[ How could being alone cheer anyone up? Kurou cannot fathom that level of cruelty. Especially since he's already dealt with someone who summoned the God damn Jabberwock all because she felt alone. ]
What kind of person gets off on someone's loneliness?
[ Whaddya mean, gross? If anything Alois should be ecstatic to see....himself. Probably. Who the hell knows? ]
Good.
I'd have been disgusted to see myself sniveling over something that pathetic.
[ As if he- they, Alois, hadn't delved into the dramatics of outright bawling before, all over precisely such a thing. Oh well. Hypocrisy is the least of his concerns. ]
[ Oh. And just when you thought he has no heart, even for himself. ]
Claude. Right?
[ Tersely spoken, as if he doesn't even want to admit to himself that the problem isn't so much being alone, as it is being without one in particular. And that, perhaps, the feeling is mutual for the both of them. ]
Haven't seen him anywhere either; the good for nothing.
[ hints of irritation at the corners of certain features. his eyes, his lips, just under his ears. he can't very well hide it from himself, though, can he?
a small parroting, that leaves on a sigh: ] Claude.
What, again, was it we saw in him? I get to: 'he's very tall,' and then not much further. [ what a blatant lie. he could never run out of the reasons that make claude wonderful, but well, this is a poor attempt to cheer himself up. ]
[ A shame Alois has no real desire to thoroughly antagonize himself. The allure diminishes quickly enough, after that first strike. It makes sense. After all, it isn't very enjoyable to see your own features crease, slowly, as hints of pain creep over them. ]
Really, I couldn't say. The glasses he wears are ridiculous. And he's never one for lengthy conversation. Too curt- always to the point, in my opinion.
[ Fingers flick outward with a flamboyantly dismissive wave of one hand as he speaks. Perhaps they aim to shoo away some conjured image of the man whom lay at the center of their discussion. Maybe to shake off the anxiety this conversation brings. Either way- it does little good. The topic is a nice little blade wedging itself up under his ribcage, and it twists at everything quality Alois hangs onto, clings at, but swallows in the place of admitting to. No manner of grandiose gesture or melodrama can erase that fact. ]
And Claude's smile. Or near utter lack there of. ...That could use work too.
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What kind of person gets off on someone's loneliness?
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That sort, too.
1/several
2/3
3/3
[ Light. Bubbling laughter. ]
Tell me..
Do you think you might cry?
clearly he is his own best friend.
Not particularly. [ >:( not with you standing there!!! ]
Forever and ever. And also: 1/2
Good.
I'd have been disgusted to see myself sniveling over something that pathetic.
[ As if he- they, Alois, hadn't delved into the dramatics of outright bawling before, all over precisely such a thing. Oh well. Hypocrisy is the least of his concerns. ]
2/2
Claude. Right?
[ Tersely spoken, as if he doesn't even want to admit to himself that the problem isn't so much being alone, as it is being without one in particular. And that, perhaps, the feeling is mutual for the both of them. ]
Haven't seen him anywhere either; the good for nothing.
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a small parroting, that leaves on a sigh: ] Claude.
What, again, was it we saw in him? I get to: 'he's very tall,' and then not much further. [ what a blatant lie. he could never run out of the reasons that make claude wonderful, but well, this is a poor attempt to cheer himself up. ]
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Really, I couldn't say.
The glasses he wears are ridiculous. And he's never one for lengthy conversation. Too curt- always to the point, in my opinion.
[ Fingers flick outward with a flamboyantly dismissive wave of one hand as he speaks. Perhaps they aim to shoo away some conjured image of the man whom lay at the center of their discussion. Maybe to shake off the anxiety this conversation brings. Either way- it does little good. The topic is a nice little blade wedging itself up under his ribcage, and it twists at everything quality Alois hangs onto, clings at, but swallows in the place of admitting to. No manner of grandiose gesture or melodrama can erase that fact. ]
And Claude's smile. Or near utter lack there of.
...That could use work too.