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Duck places one foot slowly after another, dragging her toes, as she slumps her way into the bar.

Pique won't talk to her; Fakir is expelled; Mytho is -- Mytho is she doesn't even know what, and she doesn't have any idea what's going on.

Sitting at a table in Milliways might not actually help with any of that, but it's better than listening to Lilie go on and on about how she and Pique are going to have a battle --

-- not that she's annoyed with Lilie! She's happy Lilie is having fun! Lilie is her only friend right now who isn't sad or upset, and that counts for something, right?

(Okay maybe she's a little tiny bit annoyed with Lilie. But she doesn't know what to do with that feeling, so Milliways it is!)

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"Not me," says Duck, a little mournfully. "I run into things all the time no matter how much I've got on my mind or not . . ."

Which doesn't mean she doesn't hvae a lot on her mind right now, just that Autor's premise is not really an accurate one when it comes to Duck.

"But I'll definitely be okay!" she adds, reassuringly. "I mean, I'm not hurt or in trouble or anything like that! It's not me who's --"

Uh.

Got you.

"Oh," he says softly, and glances at their shared door, the door to Goldkrone and home and Story. "Are you worried about Mytho?"

Then he looks at her. "Or Fakir?"

Duck's head jerks up at that.

She hesitates, and shifts her position on the stool little. "Say, Autor . . ."

Another pause; picking her words carefully doesn't come easily to Duck.

"Um . . . you know, you told me last time we talked you didn't really know Fakir, and -- I'm not saying that you didn't tell me the truth or anything, but I'm kinda confused about something . . ."

Autor casually leans on the bar. As casually as he doesn't feel right at this moment.

"Yes?" he asks evenly. "How can I help?"

"The thing is, Fakir said you'd talked to him, and you knew a lot about him, and that was right after I talked to you -- and, and maybe it's me being stupid," Duck continues, watching Autor with wide blue eyes, "but I don't really get why you would say that you hadn't talked to him when you were talking to me, if you really had, you know?"

Wait, I didn't tell her--oh, I did, didn't I? he thinks, and adopts a small, soft smile to keep his lips from twisting. What an egregious error.

"I don't think you're stupid at all, Duck," the boy says. Loud and clumsy and almost suffocating, but not dumb. And Fakir's go-between.

"You caught me out," he says, cupping his chin in his hand. "I've spoken to him thrice."

Edited (because the mun has spots in memory) 2013-05-28 09:59 (UTC)

Oh!

Well . . . that was surprisingly easy. Duck's face shows her relief openly; if he'd said he hadn't, she didn't know what she could have said, because she couldn't have believed him.

"Um, then . . . why did you tell me you didn't?"

"I didn't trust you," he says, and his smile is more than a bit chagrined. "Sorry. I probably should have, but I'm... not very good at that."

Oh, yes, let's just tell her everything. Brilliant. He orders up another cup of tea, and carefully nudges the purple cow towards her.

Edited 2013-05-28 19:46 (UTC)

"Not trust me?"

Duck blinks -- but then, it's not that unfamiliar, is it? Not that long ago, Fakir had told her that he didn't trust her, either.

Of course, even when he didn't trust her, he never lied to her.

. . . although he did shut her in a door and drop her on the stage, not to mention being really mean to Mytho, which maybe some people would think was worse.

"I guess I understand that," she says (she doesn't really, but she can sort of begin to think about understanding it.) "I mean, you don't know me or anything, but I didn't think -- I mean, why would talking to Fakir be a big deal? We're all classmates together, right?"

And as far as she knows, Autor doesn't have anything to do with Fakir's special extracurricular activities.

See? Not dumb at all. Damn, Autor thinks, irritated. The one time I lie here and it has to be to you.

"Yes, we are," he says, though he's not about to point out that there aren't any people their age in town who don't attend the Academy. "And you're right, I shouldn't have done that. Please don't take it personally."

The boy is more than a bit surprised that the conversation is proceeding so poorly. He can't even remember the specifics on what he was going to ask her. I need to get away from this girl now. Right now, before she reminds me again that I enjoy the taste of my toes.

"Oh, I don't!" Duck says hastily. "I mean, I'm not mad or anything -- I promise!"

She gives him an earnest smile. If he's like Fakir was before, then that's more reason than ever to believe he needs as much friendship as she can give.

"And, I mean, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but . . . I am still sorta curious why you were so worried about Fakir . . ."

Autor's taken aback by her eagerness to forgive and forget--not to mention the way her grin pop!s into place. He takes a second to reorient himself enough to answer her question.

"He's an interesting classmate, and everyone knows he has a temper," Autor says, shrugging. "I really did think he'd yell at you." Then he frowns again. "He didn't yell at you, did he?"

Because really, the focus of their conversations shouldn't be on the music student, now or ever.

Edited 2013-05-29 06:16 (UTC)

Duck shakes her head. "Me and Fakir are friends!"

It's totally possible he did yell at her, but it sort of rolls of her back at this point like water -- well, yeah, that.

Of course, he also warned her away from Autor, she remembers belatedly, but she'd already told him that wasn't happening; not when she'd already made a promise.

Then her brow furrows. "Were you scared if you talked to me about him, he'd yell at you?"

He might think differently.

"Not really," he says, shrugging. "I wish I could tell you, Duck, but I don't really remember all that clearly."

And he doesn't, which is only a small part of the reason he's sunk. I never expected you, of all people, to be grilling me, he thinks, and hides his wickedly amused smile in his teacup. It's terribly ironic.

He wonders if he should ask questions of his own, but decides against it. After finishing his tea, he stands. "So, um, did you want to know anything else?"

"N-no," says Duck, thrown off-guard. "Um, I don't think so . . ."

She still wants to know the first thing she wanted to know, which he still hasn't really explained, but . . . maybe that doesn't count?

Wait, did she start out with another question? Did he start out with another question? SHE'S LOST TRACK. She stares at Autor, in obvious befuddlement.

Oh, Autor knows that look. He likes that look.

Unfortunately for him, he's just as befuddled, which is extraordinarily discomfiting. What an amazing ability she has, he thinks uncharitably, to radiate what she feels.

The music student tilts his head, studying the tiny girl. In fact, she's so expressive, I doubt she could ever keep a secret from anybody. That could be useful.

He strongly considers handing her a book to give to Fakir just to get the danseur's tights in a bunch, but she'd ask why. Plus, Autor thinks he's already given the other boy enough. If he's too dense to put it all together, that's his problem. As for her...

Autor sketches a little bow. "Well then, take care, Duck," he says, and starts to head past her.

Edited 2013-05-31 06:46 (UTC)

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