[private] once you think you're in you're out.

[subversion]

The room Light leads Matt to is a bar, which has been abandoned every time he's checked it. It's pure curiosity: something a little familiar. Heading to the counter - which is immaculate, as if someone scrubbed it down before walking out - he peeks behind there and steals a bottle of orange juice before looking back to her.

"It was some kind of genocide? Chasing utopia?"

[[OOC: private to stripesandheels.]]

Comments

[subversion.livejournal.com]

Ask.

[Watching her land, and turning towards her. He can lie; it's what he does, and he knows he's better at it than that other-him insisted.]

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Would you be really offended if I asked you to dinner?

[subversion.livejournal.com]

That depends. Are you going to poison me?

[Lazy-sounding, watching her. She rings bells on his pockets.]

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Not purposefully. I mean, I'm an awful cook, but it probably wouldn't come to that.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

When you say "awful"..?

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

I could probably manage soft boiled eggs. But poached is beyond me, and fried is pushing it.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

Come on. I haven't cooked since I left home and even I can poach an egg.

[The half-asleep look is drifting into a smile: he's offguard, not quite there.]

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Maybe you can teach me. I never had access to a kitchen.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

It's easy. [As he rattles off the recipe, he illustrates with his hands.] Shallow pan of water, bring it to the boil, crack your egg into a bowl, tip it into the boiling water, remove the heat, cover the pan. Five minutes for soft, ten for hard.

I could teach you, you know.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

That'd be nice.

[Swinging her feet, a little.]

[subversion.livejournal.com]

My mother used to do it. [An awkward pause.] I didn't answer your question, did I? Did I?

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

I don't remember. I guess you half did.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

Technically, poached eggs are breakfast, not dinner.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Then I guess you didn't, after all.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

I—

[It's whispered to him from the back of his mind all along: everything's different in a closed system.]

—can't. I'm sorry.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

...oh.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

[He's still watching her, curious, and odd, and not quite there.]

Everything's so complicated here.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Only as complicated as we make it, though.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

[He's a little surprised he managed to say no at all.]

No. You think your life's going as normal, and then one morning you walk into an interdimensional mansion full of insane copies of people you don't know.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

[She giggles.]

I'm holding you to breakfast, though. What about next week?

[subversion.livejournal.com]

That might work. I'll teach you the poached egg trick. People make it sound harder than it is.

[Something clouds the tiny smile he responds with.]

Actually, they do that for a lot of things.

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

Like flying, huh?

[Standing on the perch, getting ready to take off.]

I think I need to get to sleep. I'll see you soon, though.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

Like flying. Take care, Matt.

[Because there are a lot of things she should watch out for, aren't there? And people.]

[stripesandheels.livejournal.com]

You too, Light. Get some rest. The world doesn't rest on your shoulders.

[Spreading her wings, she tips forwards and lets herself glide downward in a lazy spiral.]

[subversion.livejournal.com]

[Light watches her go, falls back on his perch, and nests in his wings. Cats below the wren, and hawks above.]