deercountry | june catch-all

Entry tags:

june catch-all

Who: viktor and others, open to all with some closed prompts in comments
What: june catch-all, some tdm prompts
When: june
Where: various

content warning; terminal illness, arcane season 1 spoilers

misc lab stuff and various fruits.

[viktor's lab in the willful machine is usually left unlocked when he's working inside. friends or acquaintances have likely been told they're welcome to stop by if they like, either to say hello or to get help with whatever a vaguely sketchy lab could handle. of course someone he doesn't know can just walk in too or knock. maybe there's a sudden downpour and that ajar door is tempting? go for it.

the lab has been slowly filling with all sorts of nonsense on the various tables- lasers! tasers! some weird machine hooked up to a blood gem? it is not unlikely to be walking by and hear some minor booming noise and either a curse in czech or a satisfied 'a-ha!' feel free to investigate.

this month there's something else too, a bowl full of fruit. all the fruits mentioned in the tdm in fact, there to be tested on though it looks more like they're just for guests if people are unaware there's some weird shit going on.]

Just a moment, make yourself at home. [he might say to guest. that would include eating some fruit, right? enjoy. probably not the raw lemon though, that's weird.]

[ooc; if you want to memshare i am game, my only hard limit on memories is no suicide stuff please. self sacrifice is fine! feel free to ask to make sure one is okay. if you'd like a viktor memory let me know any hard limits and what sort of memory you might prefer!]

gaze and time loops.

[having lungs mostly working for the moment is pretty great, in viktor's humble opinion. it means walking around the trench doesn't come with the risk of coughing up blood and attracting beasts and generally having a bad time, along with added perks like not getting so easily winded and going for longer. it also means he finds himself out longer than he usually would, which maybe isn't the best, as it turns out.

for example, making his way home through gaze and hearing the chilling cry of a beast, sighing and trying to make his way around what turns out to be the wrong corner. maybe that's where he sees your character before the snarling of a too close beast starts in earnest.

and then snap! they're both back about an hour, where they passed on the street. the look viktor gives is somewhere between resigned and 'fuck this, actually.'] There is a term for this. 'One of those days,' I think.

[ooc; if you'd like to wildcard or do something else you can pm me here or find me at

dichotomy]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ah, that's nice, he could stay here and focus on Viktor's fingers in his hair for a few hours and not have any other thoughts at all, that would be excellent. Instead he simply sits there for a few long beats, before turning his head with a sort of half-hearted puff of a laugh; no, he always appreciates Viktor's bluntness, and he's right. Just give Palamedes more time to sync thought with reality, he'll get there.]

I was thinking about you. [Well-] Us. Don't get me wrong; I didn't want to linger. But I thought, 'Viktor has been standing there for a while,' and that... helped.

[A little bemused, like, is that weird? Does that seem off, in the face of a boat full of murder? Hmm. He shifts to slouch more comfortably against Viktor, head pressed over his heart, reaching across to thread their fingers together and linger on the ring again, a moment.

He sighs.] And I know. But the leaving is... something.

[that is- well. it makes viktor kiss into his hair again, staying there and closing his eyes against a swell of emotion. things like how much he loves pal, and how that is returned, and how it's simple but still profound. hits him when he least expects it.

when he pulls his head back his hand returns to pal's hair.] I am glad it did. I am very, deeply and selfishly glad it had you turning away from that.

[even if he only vaguely understands 'that.'

the ring is a lot like pal's- it doesn't spin but he fashioned it closely regardless, out of what pal picked out. it has taken some getting used to but sometimes he looks over at it and it brightens something in him, damningly so.]

It is something. [he curls his fingers around pal's hand.] You seemed... it is hard to say. A breaking point, maybe.

[That gets him to laugh again, a more solid sound this time - selfishly, mm, is that the word to use right now? If Palamedes is supposed to be thinking about himself first this time, unselfishly, and Viktor is thinking of him - surely neither of them is being selfish. Or if it is, it isn't as if it compares to the selfishness of killing a boatload of people, so—

Well, he'd rather be here than there, and Viktor is a large part of that. Simple facts. He tangles his fingers into Viktor's and hums, squeezing lightly. A breaking point--]

Do you think so? You know me best.

[A true thing, actually, one he's thought before in purely saccharine terms and never put into proper words. Only Camilla would have him beat, and until she comes out of the sea... well. Anyway.]

I think I had some questions answered in the exact ways I'd hoped they wouldn't be.

[viktor snorts softly at that laugh, running his thumb along pal's as he considers. a breaking point, it did seem the most concise way of putting it. after a beat he says,] For a long time it feels there has been a pressure, in the neutrality you give certain matters, in how you try to offer people the tools to help themselves but, perhaps, see those tools thrown aside for easier paths.

I do not know, I have simply noticed a strain, I suppose. [he settles back a little against the couch, ready to say more when there's a knock. he untangles with a kiss to pal's forehead like an apology, using rio rather than his cane to get to the door.

abigail brushes off him trying to take the tray, moving in to place it on the low table near the couch, chipped teacups and some sort of little cakes she points at pal then viktor and says 'eat, the plate best be cleaned,' before she is off with the sort of oath on a woman raised by fishermen would say under her breath.

viktor returns, amused despite himself, more that abigail maybe has started taking to pal. he settles beside him, pressed up close again.]

[Ah - and he's left to think about his egregious attempts at neutrality, the strain, while Viktor tries (and fails, damn) to cut Abigail off at the door. He manages to give her a grateful smile, at least, before she's turned and left them alone again, and he's quick to lean back into Viktor much the same as before. Maybe a touch less desperate; but close.]

No; you're probably right. I can't see past my own nose, I know.

[He's tried to remain neutral? To not spread gossip (outside of to Viktor, which, come on, of course), to offer advice and aid without pushing. No one has ever learned best by being pressured into picking one person's viewpoint over another, and yet.

Should he have? Pushed. He doesn't know. It wasn't his place.

He makes an aggravated kind of grunt and reaches for a crummy little teacup, currently the most beautiful teacup he's ever seen because it's here, and not on that goddamn boat.]

You could say I'm figuring out with whom I have irreconcilable differences in the coming... however long it takes. [huff!] That's still too neutral, isn't it?

I do not think it is so simple, you would be a terrible Master Warden if so. [he wraps an arm around pal's waist, ignoring their shared vague dampness from the rain as he considers.] You do not jump to conclusions, perhaps. It is a good trait typically.

[he watches the steam from the teacup, more so pal's hands (and the Ring, which still sends a thrill through him, ridiculous) as they handle it.

rio settles at their feet with a little huff not unlike pal's and viktor rests his chin on pal's shoulder as he answers, maybe bluntly,] It is. The eh, the not jumping to conclusions. Sometimes you must make decisions based on incomplete data, as you well know.

Harder in interpersonal relationships, of course. [he reaches over to tap pal's ring, making it spin with a faintly satisfied smile.] I suppose it depends on why you have been neutral. I have always assumed it was partially for safety.

I make decisions, [he mutters, an objection without any heat in it. He doesn't stand around with his fingers in his ears doing nothing, which is clearly the only other option, hm. Still! Decisions are made, and regularly, too.]

I don't make decisions for other people. For my own part in... being involved with that house, I assumed I could simply stop coming around and my presence wouldn't be missed. [By That Guy, he doesn't specify; it's implied.] You have to understand: when I woke up here the second time, five weeks had passed— in the space of my untimely demise, the dynamics shifted. They seemed to be faring better, despite my misgivings; I wasn't about to tell a handful of upset teenagers that they should move out of a comfortable home because I said so.

[Or even with good reason; he'd had this argument with himself already, when first speaking to Paul again, looking at him thriving and no longer living in literal squatter conditions— had let Harrow's attachment and Gideon's involvement slide as manageable from the inside, without a second control freak in the mix.

Finally, he remembers to sip the tea. Hmm.]

I don't honestly care what the Emperor thinks of me, personally. But I'm not fool enough to poke the bear, so I kept my mouth shut. He could hardly stand you knowing something so unimportant to anyone else in this place who didn't already know— [He shakes his head.] Of course there was an eye for safety in it. If anyone touches you, all prior stalemates are over. As for the others, I hadn't intended to...

[Force their hands? Push them into the arms of Papa God who is Nice Now, Really? Be a hypocrite? There are options.]

Well, it's gone sideways now. If you'd like a third reason, I really could not be bothered inviting the whole "group chat" [he does the quotes, around the teacup] into my business.

I suppose that is what I mean. You watched the situation, incomplete data. Coming back to them in a seemingly better state than you would have assumed required further consideration, yes?

[which, frankly, he doesn't think was the wrong move regardless.

he listens though, rolls his eyes at a certain, obvious part about unimportant knowledge and the reaction to it. a snort at the finale.]

What happened exactly? We do not need to speak of it now, if you wish, but it is hard to say if they are misguided or monstrous at his side.

[which makes a difference.] I can say it seems you have grown beyond the negligible comforts of home and it's familiarity in ways they have not.

Have I? Does that mean you'll quit hassling me about the absurd monochrome at every opportunity? I think this is your shirt.

[It's whatever he grabbed from the pile of Clean Laundry, but upon further inspection, this looks like it was once a grey t-shirt with a funny screenprint on it, before someone who doesn't know how to do laundry (Palamedes) was asked to do laundry (oopsie). He plucks at the front of it, left-handed— ah, and the ring is fairly beyond the familiarity of home, too. Truly, this is growth.

He sips the tea again, settling back in close to think about... What Happened.]

The Emperor wanted to, I suppose, punch a hole in the universe to get at the River. He asked them to capture and murder a crew of Trench pirates. [sssssip.] Paul was... making a case, I think, when Ortus pushed me over the side.

[Which they could assume means maybe murder didn't happen, but:] That was before the storm started. I imagine he got his free swing in before Marianna responded.

Absolutely not. You make such a good face every time I do. Right here- [ah saccharine and gross, he presses a kiss to pal's forehead, where it may or may not scrunch when told about his grey crimes.] The furrow. It is excellent.

And the shirt looks good on you. [the moment of levity is nice, and it's true.

he finally picks his own tea cup up, leaning over pal to do so and careful not to spill it. it's more to warm his hands as he listens, a grimace and-] Gods above, this is exactly the kind of situation I feared when I spoke with Ortus about him. You do not leash a man used to power and consuming life to get it and expect him not to pull some abhorrent nonsense like this.

[he waves a hand, like blowing the jod stink away, refocusing.] I see. So, I have no doubt Ortus was against this, his actions speak for him as much as his character. It is the rest I cannot say.

[another crack of thunder, windows rattling. yeah. murder happened.] I think I see, the 'breaking point,' as it were. [he glances over.] Palamedes, whatever you wish to do now I support you. No careful dissection of the matter needed, it is as simple as that.

[Oh, he is furrowing. To be called out on his grey crimes, in the face of Viktor's own t-shirt? How could he. Thanks, but how could he.]

Hm, unless he was hoping I would drown. [Haha, no, not even absurd enough to be a joke, so he instantly follows that up with,] I owe him a great deal, obviously. What do you give someone for saving your life? A 'greeting card'?

[That's not a bit, he's serious; he would like to show Ortus his thanks and maybe also go over there just to see if Ortus is alright? That shed is truly... well. The sort of squatter conditions he was glad to see Paul leave, so.

Pencil it in. He hums over his next sip of tea, wondering - but no, Viktor is right, what happened on that boat was definitely something of a last straw for fussing around "neutrally." Viktor offers him his unconditional support and Palamedes feels some new shade of madly in love over that, ah, saccharine, but more than that: simple, no dissection needed. No this side or that side or prodding him to spill the information he's collected for so and so's advantage...]

I want to finish my tea, [he says, after a moment, not flippantly.] And then I want to have one of those cakes, to earn Abigail's elusive favor. Let's stay here for a few days, if we can; admittedly, much earlier than planned.

[viktor looks incredibly pleased at the furrowing, pal is just rewarding him at this point. he takes a sip of his tea and makes a face, mostly because he didn't bother putting anything in it but still.]

Fruit basket. [instant answer. of all the shit people sent the lab in thanks or attention grabbing those were viktor's favorite, is why.] Sometimes they cut the fruit to look like flowers, put them on sticks.

[light heartedness aside he offers,] Or help finding a new place to live. I very much hope he will move away from that place now.

[he puts the tea back on the tray, resting his head on pal's shoulder as he considers this list. a good one, time to let this all settle and stay away from gaze and the fall out.] I'll ask Allen, then fill him in on the basics. The beasts will likely be riled by all this. [a sigh] It will be pleasant though. Like eh, like a vacation.

[half joke half not. hot nerd summer.]

That sounds... whimsical. Do we have to cut the fruit ourselves?

[Palamedes could make some really cool and accurate organ-shaped fruit pieces, but probably better to leave that to a- professional? Professional fruit-cutter? It cannot be stated enough that he's never heard of this concept and finds it absolutely bonkers, but in a cute and fun way, at least. A fruit basket...]

Let's bring him a basket of fruit with a picture of a house inside; subtlety is key.

[Ha ha. Maybe consider the house picture though. That's for later; for now, mm - the beasts are certainly already riled in the ocean, that's for sure. He believes it will spread, and with plenty locals already seeming... off, more corruption-prone, everyone here is going to have a lot to contend with, huh.

He says, in his patented 'I know you've probably guessed this already, buuuut' tone:] I've never been on a vacation.

Hm... probably? Unless someone offers gift baskets in the Trench. [thoughtful. he wouldn't be shocked either way, honestly, the trench is like that. he does kind of hope pal has to do this because the idea of what he'll make is delightful.

not that viktor won't help. he is in ortus' death for sparing pal this and potentially saving his life.]

Oh, very subtle. How did that get there? Well while we're on the subject... [he says as he reaches over to grab one of the small cakes and offering it to pal. he said he wanted one, see.

it would be very easy to dwell on a lot of things- like how the windows rattle dangerously, or corruption levels including pal's, etc. much better to huff a soft laugh for the moment, at the shock of pal never having been on vacation. wow. incredible surprise.

and immediately on his List. maybe one day, he thinks, they can go somewhere nice. maybe.] I'm not sure I have either, to be fair. Picture this, taking time off work willingly to lounge about for several days, doing only things you like- that are not work related, that is.

[he'd make a joke about it often being on the beach but. well. too soon.]

I'll learn to make flower shapes, if I must. The work is never finished.

[So world-weary, this young necromancer. No, he's going to make skull shapes and anatomically correct hearts and livers and so on, it'll be great. If they're running low on fruit, the skull can even be jawless! Tada!

All very subtle, indeed. He takes the little cake and immediately questions his profession to want to eat this, hm, actually— no, no. He'll nibble. He's nibbling.]

So no lasers, either? [If they're both banned from work and work-adjacent things, on this vacation... Seems like a buzzkill, actually, but the concept of sitting around stress-free for several days itself is fairly appealing right now.

He has eaten a whole corner of the little cake. He's really into vacations.]

We could work on the book. I'll craft an intricate series of plot twists, and you can keep me honest about how many actually make sense.

[And when he gets in his head and wonders if he should go back to get mired in Empire business, but that's a downer.]

I very much look forward to seeing this attempt. [and probably supervising, he isn't sure how much pal knows about a. fruit and b. flowers.] Preferably with fruit we already know is safe.

[wow a whole nibble. viktor has another moment of gay, which is mostly watching him with his quirks, finding at endearing, kissing pal's shoulder again to press back the unpleasant feeling of how this could have ended with pal's corpse washing up on shore.

and stays there just for a moment, before huffing a soft sound against pal's shoulder.] No lasers... if I must. I will make that sacrifice for you.

[he might even like it, as it turns out. he liked when they took the day off, he likes doing non-work related things with pal beside him. who is this man.]

We could. I admit I would very much like to know what happens to our two heroes in the end.

You'll have to help me. [He knows almost nothing about flowers, or fruit besides the fruit that's been to their kitchen, which, well. Ahem. He wiggles the tiny cake some, for emphasis,] I'm highly experienced in drawing up 'thank-you cards,' though; give me a few bits of differently-shaded paper and wait until I get going. He'll treasure it.

[Ideally, if he's alive, if he's in the headspace to receive an insane fruit basket and a greeting card made of various types of grey cardstock and black marker. Palamedes will put his hopes into the fruit basket, and wait for Ortus to get back to Viktor's message, and force himself not to think about the rest until he really must.

As such, to think about more pleasant things, he cups Viktor's jaw with his free hand and turns his head to kiss the top of his head, lingering there a moment. This - the scent of Viktor's hair undercut with the barest hint of salty sea breeze, from how long he was out there waiting, already fading - this is what Palamedes needs.

And a vacation.]

I'll put some lasers into the book. And, [welllll,] I can think of a few things our heroes would get up to in their free time. Not if you ever want Allen or the others to read the whole thing, though.

[like, they can just admit these cool heist characters are themselves, but super good at action, right. all kinds of actions. Palamedes is not going to write self-insert smut in this book, he's promising.]

Will all the paper be shades of grey? [has your number, pal.] But yes Palamedes, I will help you cut fruit into flowers and watch you make an expert card.

[gladly, as it turns out.

viktor presses a palm to pal's chest, almost like he's chasing a heart beat of feeling out the soft rise and fall of his breath. closes his eyes too, a faint quirk of his lips to certain implications.] Spare Allen that. You'll have to keep the books away from some of those ideas.

[but with that he shifts, taking what's left of the cake from pal's hand to put aside, the teacup too if he needs to, shifting to his knees to loom over him. for a kiss in this case, which tastes pleasantly like the sweet edge of the cake and not of salt water or blood or any number of far more unpleasant things.

hands to pal's jaw, one kiss then another, a pause to say,] I would say you haven't the slightest idea how glad I am that you are okay but- [another kiss, cutting himself off. hm.] You are quite sentimental. And handsome with your glasses off, though I think I prefer them.

[another kiss, this one a little deeper, sharp edged with that lingering tension, released with a sigh.] Thank you for making it back to me.

It might. [Absolutely.] Thank you. If you'd like an extended author's special edition, I'm apparently taking some time off work to scribble it all down.

[The secret Nasty Edition, for Viktor's eyes only. Thank god they're both twigs or he'd have to use the word 'globular,' actually and for real. They've been spared that much.

Viktor taking his snacks away gets a brief murmured protest out of him, mostly along the lines of how he was actually eating that and now Viktor is definitely going to bother him about finishing it later, please— but he shifts his attention up, head leaned back on the back of the couch to look up at the only slightly fuzzy shape of Viktor hovering over him. Mm.

He presses up into each kiss with less frantic energy than he had back in the bunker, but the near-death anxiety ekes back in when Viktor circles back to talking about it, anyway. Palamedes reaches for him low, one hand on his hip and the other at the back of his thigh, grip firm and laced through with that lingering fear. It was barely an hour ago that he was in the water? Rough, to think about.]

I'm very sentimental, [he says, leaning his head against Viktor's and closing his eyes for a moment, to get sentimental and linger on the shape of Viktor's relief, gentle hands and eager mouth still shadowed by the anxiety Palamedes can pair with his own. Too close to abject disaster for comfort, still; safe here in Sanctuary, still too close.

He hums and tugs unsubtly at Viktor's hip, a gentle attempt to manhandle him to move completely into Palamedes' lap, come here.]

I will always come back to you— no matter what tries to interfere. Always. [His 'you're stuck with me' quip manifests in the quirk of a grin, instead of saying it out loud.] Right now, I'm not leaving your side for anything. This whole— mess. Whatever falls out from this, we face it together.

Palamedes, if you write that I will not know if I should tease you mercilessly or be incredibly impressed. [both? probably touched in that stupid way he gets when pal is pal. very troubling. like he likes the guy or something.

he'll be happy to move to pal's lap, a soft and amused huff at the direction to do so, as though he wasn't planning on the destination. rare he gets to loom over pal, the tall bastard, but enjoyable, a good way to look into his pretty eyes. he thumb the corner of one, where crows feet will one day settle he hopes, after pal's lived a long and full life.

sometimes he wonders where he imagines that life being. here, a place he has grown fond of but still beats them down every chance it gets? or elsewhere, the way some people seem to fixate on escape to gentler places.

hm. the grin gets a kiss, most things do it seems.] More than this fall out too. With this 'reckoning' business I do fear it will be a difficult month, more than most.

But- [surprise, another kiss, to the corner of his mouth, curling into a small smile.] We face it together, as you say. And if anyone comes to bother you about it all I can finally test out my laser- to scare them away, of course. [hm.]

I know; it'll be both. At the same time, I'm sure. I can take it.

[He will gladly take the teasing/not-so-secretly impressed combo hitter, absolutely. In fact, he's looking forward to it; it's good to have goals.

But good, Viktor in his lap was the more immediate goal and he's glad for that, looking up at him with all manner of saccharine, adoring emotions and sliding a hand up under the back of his shirt, of course. He traces a loopy nonsense shape against his skin, eager to press up into another kiss, warm and languid. All of this mess - the reckoning, the undoubtedly coming consequences for certain actions on boats, the growing corruption in the Trench streets - is a lot, he agrees. He expects to, at least for a few days, have a bad time.

But, well. Viktor has a laser, which makes him snort, leaning his head forward to press into the crook of Viktor's neck and kiss him there, trailing back up to his mouth.]

Of course. To scare them away.

[Ethically... No, honestly, he probably wouldn't stop Viktor from firing a laser at someone, depending on the someone. Viktor's judgment is incredibly sound. He reaches up to cup his face, smoothing his thumb over Viktor's cheekbone.]

Whether or not you shoot someone with a laser— [or rather, whether or not this is a bit,] Thank you. You make me feel safe, you know. I can't think of anywhere better for me to be than here, with you.

To ensure you enjoy your vacation to its fullest. Just a small laser burst. [viktor replies, faux solemn even as his lips threaten to quirk.

it is not a bit in regards to some people, but not many. still though, if anyone tries to force pal's hand there's going to be trouble. he would usually expect common sense from most of them but well, there's been some damage done to that assumption.

he leans into pal's palm and banishes the thought, just enjoying the affection and saccharine sentimentality with only a little huff.]

A good line, you can use that in your book. [undercut by how softly he kisses pal for that, how it lingers and how he grips at the fabric of pal's shirt tightly enough it stretches a touch.] I admit I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Fushiguro and I have been looking more into the pthumerians and the extent of their power is... alarming. Between Marianna angered and this Reckoning-

[hm.] We will stick together, yes? And be very careful. Even mysterious tunnels should probably be avoided, as much as I hate to admit it.

Oh, sure, that will handle things nicely. [lasers...] And it's not a line— careful, or I'll start sneaking love letters into your notes to make you blush.

[And also, like, just because? He's a professional in the art of the sappy love letter, please mentally prepare for this inevitability. He still chuckles into the kiss, soft enough to melt him completely, and he's back to drawing shapes under Viktor's shirt and leaning into his shoulder to listen to this, hm, entirely justified worry about the local Powers That Be.

Darn, though. No tunnels. He scoffs, amused despite it all.]

You know I don't mind staying indoors as long as possible. We'll wait out this storm; I've no idea how long she intends to throw thunder around to make her point, but I won't object to this one— and then... I don't know. The Reckoning is after punishment-dodgers, isn't that right? We haven't done anything that merits the cold hand of the law.

[Well. They stole a chalkboard. But they were also humiliated by a janitor, so that's punishment enough for that petty crime, surely.]

Is it too lackadaisical of me to say I'm glad the Reckoning seems straightforward? I'm looking forward to a thorough lack of ghosts and petty riddles.

Please, my heart can't take it. [as though he wouldn't cherish them but yeah he'd die. at least he could do so in privacy, assuming pal is merciful.

his hand goes back to idly running through pal's hair, considering all that as he does. there is a moment he's concerned of the idea of the reckoning deciding cytherea's death is punishable but surely eight months in isolation was punishment enough? death on top of it?

he lets out a soft sigh. otherwise no, he can hardly see anything he's done that deserves the blade.] I suppose I am more concerned with this malicious attitude even the Trench natives seem to have. Have you been to the boardwalk this month? Calling them unpleasant is putting it mildly.

I assume it's some influence, and if it starts affecting sleepers with the power to cause trouble too- [need he continue there. ah well, another press of his lips to pal's temple.] Eh, another set of troubles we'll make do with, I suppose. At least this place has air conditioning.

That's only going to egg me on. [Ha ha, this is romance? Nothing could be more romantic than heckling your boyfriend-spouse with secret love notes that will make him lose ten minutes of productivity from perishing, automatically, every time. He does an affectionate little fluttering thing with his fingers down near the base of Viktor's spine, for emphasis - he will write the most embarrassing love letters of all time, just wait.

Still, the trouble at hand; or near at hand, anyway. He thinks about it, shaking his head briefly against Viktor's shoulder about the boardwalk, no, he hasn't yet been. Apparently he shouldn't? He'll keep it in mind.]

Could it be the Reckoning's influence? I'd think it strange if the influence of 'justice' was somehow making them more malicious, but I can't say I'd be surprised. Not around here. No; let's not rule it out.

[Sigh! As always, the work is never done. They could just lock the door and not come out for a few weeks, but that's never going to happen, alas.]

Do you feel any different? I'd have expected to feel more malice by now, myself, given— you know. I don't, but I'm putting that down as a 'yet'.

june catch-all

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