herr_bookman | OOM: Everything will always be all right

"No," he says, and sips his water. "It's..."

Well, Elea, he can't really tell you. True to form, he hasn't eaten any of it.

Upon hearing Rabastan's reply, though, Autor chalks this up as one of the most awkward conversations he's ever had in his life. It might even surpass the first chat he had with Karkat, or even the most recent one with Loheng--no. That was worth squirming over, but because it was also painful, too.

He has to take a sip of water at that. Eventually, he regards Elea with raised brows. Augh! She's like a kindergarten teacher!

Then he turns to the man of the hour. "Honestly, Rabastan, I don't recognize you at all. Does the climate of Vane disagree with you? It seems to have reduced your spine to jelly and render you incapable of answering a simple yes or no question."

Autor's getting seriously tired of everyone addressing everyone else in the third person. He's a music student, not a dancer.

Oh like you're one to talk when it comes to evasive answers to direct questions Autor.

Nor are you offering your own input on being anyone's friend here.

Rabastan looks like he might rise to the bait, but stops.

And begins poking his own food. He's really not in the mood for bantering right now.

I guess he doesn't want me for a friend after all.

That observation would've been a relief a month ago, but not now.

Edited 2013-03-28 10:28 (UTC)

Rather than poking his own food in response, Autor pokes the man.

"What happened?" he asks, gently jabbing him in the arm with the fork tines. "All the fire has gone out of you."

Autor doesn't know quite why Rabastan has gone comatose, but he has a theory. And like all his theories, he wishes to test it immediately.

He flicks a glance over to Elea, the unwitting catalyst to all of this. "You're very forward, aren't you? One hour ago you didn't know my name or anything about me, and now you're trying to get us to absolve each other of grievances which you have no understanding of, and get us to profess friendship, besides!" he huffs. Then he folds his arms, slouching. "If you're not aware of the fact that I'll bring more trouble to him than I'm worth, then I don't know what to do with you."

Not like he had an idea in the first place.

"I care about him and want the best for him, that's why.

"And I was hoping you two would solve it, but it appears that whatever is between you, it's more than just a simple prank gone wrong. Especially since you're so insistent upon provoking him into further bad behaviour."

Pause. She feels Autor is being rude and unnecessarily belligerent. To both of them.

And waves over their waiter.

"How much?"

She gives him the money when he tells her.

"Since you don't seem too keen on my company Autor I'll take my leave here, and you two can deal with it by yourselves in my absence."

Autor opens his mouth to reply, but claps it shut when she calls over the waiter. He didn't intend to have her pay for his share of the food; now he owes her a debt--for dragging him out here in the first place. Confound that woman.

He swings his gaze over to Rabastan. "She treats you gently and annoys me. I can see why you like her."

The boy frowns. "But you're afraid to say anything around her, and your reaction to her leaving--and my poking at her--is delayed. What happened to you?" Autor asks again, quieter this time.

"I'm not afraid to say things to her. If there's one thing we're not short on it's conversation."

He scrubs his face with his hands.

"Why did you do that? Elea was being nice to you. Thought only of what you might have needed. Asked for nothing from you in return. A person who was likely a stranger to you until today. And you all but slap her in the face for it.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to people? Do you never stop to think of how it might be taken, or how it can go wrong when you do act like this?

"Did it ever occur to you that if you changed your approach to people, they'd be nice back? Now I have to explain things to her, and I know she'll want one when I see her later tonight."

Edited 2013-03-28 11:17 (UTC)

Do you never stop to think of how it might be taken, or how it can go wrong when you do act like this?

Autor sucks a breath in through his teeth. Panic wraps its spiked tendrils around his heart, but then he leans back and closes his eyes, recovering the detached veneer he always has.

"She is nice to me," he says, lacing his fingers together across his chest. "Very nice. But there's a problem with nice people, and that's when they decide that they have a hammer and you're a bent nail. 'I can solve that problem,' they say. 'I have a hammer!'"

He shakes his head, and opens his eyes. "And I'm sure she's very good at being nice, and wielding her hammers. But there are some of us who prefer to remain as we are."

He twists his lips. "I would have left you alone in that shop. Maybe bantered a bit, and left, but here we are now, at dinner, dancing around the topic of are we friends or are we enemies."

Then, after a moment: "Congratulations on your new job."

He does sound like he means that.

"Elea would have left things as they are between us were it not for your smile and my upset.

"But you did smile and I did get upset. And if she thinks it's because of her, she's going to want to become involved, to put an end to it."

He sighs.

"Well. She's learned her lesson about being nice to people like you. I doubt you'll get another chance from her without you giving her an apology for your behaviour first. And even then I doubt she'll try it again."

Yes, she'll be nice. But it will not be the nice she was before.

"Thank you." Pause. "Autor, I would like to be your friend. Elea's right. I don't have many here. Or at Milliways, to be honest. But given the way you launch into your usual mode of communication with me I can't tell if you're just being friendly in your own fashion, or if you're antagonising me because you really do derive a sick sense of satisfaction from making me angry."

"Did you really think I'd react to her meddling in any other way than I did? I'm not very kind to people," and here he pauses to look away and cup his chin in his hand, "who think they know what's best for me and act on it immediately under the guise of helpfulness."

Staring at the wall, the boy dithers for a moment. "She was acting in your best interests, not mine, which makes sense. But if that's the case, I wish she would have left me out of it to begin with. I'm not sorry she's gone, necessarily. But I am sorry for the manner in which she left, and how it seems to have twisted you up some."

At Rabastan's declaration, he sits up ramrod straight. "Wait, really? Why?" he asks, genuinely bewildered and not a little suspicious. "You've already pointed out that I upset you by default. 'I don't have many' is not a good reason to seek a person like me out."

"Privacy" is the reason Rabastan gives when he casts a spell placing a sound block around their table.

Then he turns to Autor with a mixed expression on his face.

"Are you in any way even capable of admitting when you've done wrong? At all? Even a little bit?"

It's a mixture of anger, disappointment and even pity.

"You keep making it out that the one person who's at fault in this entire fuck-up between you and I is Elea. Not you. Not me. Elea."

He closes his eyes for a moment.

"You treat her niceness to you, her concern for us as if it was some great offence to you. That this is some inconvenience thrust upon you by some meddling do-gooder.

"It's like your thinking is 'It's Elea's fault that I had to address my reasons for being angry with Rabastan'. 'It's Elea's fault I'm sitting in a nice place to eat, and on her coin'. 'It's Elea's fault for ... everything that's happened today'

"Where are you in this Autor? The party who's been wronged, if I'm to go by how even now you won't admit that you made a massive error in judgement back at Gideon's shop."

He shakes his head.

"You're sorry for how she left. You're sorry for how this upsets me. You're not sorry at all for your actions before this point. At all.

"I'm surprised you aren't blaming me for seriously misjudging your actions earlier and thinking that Elea was ready to move on, and that you somehow was a reminder to her that she could find someone better than me who suits her.

"And I'm sorry that I did think that of you and of her. That I should not be so insecure."

He wipes his face with his wand hand.

"No, Autor. I'm not considering you as a friend because I don't have many. I'm considering you as a friend because if I'm going to be communicating with you, that it would be a good idea to do it under the banner of friendship.

"And even here you won't admit you do wrong. Only tell me that I have no reason to seek you out, with your only admission being that you're disagreeable. Not that your disagreeableness causes people who could've been your best friends to come to wish they'd never spoken with you."

Again the mixed expression.

"When are you going to start owning your responsibilities for all the times you screw up? When?"

Edited 2013-03-29 08:23 (UTC)

Autor doesn't like that expression. The anger, he can handle; that's almost expected. The disappointment chafes a bit, but the pity...

Well, the pity is enraging. But at least Rabastan seems to be back to his normal nagging self. Small comforts.

"I am not blaming Elea for our situation," he says patiently. Or as patiently as he can be, anyway. "But I am calling her out for trying to force the issue when she doesn't even know me, or my relation to you. If I had said, 'any friendship between us will take considerable work and can't happen immediately, please back off,' you would have poked holes in that, too."

Then he slaps some silver on the table. More than enough to cover his share, with tip. "I will not allow her to cover my dinner, either," he says, wrinkling his nose, as if the very idea is abhorrent.

"And yes, I am very annoyed with you for thinking... whatever you did about me and her. If she's as wonderful as you tell me she is--and I believe you, especially now that I've met her--then you need to have a little faith in her. I smiled to provoke you, but not like that," he says, and draws a breath before continuing. "But thank you, for acknowledging all of that, and I'm sorry for the way it set you off."

He sighs and pokes at his food. "If you really wanted to be friends, why didn't you seek me out on your own initiative? You were nearly laconic when she was around; is my impression that you yourself were uncomfortable speaking an incorrect one?" he asks, and sets his jaw.

Now it's his turn to look disappointed, though he doesn't know it. "I don't know anything about friendship. Hardly anything at all. But 'I don't have many' and 'because I have to talk to you' don't sound like the foundations for a lasting relationship."

The boy clenches his fists and glares at the man. "You are such a simpleton, Rabastan Lestrange. If you weren't my friend, I wouldn't have pranked you."

All that said, he takes an angry first bite of his food. He has been curious about these truffles all evening.

"Then why the fuck didn't you say that when you had the opportunity to do so? Several opportunities. Is 'thanks but no thanks' so hard for you to say?"

He sighs.

"Well, like I said: she won't try that again, so you can stop being annoyed over it."

Picks at his own food.

"And apology accepted. But. Tell me Autor. You've been poking about the history books haven't you. You tell me why someone like myself should worry about losing someone special. If my faith in her isn't as strong as it should be, then why would it be so?"

It's not being consumed at the moment.

"Autor, you happened upon me that first time. Not the other way around. So I can't really answer you as to why I didn't, other than to say that it's probably for the same reason I don't seek others out, and I'm sure those history books you've read have an answer for that too.

"But this isn't a case of 'have to'. I don't 'have to' here. Because there is no 'have to'. This is 'I want to'. I want to talk to you. I want to be friends with you. I want to know that you can trust me and that I can trust you.

"As for pranks, well. Elea teases me. A lot. So do her friends. But they don't dump a bucket of ice cubes on me when I'm sleeping, and I am very sorry for what I did to you in retaliation. You could've been hurt badly. I have magic. You don't. Defending yourself against a magic-user is almost impossible even if you've memorised all the spells he can do.

"And I don't know why you didn't go to security or Mia about it when you could have. You've got good reason to."

"Because it seemed really important to you that I come here," he mutters, and takes another bite. The truffles are delicious. Really.

He's not going to be able to finish them tonight. "Perhaps I misjudged that. Eat your damn food. Elea paid for it already; you better not let it go to waste."

Autor looks away and cups his chin in his hand, thinking. He sits, motionless, for a long, long while.

Eventually, he swings his heavy head around to stare at Rabastan again. "Yes. I know everything," he says softly, "both from reading the books and speaking to you in person."

Then he glances away. "And I haven't gone to Mia because you were just as frightened as I was, and I figured we'd settle it all eventually. Or not; sometimes being enemies is easier than being friends."

Autor stares at his hands. "Why do you want to talk to me? To trust me? Haven't I already proven that I'm not worth the effort?"

"So now it's your turn to nag at me."

He seems to be laughing, but silently.

"It was important to me, and contrary to what you might think, you are worth the effort. No matter what you might say or think, you are always worth the effort.

"You're not a bad person. Not really. Maybe you don't always know how to be a good person, but I think you are. I know bad people. I've known bad people. You're not like them.

"And I was scared, yes. But. Autor. Milliways is supposed to be a safe place for everyone. And for many years it was my sanctuary before I came here. You should never be given a reason to think or believe that you're never safe there. Not by anyone. By the people you don't know, or the people you do.

"Don't ever let 'we'll work it out' be the reason not to act."

Autor wrinkles his nose in a fairly impressive manner.

"My word," the boy says, nearly trembling with fury. He shakes his head and clutches his fork. "I knew you were sentimental, but not this much! Just... just go stuff yourself, would you? And for pity's sake, don't you dare tell me when I can and cannot act!"

He shovels another bite of food in his mouth. Damn, but these truffles are delicious.

It's pretty funny, watching Autor hop with anger. Or whatever it is Autor's hopping with.

"I'm not telling I'm advising. Take it as you will. You always do."

Pause.

"I am glad we're talking again though, whatever you might make of that too."

The Wizard and the Hopping Pot?

"Tch," Autor says. "We've used too many words in this conversation already. Eat your food; as long as your mouth is full, you won't be speaking."

It's only after he says the words does he feel a pang of regret: Lohengrin had said the same to Autor, so very long ago. Specifically after Autor had congratulated the Knight on his wedding.

"A young man who spends most of his days in the library is telling me we've used too many words tonight?"

He is Highly Amused.

"I guess you, as a bibliophile, would know things like this." Pause. "What do you think of them? Your truffles?"

Autor bristles and takes another bite. "If we were in the library, I would have told you to shut up a long time ago," he says loftily. "And there's a difference between reading words and speaking them: one wears on me and the other doesn't."

Thanks for suddenly reminding him of how tired he is, Rabastan. Gosh.

At the otter-man's inquiry into the quality of Autor's food, the boy smiles. Its wistful, almost fond. "They're better than I thought they'd be," he says shyly, thinking of bakers that rise with the sun and magical princesses on a hunt.

Then he snaps to focus. "I'd ask you how your food is, but you haven't eaten any of it."

Edited 2013-03-29 23:41 (UTC)

"Of course there is. Of course you would."

No, he doesn't believe you. Not really.

"And when did you start caring that I eat anything? No, don't tell me I'm 'wasting food'. It's a little more than just simple waste."

Has Autor started to give a damn?

"Stop being so condescending," Autor says. He is so done with this conversation. So done.

He scribbles down a quick, "I apologize," on a napkin and passes it over. "Here. This should help with whatever explanation you have to give to Elea."

Now to flag down a waiter and ask for a box...

"Wouldn't you know all about condescension..," he mutters loud enough for Autor to hear.

"I'll make sure she gets this."

I don't think she'll be angry with you, but I do think she will be disappointed.

"You know, you can visit me while you're staying here. The house won't be hard to find."

Truth is, he doesn't mind the condescension, or the banter. He's just plum tuckered out. Making nice is tough.

"Maybe," he says, standing. And now he dithers for a bit, plucking at his sleeve. He doesn't do goodbyes. But is one needed in this case? What on moon do I say?

Eventually, he settles for a firm nod. "Rabastan."

Edited 2013-03-30 01:54 (UTC)

The smile Autor gets is full of good humour.

"That's the name my parents gave me, yes."

He fishes out his wallet where the picture of his home is kept. And shows it to Autor.

People today would recognise it as a replica of the famous "Falling Water" home, but Rabastan has no idea of how well-known it is. He picked it out because he liked it.

"Stop by whenever you wish. I don't have much in terms of books, but there might be something for you to read while you're there."

From tears to that. "Hmph! I don't understand you at all," Autor says, in a manner less aggrieved than he'd like.

He glances over the picture of Rabastan's home and raises a brow. "Hm. That's rather impressive," he says, clearly wondering whether or not the home market in Vane is deflated, and what Rabastan's finances are like, given that he needed a job, and...

"You'd better get some more books," he says, and pops his little nose in the air. "Those are good for you."

OOM: Everything will always be all right

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