rp post

[excontractu]

for offscreen interaction 

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[selfdissecting]

Saying that doesn't help me.

[inhumanresources]

[goes quite blank; he puts down his coffee]

Okay. Well.

Sorry to have been unhelpful, Maeve.

/2

[selfdissecting]

[ they can't feel pain, but for a second it's like the ghost of it possesses them ]

[selfdissecting]

[ a dullness comes over them ] I told. Pascal. I am not right for people, I told him I... couldn't. Do this.

[ and they pick up something Pascal said to them, not that long ago, and they offer it back, shakily: ] You don't have to like me. I work hard, I am good at my job, but that doesn't mean any of you are meant to save me from my nature. It's my nature.

[inhumanresources]

I like you.

Why did you invite me out? I thought it was to have someone listen to you and validate how you're feeling. But that's not helpful. So why? What am I supposed to say?

[feeling very much like the head of HR right now. a bandaid of an aasimar]

[selfdissecting]

[ they struggle to speak around a lump in their throat that they can't feel there, and when they finally manage to, it's toneless ]

...I don't know. I just thought it would be nice.

[inhumanresources]

[he takes a good long moment to transform most of his "you" statements into more neutral forms. politesse. ever politesse.]

It doesn't feel like me trying to be nice to you is wanted, though. I said it's not your fault. I said I'm worried about you. I said I like you. But hearing anything of that sort doesn't seem to help. I'm not being told some important things, I think.

[you don't maintain this job successfully without learning to set boundaries.]

I like to be nice to people. It's sort of what I do. But it doesn't feel good to have it backfire. Maybe it's selfish to tell you what I'm feeling right now, but I don't want to give you the wrong impression.

[selfdissecting]

[ oh, I have fucked up immensely.

mumbled, almost lost to the sound of cafe ambiance, ] I don't know how to talk to people. It's gotten worse since Bugsy disappeared.

[inhumanresources]

[blank slate, ceciliano. tabula rasa, ceciliano. you're a canvas for the people you help; don't forget. receive and catalog]

Who's Bugsy?

[selfdissecting]

[ a slow murmur, heavy with revelation, ] ...No one.

[ they're only a memory anymore. three years this month ]

When they were still around, everything in my head— [ they gestures around their temples with a grimace, a wince ] shut up for once. I could think. I thought I might go back to school. Be a lawyer. [ can't help laughing at that ] But now they're just gone, and every time somebody's nice to me, it's like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[inhumanresources]

I'm sorry.

Really.

[selfdissecting]

[ they nod, morose ]

It isn't you. Ceciliano. I just have a wall, and it never comes down anymore.