(no subject)

[student_of_impossibility]

There's quite the sound of chatter from the other side of the door when Tavi opens the door. For a moment, before he takes in the sight of the Bar on the other side, his face is markedly neutral in expression. But notice he does. He turns, and the sound vanishes before he gives a wave and closes the door. Briefly he rests his head against the door frame before exhaling, straightening, and making his way slowly towards a couch by the fire.

For all that he's dressed somewhat more formally than usual--there's red and blue silk over a white linen tunic today, and he still has the plain steel circlet of his office--once he's free and clear of the Aleran side of the door, his face is a little too pale, his shoulders a little less straight, and unutterable weariness in his eyes.

As he makes his way over to a couch, he shrugs off the silk, balls it up, tosses it on a pillow, and promptly flops face-down into it. Tall as he is, honestly the couch isn't quite long enough when he's fully stretched out, especially sprawled--but he doesn't seem to care. His circlet is jostled off by the movement and tumbles unheeded to the ground next to him. Honestly, he barely notices his surroundings.

Someone is very, very tired.

Comments

[space_puffin]

Unattended shiny?

Unattended shiny!

Unattended shiny that is now Puffy's as he waddles over and picks the circlet.

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi has a toddler.

Toddlers also like shinies.

It is with almost unconscious, partially furycraft-based awareness that he reaches down entirely absently to feel around for the circlet.

Some instincts aren't even unnatural Gaius strangeness.

[space_puffin]

Puffy is much better than any toddler. He would tell you this at length.

As the hand starts questing around, Puffy skitters away from it. This is his now. Tavi can't reclaim it.

[student_of_impossibility]

Puffy is less prone to draw on state documents, at least.

Reflex has Tavi's fingers barely catching the edge of the circlet before it's entirely out of reach, and with a tug pulls it into his hand properly. With a sigh, he raises his hand to haul the ring of metal up to face level, where he has tilted his head enough to give it a dubious eye-half-open.

[space_puffin]

He would if he could.

Refusing to let go, Puffy is pulled along with the circlet. Flapping his wings he tries with all his little porgy might to get away with his shiny. "Miinee!!" he quorks and the little box around his neck translates.

[behind_me]

The whole event is oberved with a level of detachment from the green skinned woman who happens to be lounging on another couch, a red-ornamented switchblade dancing lightly across her fingers, one side of her hand to the other.

Even with her tall spring-loaded heels, one of which on a foot which hangs by the side of the coach, she fits quite nicely on her chosen seat, and has made herself pretty comfortable.

She debates commenting on his obvious tiredness, but figures she'll just let him rest.

[student_of_impossibility]

Rest is very much what Tavi needs.

That said, it isn't the only thing he needs, as Bar and the waitrats seem to be thoroughly aware of, given that eventually a waitrat makes its way over to him and clears its throat, which Tavi ignores.

What proceeds is a slowly escalating attempt by the waitrat to remain polite while insisting on getting Tavi's attention to actually, you know, order something to eat.

Tavi manages to look incredibly childish, despite being almost six and a half feet tall, by promptly pulling the wrinkling silk over his head and burying his face further into the pillow. Which, honestly, is kind of rude at this point.

[behind_me]

Gamora actually likes the Waitrats. They do a good job, they don't care that she's committed atrocities across several galaxies, and they always bring good food.

They don't deserve to be treated like this.

She puts the switchblade away and beckons the rat over to bring her a bottle top from the table, which she folds up with uncannily strong fingers and flicks directly across the space into his bicep.

[student_of_impossibility]

Huh.

Tavi's not entirely sure what just hit him. He lifts his head enough to turn and see what it was--and while he doesn't see the bottle top, he does see Gamora, so he'll assume she's the source of whatever the projectile was.

"Can I help you?"

Despite his clear grumpiness and exhaustion, the tone of the question comes out surprisingly calm, polite, and genuinely inquisitive. He puts up the mask very, very quickly these days.

[behind_me]

Gamora calmly nods at the rat between them, then rasies her gaze to meet his, her head tilted slightly as she takes him in.

"He would like to take your order," she observes.

[electro_kinetic]

"Been a while since I've seen that face. Rufus, right?"

So says Noriko as she idly flips a page and keeps making notes in the margins. She's more or less the same: blue hair, gauntlets to her elbows. But the bounce, the glee at being alive, seems to be gone. It's either that or very well-hidden.

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi sighs a little.

She is really never going to let that one go, is she.

He turns lifts his head to glance up at her, and an eyebrow arches.

"You look about as cheerful as I feel," he observes dryly.

[electro_kinetic]

Nope.

"Why wouldn't I be cheerful?" she asks, pen pausing. "I'm just taking notes. Coursework."

At least she doesn't look like she's been hit by a truck.

[student_of_impossibility]

Lack of trucks is a good place to start, certainly.

"Some coursework was always more fun than others," Tavi says wistfully. Long nights doing proofs with Ehren after they got back from Cursor training were nice.

Exhausting and frustrating, but nice.

Laws are more frustrating and exhausting than proofs, but at least the physical injury portion of education is over. He's good with that. "Anything interesting in it?"

[electro_kinetic]

"Electromagnetic frequencies and their effects on organs and tissues," Noriko recites, holding up the book. "I'd rather be doing the practical version, but apparently people frown on being slightly electrocuted."

SHRUG. Who knew?

"I mean, it'd be way more fun if the professor wasn't like...a super creepy waifu neckbeard, but that's not gonna happen."

[childofrebellion]

Cassian looks up from his datapad as Tavi flops down and asks, "Want a blanket?"

His work is hard and tiring but at least by the fire, he can have some comfort.

[student_of_impossibility]

He looks up at the sound of that voice.

"Cassian," he says wearily, then drops his face back into the balled-up silk.

A few seconds of silence follow.

"No."

Too tired for blanket, honestly.

[childofrebellion]

"Understood, I can keep watch,"

He knows sometimes that need for sleep but even Milliways isn't safe enough to sleep without someone watching over.

[student_of_impossibility]

Huh.

There's a little more silence.

"You don't have to," Tavi says eventually. "I don't think I'm actually going to sleep."

He knows he isn't, much as he'd like to.

[childofrebellion]

"That bad a situation?" Sometimes sleep only makes everything harder, Cassian's not looking forward to his dreams tonight.

[sunbaked_baker]

You ever see someone and know that they're probably why the Great Cosmic Whatever led you to make the choices you did, today? There hadn't been any other motive to her baking a whole tray of Sunshine's Cinnamon Rolls As Big As Your Head except the potential for selling a tray of cinnamon-rolls-as-big-as-your-head (which helpfully doubles as an excuse to nab one for herself, of course).

But this guy?

Everything about him says he is in need of a cinnamon roll. Possibly two, if he hasn't eaten recently. Something looks a bit off about his shadows - not bad, just a bit off. Maybe he needs two.

So that would be why someone is setting a plate holding two gigantic cinnamon rolls, still warm and soft from the ovens, decadently fragrant with loads of melted cinnamon-sugar and gooey with freshly (and generously) drizzled icing, down on the end of the coffee table nearest the flopped man.

[student_of_impossibility]

That smell is...

Well.

It is not a baked good they have in Alera, and the smell is enticing like nothing he's really smelled before. After a few minutes of the aroma making its way even past the silk and pillow his face is buried in, he raises his head to look for the source.

So those are there.

His face is a little too pale and his eyes too bruised as he pushes himself up onto his elbows and stares blearily at the cinnamon rolls.

Huh.

[sunbaked_baker]

There's another cinnamon roll much like those (only, you know, missing a few bits she's already torn off and eaten) on the plate of the apron-clad red-haired woman in a chair nearby. She glances at the bleary-eyed man with a look of wry sympathy.

"They're good defense against long days."

[student_of_impossibility]

Oh, those are for him, not just placed there by some cruel happenstance to taunt him with their smell.

In that case...

Tavi shoots her a grateful look. "Thank you," he says fervently, pushing himself up into a proper sitting position and grabbing the plate. He picks up a cinnamon roll (he notes the mess) and examines it.

The speed with which it disappears is a testament both to how hungry he is and that he is clearly used to needing to speed through food. He's still shaking some habits off from the war.

[sunbaked_baker]

The cinnamon rolls were recently in the oven, still warm and soft, made with real cinnamon and good yeast dough, decadent, covered in smooth, homemade vanilla icing, and made with no small skill.

The baker doesn't interrupt him; she can get a good look at the man's face, now, though. The shadows under his eyes are quite deep, deeper than they should be. The edges of his shadows are pale. Hmm.

So long as the man remembers to breathe, and swallow, and keeps the inhalation of the cinnamon rolls to a metaphor instead of making it literal, she figures he'll be fine.