think that going out to face her killer gave the dignity of not being shot down in her villa bedroom like a dog in a cage.]
... Does she care for me? [The capybara hesitates. This isn't quite as sharp-edged as the previous question. She actually doesn't genuinely know if care is what either of them have for one another. She thinks Ayaka likely never trusted her.]
Are those thing mutually exclusive? Even when taking the context into consideration?
[ Ayaka had said something about how Andrew had seemed to be thinking, not long before the trial started. They had talked about whether they should say something, but, as things tend to do, it got away.
It didn't change what had happened. Andrew had still died because they didn't say anything. ]
I cannot truly speak for her, as it is not my place. [ which begs the question of why he said it to begin with, but shhhhh. ] But I would say so. Without question.
Then why'd you bring it up? [Maybe he can envision her surly, somewhat immature expression -- too childish for the grown woman she is but fitting of the child who never received love that she also is.
But she's just a capybara, so her expression remains impassive.
Maybe it's that she knows now that no one would step in to protect her, might have even reveled at her death, her life as easy to discard as paper - a sentiment the narration must be clear is fully her thoughts and hers alone, driving by her lonely, wounded heart.]
I've never had friends. I wasn't allowed around others all that often, and when I was I didn't want to be there.
Because I have an unfortunate habit of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, it seems. A curse from my deeds in life, it seems.
[ The image of a man in full armor talking to a stuffed capybara in a room full of clocks is an image unlike no other, but Richard doesn't really seem to notice the humor of it, as he takes a step closer to the pushie and kneels down closer to her as she talks.
It rings familiar, even if different circumstances. He'd never really had them, either. Not really. He was only ever looked at with envy at his talents or fear of what he would do unprovoked. ]
[She's pretty aware of the hilarity of the image and also with the weird boundaries of her capyabra-possessing existence.]
Ish's gambit the first week was more effective than I'd like to admit. [She sounds a little rueful but also pensive.] Of course, I didn't take stock of what he was really doing at the time.
I wonder... should I have allowed myself to care for even one of you?
[Maybe she does... want to be here, that is. And maybe she hates that.]
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bellelurette pc: andrew
no subject
Of course not. You're her protection, and she wants to be yours as well.
[Knowing what she knows now, Andrew also knows that she was the last openly blameable person responsible for Siffrin's conviction. Now that she's gone, it's more fraught, isn't it?]
Looking out for each other is how you have survived while others have not.
no subject
[ And probably try and kick people out, but that's neither here nor there. ]
What I mean to say is that she was greatly affected by your death. Given the amount of vitriol she gave to Cornelius when things came to light, it's clear that she greatly cares for you.
[ Unless he's misread the situation, which is possible. He's a lesbian, thinking's hard. ]
no subject
[Andrew had not been shy. At least a half-dozen people know she thought it might happen - that, given its apparent inevitability, she had hoped the threat could at least be leveraged.
She'd ended up culled like a sick animal anyway, as much as she wanted to think that going out to face her killer gave the dignity of not being shot down in her villa bedroom like a dog in a cage.]
... Does she care for me? [The capybara hesitates. This isn't quite as sharp-edged as the previous question. She actually doesn't genuinely know if care is what either of them have for one another. She thinks Ayaka likely never trusted her.]
no subject
[ Ayaka had said something about how Andrew had seemed to be thinking, not long before the trial started. They had talked about whether they should say something, but, as things tend to do, it got away.
It didn't change what had happened. Andrew had still died because they didn't say anything. ]
I cannot truly speak for her, as it is not my place. [ which begs the question of why he said it to begin with, but shhhhh. ] But I would say so. Without question.
no subject
But she's just a capybara, so her expression remains impassive.
Maybe it's that she knows now that no one would step in to protect her, might have even reveled at her death, her life as easy to discard as paper - a sentiment the narration must be clear is fully her thoughts and hers alone, driving by her lonely, wounded heart.]
I've never had friends. I wasn't allowed around others all that often, and when I was I didn't want to be there.
no subject
[ The image of a man in full armor talking to a stuffed capybara in a room full of clocks is an image unlike no other, but Richard doesn't really seem to notice the humor of it, as he takes a step closer to the pushie and kneels down closer to her as she talks.
It rings familiar, even if different circumstances. He'd never really had them, either. Not really. He was only ever looked at with envy at his talents or fear of what he would do unprovoked. ]
Do you want to be here?
no subject
[She's pretty aware of the hilarity of the image and also with the weird boundaries of her capyabra-possessing existence.]
Ish's gambit the first week was more effective than I'd like to admit. [She sounds a little rueful but also pensive.] Of course, I didn't take stock of what he was really doing at the time.
I wonder... should I have allowed myself to care for even one of you?
[Maybe she does... want to be here, that is. And maybe she hates that.]