[ He takes in and lets out a breath, the first sensation of relief when Mister LaRusso agrees. Robby knew the man wouldn't hold him there, and it's not out of held apprehension that he feels some loosening in him--it's just the prospect of getting away from this conversation, one held before Mister LaRusso walked into the room at all. From its concurrence, when his mind has been mentally wrung out.
Robby gives Mister LaRusso the briefest of smiles, and he leaves him not in a rush, but with a goal of going into the spare bedroom he's been occupying.
And in there, he thinks.
It's not his goal, nor what Robby initially does. He wants to stop thinking, like any more of it will push his skull out of place, or dislodge his brain. There's concrete up in there, and so he sprawls on the bed with no intention than staring at various parts of the room: the ceiling at first, then the walls on either side. Sleep isn't an option, though Robby tries once or twice; but his body won't drift off, and it's in the times after his first few attempts his thoughts lead him to the inevitable. Where they've been since Mister LaRusso called, and Robby looked down the hall and saw his face.
He thinks about Peter.
Sitting there across from him, in Mister LaRusso's living room, in Peter and Luna's own; them sitting side by side on his front doorstep, commiserating in how more magical and capable everyone around them seemed, how freaky Trench was and is. His shaking hands, his avoidant gaze; coming to the dojo to be more himself, and 'Meditating, Peter said it help with keeping Paimon at bay'. A tiny piece of sanity after the disorientation.
He thinks about a friend, and the shit he's going through.
It had been easy to offer to help. Not that Robby really knew what the fuck helping was, what learning about Paimon would entail. What good he could do, or what or if they could figure out anything useful. Paimon's behaviour leans young, but Robby isn't about to underestimate a demon that swatted aside beasts without them being close, the unnatural way it acts in Peter's body. A lot in life, he was able to do stupid shit without any consequence. Lately, before Trench and after, he's become more aware of how limited he is, how easily everything can fall.
(a body over, a kick, a burst of anger that didn't want to give in.)
And so he has to think about Paimon, and yet--he thinks about his dad, too.
That's the hardest. That's what makes this hard, complicated, like picking up a weapon and training with Darth Maul again. Isn't it similar, the same? If he was to just do it, even if it wasn't for Paimon himself, and maybe it would be more like Tory in this context. Help Paimon to help Peter.
Except he couldn't do it without telling his dad, and it's a conversation even in his head that makes Robby feel like shit despite how short he imagines it. Acceptance, being told it's good he's helping, and that somehow frustrates him for a reason he can't explain to himself for a good bit.
But no one should be fine with it, right? No one should be fine with death. 'It's still death'--even Peter had acknowledged it. But death is probably a subject his dad is done and over with, he doesn't know how to retread, and maybe it's unreasonable for Robby to be stuck on it, or wanting anything different than what he's been given. A man who doesn't regret most of his deaths, stood up for what he believed in, and Robby--he just has to deal with that.
He doesn't come close to feeling as relieved as he did on leaving Mister LaRusso earlier in the living room. ]
1/2
Robby gives Mister LaRusso the briefest of smiles, and he leaves him not in a rush, but with a goal of going into the spare bedroom he's been occupying.
And in there, he thinks.
It's not his goal, nor what Robby initially does. He wants to stop thinking, like any more of it will push his skull out of place, or dislodge his brain. There's concrete up in there, and so he sprawls on the bed with no intention than staring at various parts of the room: the ceiling at first, then the walls on either side. Sleep isn't an option, though Robby tries once or twice; but his body won't drift off, and it's in the times after his first few attempts his thoughts lead him to the inevitable. Where they've been since Mister LaRusso called, and Robby looked down the hall and saw his face.
He thinks about Peter.
Sitting there across from him, in Mister LaRusso's living room, in Peter and Luna's own; them sitting side by side on his front doorstep, commiserating in how more magical and capable everyone around them seemed, how freaky Trench was and is. His shaking hands, his avoidant gaze; coming to the dojo to be more himself, and 'Meditating, Peter said it help with keeping Paimon at bay'. A tiny piece of sanity after the disorientation.
He thinks about a friend, and the shit he's going through.
It had been easy to offer to help. Not that Robby really knew what the fuck helping was, what learning about Paimon would entail. What good he could do, or what or if they could figure out anything useful. Paimon's behaviour leans young, but Robby isn't about to underestimate a demon that swatted aside beasts without them being close, the unnatural way it acts in Peter's body. A lot in life, he was able to do stupid shit without any consequence. Lately, before Trench and after, he's become more aware of how limited he is, how easily everything can fall.
(a body over, a kick, a burst of anger that didn't want to give in.)
And so he has to think about Paimon, and yet--he thinks about his dad, too.
That's the hardest. That's what makes this hard, complicated, like picking up a weapon and training with Darth Maul again. Isn't it similar, the same? If he was to just do it, even if it wasn't for Paimon himself, and maybe it would be more like Tory in this context. Help Paimon to help Peter.
Except he couldn't do it without telling his dad, and it's a conversation even in his head that makes Robby feel like shit despite how short he imagines it. Acceptance, being told it's good he's helping, and that somehow frustrates him for a reason he can't explain to himself for a good bit.
But no one should be fine with it, right? No one should be fine with death. 'It's still death'--even Peter had acknowledged it. But death is probably a subject his dad is done and over with, he doesn't know how to retread, and maybe it's unreasonable for Robby to be stuck on it, or wanting anything different than what he's been given. A man who doesn't regret most of his deaths, stood up for what he believed in, and Robby--he just has to deal with that.
He doesn't come close to feeling as relieved as he did on leaving Mister LaRusso earlier in the living room. ]