![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thediadem inbox.
Inbox
538 - 7763
Voice β Text β Deliveries β Action
βThis is Lune. Leave a message.β
CONTACTS
AGLAEA π
CID β‘
CLOUD π
JASNAH π‘
JAYCE π οΈ
JOHN DOE π
KIMIKO π
MARC π
SCIEL βοΈ
SHADOWHEART β¨
STEVE πͺ
VERSO πΉ
WADE βοΈ
no subject
Which worked, but.
[ But now the whole next day is stretching out in front of them, and the clock is still ticking, and the minutes are starting to drag with intolerable slowness. Maybe the girls shouldβve called out from their various responsibilities and gone day-drinking today instead. ]
no subject
[ ...
...
... ]
I've heard I make a pretty good distraction. In school I was voted 'Most Distracting'. [ This is bullshit. ]
no subject
[ A little amused, a little derisive. But it's not 'no'. ]
no subject
no subject
You would have to do it very quietly. A silent jig
no subject
[ It was a totally normal friendly jig before!! ]
no subject
[ although isn't that him every day, or ]
no subject
Want to play Jeu de Dames?
no subject
So she relents: ]
I'd like that very much
no subject
Great. I've got a set I can bring over. But you should know I won't go easy on you just because you're hungover.
montage it's a montage
[ Caught between the prospect of bed-rotting or going about her day entirely as normal, Lune hadn't liked either option.
But it turns out that having Verso -- gregarious, talkative, distracting Verso -- on her doorstep is an acceptable compromise. She lets him in. They take their seats at two rickety plastic folding chairs at the small dining table, and she nurses some water and a cup of that shitty percolator coffee while he sets up the board. She's in an awful mood, everything considered: the hangover, the Gommage, the horrific awareness in each throb of pain in her skull. But the game is indeed a pleasant distraction: quiet conversation, occasional surprisingly companionable silence, the click-clack of game pieces, the thrill of competition, and her headache starts to ebb.
Eventually, Verso manages to surprise a laugh out of her.
At one point, she considers asking if he minded that they drank and marked the anniversary without him; but she isn't much for checking in on other's feelings, and so she doesn't.
At yet another point, she almost tells him that she appreciates him checking in. That she's grateful.
And she contemplates warning Verso that there's a letter for him stashed at the front desk of the motel, where the clerk will pass it to him if Lune doesn't return to take it back by morning. If she vanishes today.
But everything unsaid gets caught in her throat. She doesn't mention any of it. She takes another sip of her coffee, and moves a game-piece instead. ]
π
The conversation is relatively sparse, but even without words, it's oddly similar to their usual dynamic: setting traps for each other, guarding their vulnerable spots, making intentional sacrifices when the reward is high enough. With these relatively lower stakes, he finds the challenge of it all rather enriching.
When the time for him to leave rolls around, he packs up the Checkers set with some reluctance; he'd been enjoying himself. Bag slung across his shoulder, he spares Lune a lingering glance before reaching out to let his fingertips graze her shoulder. ]
I'll see you tomorrow, [ he says meaningfully.
And when the 3rd comes: ] Pencil me in for a rematch.