"Well, I can’t stand here talking to two young women all night like I’m still your age. I should let you both get on with your evenings."
The end of his cane taps on the ground as Edgar turns to face me. Considering I haven’t made any noise... and even considering I haven’t really moved, it’s still impressive that he has the spatial awareness to turn that accurately.
"But Citra, might I offer a piece of unsolicited advice?"
"...Of course."
> Wisdom that matters is usually unsolicited. If you knew what to ask for and when, why would people remain ignorant? I had not really asked if she is okay all night, even if I listened to everything she said. I’ve just assumed that the woman looked well enough put together - and that if she had the room to bother with me, that she is alright. What was that about? Maybe she’s sick. I can’t think of what else would cause such a change in someone’s personality? What... is... WRONG with me?! This is fine. Everything is fine. <
Vrika is practically rolling on the ground laughing in my mindscape. After taking back bodily control a dozen sprinted blocks away... the journey back to my own place at Perigee gave me plenty of time to think about how hopeless I am.
As did stuffing my face even more and taking a long shower. With all of that, I’ve come to the conclusion that I really do not understand it.
For better or worse - and it mostly feels like worse - Kyrie brings out things in me, even when she is not around. Including inglorious attempts to deny the silliest, most obvious to anyone things.
"I might not have ever bragged aloud about what I was doing with partners... but I have never, ever sabotaged myself so terribly - to my knowledge. If I had, I’d probably want to forget it though, so maybe I am repressing it?"
Lounging in a fresh set of underwear, because right now I’m still far too stimulated to be stripped down completely... I stare at my phone. Telling myself that doing some research might be in order.
But remembering what Edgar said to me as if it was on repeat.
C: [Did you make it home safely? You seemed pretty unsteady when I last saw you.]
The probing response didn’t give away when the real last time I saw her was. When the notification for her answer comes, I tap on it without even trying to read in the small version.
A: [Checking on me! That’s very sweet, even after I was... well, me.]
A: [Yes, thank you. Made it home fine. Mostly. Only fell up the stairs once.]
"Fell... up?"
Shaking my head at the paradox, my thumbs tap busily away at a response.
C: [Good. Try to drink some water before you sleep. Alcohol dehydrates.]
A: [You’re bossy when you’re worried - it’s cute. Hey, want to see what I saw?]
Several photo attachments come into site, the ones she took suddenly and without asking. And of course, she was right, even in the questionable lighting I do look... striking. The stone lantern behind me in the last creates a nice effect.
A: [See? Told you. The camera loves her.]
Squinting at the phrasing, my heart drops down past my stomach when I notice something. A feature of these devices I haven’t used yet waited within the texting application. At the top, it says more than just the number for the seamstress.
K: [These are beautiful photos, Anise. Thank you for sharing them.]
My heart now climbs to my throat at the confirmation - Kyrie Voss is somehow in my chat with a new friend.