Just stopping by to make sure Luna has a little boost, too. [He makes a small gesture with the leftover cup.] Not even he should be handling all those double shifts.
[Not particularly wanting to be questioned further about his presumed 'niceness,' his gaze wanders over to the notebook.]
Working on the thrilling sequel to that one you told the kids?
Luna? Mhm, yeah, he said he was working as a guard too next to this. He comes to work and puts the same amount of effort each time.
[Just an observation she made. So far, she had a rather neutral opinion on the guy. He came here to work, was pretty respectful, did his job. All without fail. Professionally, so far, they got along fine.
She took a look into the cup, not really into questioning how he knew him. It didn't matter at the moment. That kind of personal questioning was probably when the social link was at a higher rank; or however that went.
Luna probably deserved the second cup too, but she already took a drink out of it. Too late now.
Though right on cue, she closed her notebook. Reflex probably.]
[Good thing neither of the cups are for Mallory. Coffee's too bitter in general for him most of the time, anyway.
It's also a good thing Riye's paying too much attention to her drink to notice the proud, fond smile that spreads across Mal's face when she talks about what a good worker Luna is.]
Heh. Yeah, that sounds like him.
[But he's going to run out of steam eventually...
He glances to the closed notebook once again, raising an eyebrow, but he knows better than to push the subject. He offers little more than a put-out sort of grunt. Of course, now he can't help but wonder about it. Not about the story, but if she actually is taking personal notes that could come back to bite someone in the ass one day.
Yeah, the last thing his paranoid ass needs is caffeine of his own.]
[Funny thing is, if she knew the context, she wouldn't blame him for paranoia. But the paranoia with this one would be unfounded, like he would know now. She had no reason to collect any dirt on someone she didn't unfathomably hate.
She had Issues. Maybe she would have issues for a while. But whenever she was in her creative mode and wrote and wrote like she was with very little aim or purpose, she had to wonder how good it was. Was she writing just for her? She lost count but she had to have written fifty pages for a story that she didn't know if she would EVER share or not. Someone finally pointing out that she was writing from inspiration made her...self conscious?
Everything was weird.]
I admit, ever since dealing with those angels from above, I did suddenly get inspiration.
[Hahahaha, she had remember he kind of got her weird sense of humor. Which was something she really missed. She tapped the top of her personal journal with her fingers for a moment before she figured she had to make a few decisions. Pretty crucial ones.]
The real version might have had a few more Communists with a bit more bloody brutality. But I haven't really done anything with Melody Powers since high school.
Anonymity's fine by me. Having people think I could spin a yarn at all's what started that whole mess int he first place.
[Excuse him if he just sits his ass down on the edge of the table here. So she was this grim even in high school, huh? ...Well, it doesn't look like it was too long ago for her, but it's still an amusing little detail.]
You know... Writing like that in high school's enough to get you into a pretty prestigious one back where I'm from.
It felt like yesterday when her sucky principal waltzed in a room with enough self congratulations to award two students a ticket to Pretentious Snob School For Gifted Students, Grove Hills, which would undoubtedly look good on her own record as an educator to bring such prestigious young people. So they had her, antisocial but gets amazing grades without even trying. Then they had Perfect Model Student.
She remembered how much she didn't want to even visit, let alone go to the school to be surrounded by people full of themselves and their "gifts". Deciding not to go ultimately all through an understanding with the Model Student. Understanding the worlds they both came from, respecting each other, but knowing that place would be the death of them both for similar and different reasons.]
Been there, done that. I had a stressful enough time in a normal high school. Going to a special one would just up my odds of losing it.
[Mal watches her out of the corner of his eye for a moment, cocking an eyebrow. She's just full of surprises, isn't she? He wonders just how many schools there are across the world (worlds?) that follow Hope's Peak's model.
Finally, he offers a silent grunt of agreement.]
You're telling me. It's more pressure than most people think... and it'd be a shame to see you resent your own writing. --Or whatever.
[Uh, along with plenty of other bad things that could have happened. He's not going to bring up the dark ending of that school's legacy, thanks.
He puts one foot flat against the ground, only half-committed to getting up just yet.]
I should probably leave you to it, huh?
[Make sure Luna's coffee's still hot when it gets to him and all.]
Like, with all of the projection of supposed apathy she gave out, it was maybe a bit scary for someone to point out that she would maybe grow to hate her writing. Not that she hadn't doubted her ability with insecurity alone. But she feared that people would maybe push all kinds of pressure next to dealing with the biggest tools on the planet. It would be like Lawndale High squared or cubed. People who would want to make you doubt your place, or people who would think you were less so because you got an "A" to an "A+". God forbid, need a break or not want to network and create a false ad of yourself.
No. Not for her. She knew that, and it ended up working for her. Maybe she missed out on such a grand opportunity, but it ended up being the best for her.
Yet, look where she ended up.
She realized she went a little quiet for a few seconds. She might've worked a small smile.]
It feels like yesterday when I told some jerk that you could be intellectually gifted and morally bankrupt. Doesn't matter what school you went to.
[Just when he was ready to get up, she placed a hand on her notebook. Considering something for a moment, but she fought it a little. Give it a moment.]
And that was dangerous. Of course Mal knew better than to go around divulging any truly important details to someone he barely knew, but he was comfortable enough in her presence to let some of his more personal thoughts and feelings slip through, and that alone was enough of a mistake.
It wasn't that she seemed like the fake, self-serving type he hated so much. It was just that he was resigned to the fact that sooner or later, everyone turned on you.
Don't get too involved, he reminded himself. The smile he returned hers with was tired and bittersweet, but too short to leave much time to analyze it. He stood and stretched his back.]
I'm on it. And hey- if you ever feel like sharing more of your work, I wouldn't mind reading it.
[She wanted to say she knew better. Because every time something happened, mainly a friend leaving, she was told to not go backwards.
As much as she didn't want to do that, not really, it was hard sometimes. Like a thought tried nagging at her mind to stop while she was ahead, because it would just end up painful. Even if it was entirely out of her control. Daria was still here working, and practically everyone she cared about had come and gone.
Everything just was screaming at her at all directions, she didn't know what was the right method anymore. Not even the "harsh but honest" one felt like it was getting to her. That method ALWAYS came easier.
But it wasn't. She went already down this hole.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[That was the best remark she came up with, and it was so short and small compared to how she felt. But it was completely sincere.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Not particularly wanting to be questioned further about his presumed 'niceness,' his gaze wanders over to the notebook.]
Working on the thrilling sequel to that one you told the kids?
[Or something more nefarious?]
no subject
[Just an observation she made. So far, she had a rather neutral opinion on the guy. He came here to work, was pretty respectful, did his job. All without fail. Professionally, so far, they got along fine.
She took a look into the cup, not really into questioning how he knew him. It didn't matter at the moment. That kind of personal questioning was probably when the social link was at a higher rank; or however that went.
Luna probably deserved the second cup too, but she already took a drink out of it. Too late now.
Though right on cue, she closed her notebook. Reflex probably.]
Something like that.
no subject
It's also a good thing Riye's paying too much attention to her drink to notice the proud, fond smile that spreads across Mal's face when she talks about what a good worker Luna is.]
Heh. Yeah, that sounds like him.
[But he's going to run out of steam eventually...
He glances to the closed notebook once again, raising an eyebrow, but he knows better than to push the subject. He offers little more than a put-out sort of grunt. Of course, now he can't help but wonder about it. Not about the story, but if she actually is taking personal notes that could come back to bite someone in the ass one day.
Yeah, the last thing his paranoid ass needs is caffeine of his own.]
no subject
She had Issues. Maybe she would have issues for a while. But whenever she was in her creative mode and wrote and wrote like she was with very little aim or purpose, she had to wonder how good it was. Was she writing just for her? She lost count but she had to have written fifty pages for a story that she didn't know if she would EVER share or not. Someone finally pointing out that she was writing from inspiration made her...self conscious?
Everything was weird.]
I admit, ever since dealing with those angels from above, I did suddenly get inspiration.
no subject
[That's what that precious group would have inspired in him, anyway.]
no subject
[Hahahaha, she had remember he kind of got her weird sense of humor. Which was something she really missed. She tapped the top of her personal journal with her fingers for a moment before she figured she had to make a few decisions. Pretty crucial ones.]
The real version might have had a few more Communists with a bit more bloody brutality. But I haven't really done anything with Melody Powers since high school.
no subject
[Excuse him if he just sits his ass down on the edge of the table here. So she was this grim even in high school, huh? ...Well, it doesn't look like it was too long ago for her, but it's still an amusing little detail.]
You know... Writing like that in high school's enough to get you into a pretty prestigious one back where I'm from.
no subject
It felt like yesterday when her sucky principal waltzed in a room with enough self congratulations to award two students a ticket to Pretentious Snob School For Gifted Students, Grove Hills, which would undoubtedly look good on her own record as an educator to bring such prestigious young people. So they had her, antisocial but gets amazing grades without even trying. Then they had Perfect Model Student.
She remembered how much she didn't want to even visit, let alone go to the school to be surrounded by people full of themselves and their "gifts". Deciding not to go ultimately all through an understanding with the Model Student. Understanding the worlds they both came from, respecting each other, but knowing that place would be the death of them both for similar and different reasons.]
Been there, done that. I had a stressful enough time in a normal high school. Going to a special one would just up my odds of losing it.
no subject
Finally, he offers a silent grunt of agreement.]
You're telling me. It's more pressure than most people think... and it'd be a shame to see you resent your own writing. --Or whatever.
[Uh, along with plenty of other bad things that could have happened. He's not going to bring up the dark ending of that school's legacy, thanks.
He puts one foot flat against the ground, only half-committed to getting up just yet.]
I should probably leave you to it, huh?
[Make sure Luna's coffee's still hot when it gets to him and all.]
no subject
Like, with all of the projection of supposed apathy she gave out, it was maybe a bit scary for someone to point out that she would maybe grow to hate her writing. Not that she hadn't doubted her ability with insecurity alone. But she feared that people would maybe push all kinds of pressure next to dealing with the biggest tools on the planet. It would be like Lawndale High squared or cubed. People who would want to make you doubt your place, or people who would think you were less so because you got an "A" to an "A+". God forbid, need a break or not want to network and create a false ad of yourself.
No. Not for her. She knew that, and it ended up working for her. Maybe she missed out on such a grand opportunity, but it ended up being the best for her.
Yet, look where she ended up.
She realized she went a little quiet for a few seconds. She might've worked a small smile.]
It feels like yesterday when I told some jerk that you could be intellectually gifted and morally bankrupt. Doesn't matter what school you went to.
[Just when he was ready to get up, she placed a hand on her notebook. Considering something for a moment, but she fought it a little. Give it a moment.]
Yeah, you better give Luna that coffee.
no subject
And that was dangerous. Of course Mal knew better than to go around divulging any truly important details to someone he barely knew, but he was comfortable enough in her presence to let some of his more personal thoughts and feelings slip through, and that alone was enough of a mistake.
It wasn't that she seemed like the fake, self-serving type he hated so much. It was just that he was resigned to the fact that sooner or later, everyone turned on you.
Don't get too involved, he reminded himself. The smile he returned hers with was tired and bittersweet, but too short to leave much time to analyze it. He stood and stretched his back.]
I'm on it. And hey- if you ever feel like sharing more of your work, I wouldn't mind reading it.
wow
As much as she didn't want to do that, not really, it was hard sometimes. Like a thought tried nagging at her mind to stop while she was ahead, because it would just end up painful. Even if it was entirely out of her control. Daria was still here working, and practically everyone she cared about had come and gone.
Everything just was screaming at her at all directions, she didn't know what was the right method anymore. Not even the "harsh but honest" one felt like it was getting to her. That method ALWAYS came easier.
But it wasn't. She went already down this hole.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[That was the best remark she came up with, and it was so short and small compared to how she felt. But it was completely sincere.]
Thanks.