milliways_bar | (no subject)

How about skulking in the nearby bushes?

And watching?

Hi, Nepeta! Or, rather, that's what Autor might be saying, if he had the spatial awareness of a gnat.

He appears to be setting up targets away from her, after which he jogs back to his haul. Then he lights up three tennis ball-sized grenades and lets them rip!

Two out of three sizable craters--blasted right where they should be, no less--isn't bad, he thinks. Journal in hand, he jots down some notes.

The third target is just sitting there unmolested, though.

Wait, no it's not.

Eep! Autor thinks, squeaking aloud. He has his hands on his flash bang and is ready to toss it and beat a quick retreat--right when he recognizes the twitching tail of his troll teammate.

He slowly releases the ignition paper on his grenade, and sets it on the ground before he approaches. "You, ah, might want to let me know you're in the firing range next time, Nepeta."

His grin is a bit shaky--he could have seriously hurt her!--but it's there.

Nepeta's laughing. "Hi Autor! I just wanted to s33 if I could take down the one you missed."

"And you did a fabulous job," he says, grinning as he clasps his hands behind his back. "Just don't do it while I'm throwing things. You're nocturnal; if I dropped a flash bang on your face, you'd be blinded. And these are wickedly bright."

He walks over to his collection of incendiary devices and lights a smoke bomb, which sends up a billowing cloud of green to match her. "Oh, that reminds me! I've been meaning to send you a note."

Nepeta's ears perk up. "O rly?"

(Yes, she pronounces it that way.)

It takes him a few seconds to figure out what she means (ya rly).

"If I were to leave you a note with the bar, I'd made it as vague and secretive as I could," Autor says. He leans forward, cups his cheeks with his hands, and whispers, "'Yes. It's plausible.'"

She blinks at him.

"... you mean ...?"

Autor shrugs, and lights an orange smoke bomb. Next will be yellow. Pity he doesn't have any grey, but perhaps white will suit?

"Requires further observation at this point," he says. "But until then, my lips are sealed. You'll not get anything else out of me except, 'plausible,' or even an 'evidently, we'll have to'... Oop! Almost let the cat-troll out of the bag!"

"You're not going to tell me?" she almost wails.

Oh, hey, Nepeta! Looks like Autor can't resist that face! But's he's brave. He's stoic. He's the master of his emotions, and completely immune to adorable things.

Just kidding. He flails.

"Um, no? I mean, wait, yes! Yes, they can," he says, and slaps his forehead with his palm. "I think so, anyway. Maybe? Pretty sure."

Flushing from both memories and his current situation, he reaches out a hand, and then draws it back. Lather, rinse, repeat, until he clasps his fingers together at his chest, settling the matter. "Don't cry, Nepeta. Please."

Do trolls even have tear ducts?

She sniffles a little bit, but doesn't cry. "O-okay."

Beat.

"... so you're saying they can?"

Autor reaches out and squeezes her hand. "Yes," he says, and nods firmly.

Then he drops her fingers and taps his chin, thinking. "But my theory is that it might be on a spectrum. Certain humans seem to be more receptive than others, but my guess is that a kismesis relationship is possible for them."

He winks, and colors spectacularly. "And sometimes, preferable."

Edited 2013-03-20 04:50 (UTC)

She brightens faster than should be possible.

"That's meowrvelous!"

"Um," Autor says, and bites his lip. "Do keep in mind that this is the inexpert opinion of one human who has only just learned about troll romance from you and Karkat."

The disclaimer had to come into play somehow.

"But," she says, "but you did find somenyan that you have black f33lings for? And who might maybe recipurrocate?"

Did you think that pitiful show of pasty pink was his blushing before? Hahaha. His face might as well be made of neon, now.

"Um, well, nothing's been stated outright, of course, but, there is, well, some... er, I mean it's not like there's that much of, um--"

And now Autor's realizing that while romance works beautifully in theory, it's messy in practice. He's also shocked to realize that he's been practicing it at all. Well, he's told Nepeta this much; he may as well out with the rest of it.

"You can't have two people in a quadrant, can you?" he asks, placing a hand on his cheek. "That's taboo, is it not?"

And now he's cursing the fact that he can't just code himself straight into his sylladex and sleep until everyone he knows is dead.

"Not at the same time," she confirms. "Espurrcially not in one of the mating quadrants. But that's not to say you couldn't have, um, the same kind of interest in more than one purrson? If it's still just at the point of being interested?"

"I thought so," he says, nodding. "It'd be unfair to all parties. Not to mention a total bloodbath." A phrase which he never used to use before--nope. Not even going down that road right now, thank you very much.

Then he coughs, fidgeting again. "But I've only known this one for a couple of weeks, really, and the other for... a little bit. And while one is a royal pain and the other is a clapper-clawed bugbear, surely it has been too short to form any sort of a basis of an a-attraction! But, it's not like they're not each seriously hateful people, and it's not like I don't have fun teasing them, it's just, I mean..."

Autor bites his lip. "Er. How are you this evening?"

Nepeta bites her lip to suppress a fond smile. Two new blackcrushes in the space of weeks! Poor Autor; no wonder he's flustered.

"I'm fine," she says cheerfully, "and really it's purrfectly okay if there was more you wanted to say on the matter."

"It's just not fair to either of them, you know?" he says, rubbing his elbow. "It feels like cheating already. And the one is so, so lonely."

Then a grin breaks out on his flushing cheeks. "On the other hand, I came up with a truly corny and quite possibly annoying spade card, depending on the person."

Lonely. He doesn't say it mockingly, either. Almost as though he's approaching this as a weird combination of hate and pity, which ... might work pretty well for humans actually, now that she thinks of it.

She bounces a little at the mention of the spade card. "Tell me?"

He straightens, and clears his throat, glad for the distraction. "'Because I've heard you like grammar, I'd like to end this sentence with a proposition.'"

Then he drops into a smile again. "See? Awful. Have you written any lately?"

It takes her a second to get it.

Okay actually a few seconds.

And then she starts to giggle. "It would be furnnier if you made the sentence actually ungrammatical, though."