laytondressing | (no subject)

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[Drinking alone has started to pass from just "depressing" into "unhealthy", so Descole's enforced a ban on herself and the mini-fridge has obliged by removing all of the alcohol. Of course, after making the decision she promptly changed her mind, and now she doesn't have anything to drink despite wanting one.

So she's trying to take her mind off things by cleaning, instead, and she's found a room with just enough minuscule bits of dirt to occupy her. It's kind of pointless, given that the place cleans itself perfectly well without any input, but it's something that she can do without dropping her guard too much, and that makes it top of a very small list of things that can pass as leisure activities for her at this point. Anyone passing by is welcome to interrupt her - talking is probably a healthier pastime than trying to scrub holes in the floor, anyway.]

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[Descole goes rigid.]

I--

What... what exactly do you mean by that?

[With the way that he's worded it... she wants to trust him. She doesn't have anyone else to trust, and she doesn't want to give this up. She's said that already. She doesn't know how she'd cope without him, already, so she doesn't want to lose him, but on the other hand... Layton. Amd that one, too, the one who reminds her so much of her own.]

I just--

Oh, god. Double. I-- Please. Please.

[She doesn't even know what she's asking for, at this point. She just wants to be reassured that she's not losing the one person she's really been able to trust since what her own Layton did to her.]

[He grabs her hand and rubs it lightly.]

I am really not doing that again. We just had sex, and I wont let it happen again. He told me there will be some sort of election. He said if he won, he could include me, which means you to. And you don't even have to talk to him.

...if it makes it any better I won't talk to him myself ever again. It was just one fuck.

I'm sorry...

Oh, god. No. Fuck, I--

[She whimpers a little, pulling away from him and curling herself into a ball at the end of the bed, trying to stop herself from trembling long enough that she can speak properly.]

He. When I'd been here a couple weeks I met him the first time. He tried to claim this place. Said he'd been here longest. But-- but I'd been here longer. That's what the election is about. I had a better claim that way so he changed his mind. I don't... I--

[She bites down on the back of her arm, choking back a sob.]

Fuck. Double, please, don't... don't. I... Please, I just... I need...

[She crawls back over to him, wrapping her arms tight enough around him as to be almost uncomfortable.]

[He's slightly dumbfounded at her story but he nods, believing her. She was his best friend.]

I'll never bother myself with him again....

[He rubs her back and runs his fingers through her hair.]

He wont take me away from you.

[Descole lets out a shuddering breath, curling herself in as tight to him as she can manage.]

I... I just... Oh, god, double. I need you. Just... don't scare me like that.

[Leaning up, she kisses him hard, then shakes her head and just buries her head in his chest.]

Fuck. Sorry. I'm... just give me a minute. I'm okay. Mostly.

I understand. I'm not going anywhere.

[He sighs and shakes his head.]

I'm sorry....fuck...I didn't think you'd react so bad...fuck...

I. Sorry. I'm trying not to.

I just... that one... reminded me so much of my own Layton. He... I showed him my scars and he called it craftmanship, and I... I think he's part of why I can't relax, even here, because not only am I afraid that my Layton will arrive, I'm afraid that that one is just as bad.

[She shudders and moves to press her face into his muffler again.]

I don't blame you. I just... sorry. It freaked me out. I'm sorry.

God. I'll start sitting still in a moment.

[He holds her lovingly and sighs. It's another weakness of his, he doesn't like disappointing people.]

I wont go anywhere.

....god I can't believe I cheated on Bradley with that prick...

Ahh... well... he's Layton. It's... easy to give in to Layton. It always was for me, too, before what he did.

[Sighing, she reaches up to pull off her muffler, jacket and tie, dropping them onto the floor and curling back against him. Her stomach grumbles a little.]

...god. I'd forgotten we were going to get food before.

Oh yeah. Maybe we should go do that.

[He holds her hand lightly.]

Only if you're up to it.

I... y-yeah. Just... don't let go of me.

[She moves off the bed, though she's clutching his hand the whole while.]

Well, okay, I'll take you.

[He walks her to the kitchen holding her hand all the while. He finds it surprising it's empty.]

So, what am I making you?

Ah... bacon is fine. But I can make it, I know meat isn't your thing...

Well we can both make it. You be the left hand, I'll be the right.

[He says this with a laugh as hw lifts up their linked together hands, wondering if she'll actually take that suggestion or if she'll be able to do it on her own.]

Ah, it's okay... I'm... a little out of practice, but I was pretty good at doing things one-handed, before.

[She reaches up into one of the cupboards, finding a frying pan, and then locates some bacon in the fridge and sets about preparing it one-handed, squeezing his hand.]

See... whatever happened to make me lose my memories, it didn't leave any scars, but for the first couple of months I could barely move my right arm. I don't know what I'd actually done to it, but I just kind of got used to doing everything with only my left hand.

Well there you go. It seems like you don't even need me.

I do need you, double. Not for the cooking, no, but... I need you here.

[She squeezes his hand again, not looking away from the bacon.]

[He laughs a bit.]

I was talking about the food. I'm not going anywhere.

Good. You'd better not.

[Once the bacon is done, she tips it onto a plate and stares at it for a long moment.]

...I...

...are you going to do it?

[The smell of the bacon is making him feel kind of sick, but he's not letting her see, so he can try and persuade her.]

[Descole hesitates, biting her lip, then just pushes the plate away.]

Ugh. I can't.

Is there any bread? That's not so bad, I guess.

Do you think you could stomach some salted butter on it?

[He shakes his head.]

So, so close.

[And he gives a comforting laugh.]

...probably not, no. I just... salt isn't one of those tastes that I'm good with, really.

[She wraps her free arm around him, still clutching at his hand with her other.]

[He nods, playing with the ends of her hair.]

Well, any sodium is better than none. Perhaps you could eat a piece of bread or something? I don't want you to starve anymore than you already have.

Yeah, I could probably manage plain brad. Can you see if there is any?