marcato | (no subject)

[She disappointed. Far more than disappointed, as time stretches on and constricts her heart further. She'd have to figure something out for the night before she fell asleep here, leaned up against some tree, but that involves getting to her feet, and -- Oh?

...]

It's me, I swear to you. You have to stop thinking it's not, when we don't know how many more times this has to happen.

[But she's not really annoyed, as much as she chides him now that she's become less passive than she once was. It's him...! Oh, thank goodness.]

[The pause this time is significantly shorter. Three minutes.]

If you are who you say you are, meet me at my shop. Please.

[She would think he'd want that regardless, to do that whole ripping her spine out through her stomach thing, but she can keep that thought to herself. She isn't that much of a rebellious teen, yet.]

I will.

[It takes her a while, even if she's not nearly as sluggish as she is as a slime, but she knows the way there well enough that even when her eyes drift shut for several seconds from weariness, she's confident in her steps. Laptop carried at her side and sore feet dragging, Ray returns to the little shop filled with the sweet tick tick tick of dozens of watches. The closer she is... Her body may be tired, but there's a renewed spark of alertness on her face. She'd get to see him again.]

[He doesn't meet her outside of the shop, even though he's tempted. The walls here are built to protect him, built to squeeze the blood out of any living thing that means him harm. Rachel -- or someone who looks like Rachel -- could harm him. It would be very easy.

So he waits.

He opens the door when she arrives, his face an impassive wall of shattered glass. On the inside, he tries to figure out what this means. Is it a test? Does the Fog God intend to quickly snap her away once again, reminding him of where his true loyalties belong? Or is it a gift? A prize for remaining faithful?]

Rachel.

[His voice is hollow. He doesn't notice.]

It's good to see you again.

[The door opening snaps her attention up from where she had been looking forward, going over different scenarios of meeting him again in her mind. The anxious, muted giddiness jitters to a halt, but it's renewed almost instantly as she locks her sights on the familiar sharp, bright angles. It goes from her heart to her feet, urging them forward -- and again she stops, because whatever she expected, it wasn't...this. He doesn't sound happy to see her. He doesn't sound as if he would ever have waited for her. She's just Rachel -- no dear Rachel, no sweet Rachel, no... Well, the unspoken thought wasn't entirely accurate. It did sound like a dad addressing his daughter, it just wasn't the dad she'd come here to see. What was she supposed to do if this wasn't her daddy?

Her eyes and tone follow the dimming of her excitement.]

Is it?

[Her eyes have dimmed.

Good. This is better.

In his mind, excitement doesn't suit the girl standing in front of him. When he first met Rachel, she was muted in a way he found familiar. He didn't see her as Rachel, but rather himself as a child, her emotions trapped under a layer of heavy glass -- just like him. For the first time in his life, he wasn't interested in seeing someone break. He wanted her static. Unchanged.]

I never lie.

[And then he smiles, imperceptible in the motionless shattered glass that makes up his face, but more than audible in his voice.]

Dear Rachel. Sweet Rachel. Please come inside.

[He doesn't step forward, but instead extends his arms. Offering an embrace.]

[He never lies. He never lies, but he wasn't as infallible as he thought he was, not that she would point it out even if she wasn't exhausted and feeling the ache in both her heart and her feet. And for a moment, it hadn't seemed at all like it was good to see her...but then he does that thing he does, that thing she was only just starting to learn because it was infinitely more convenient to pretend to be okay and compliant than to ask after your serial killer friend and get distressed when they refused to answer. He was so much better at it than her. He could look happy.

She wants him to be happy. His happiness meant hers, and that along with the familiar words plies her feet from the ground and brings her forward into the shop without question.]

[Once she's there, once she's inside, he hugs her. It's a tight embrace, the perfect imitation of a father who loves his child. He's never felt love, but he knows what it's supposed to look like. He knows how to pretend.

He pulls back from the embrace to study her face.]

You're human again.

[Like himself when he returned. Was this a sign? Were they the same?]

Ah.

[It's a soft sound, almost something to be forgotten among the tick-tocking of clocks. The predictability alongside the feeling of arms tight around her make her sigh out the relief that hits like a violent wave. This... It had been so long, it may as well have never happened for her before. No mom or dad from back in that place that had turned hateful and hurtful, leaving her fond memories of a music box more than anything. Just this. Her perfect daddy.

Her free hand comes up, and while she wishes she were hesitant for fear of ruining his clothes, she just...needs this. With her laptop and her tired body, clinging to his shirt is her reciprocation. She submits readily to his inspection.]

...Yeah. I don't know why. Maybe because I wasn't a human or slime when I stopped being here last time. It's easier to travel, though...

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