opportunitycosts | [ empatheias ] message box

[ --Woah, is that some faulty lighting? It catches Red's attention, but just for a second as Alvin speaks. ]

Oh, this? [ His hand hovers over it as he huffs jokingly. ] I tripped and hit the ground. [ Eheh. ] It's just a scratch though. It'll heal.

[ He's stepping inside a bit, noting the back room's not as changed as the front, but that's not why he's here. ]

Sorry I haven't been around to help out. I didn't forget about this place. [ His mouth pulls into an apologetic smile, but his eyes divert briefly as he continues. ] I got hurt pretty bad during the fighting, so I had to rest up. I only started moving around a couple of days ago.

[ He waves a hand, quick to say: ] But everything's alright now! I don't know if there's still stuff people can do to help out...

[ Would you like an extra pair of hands, Mr. Boss Man? That's an offering tone there! ]

[It is totally faulty lighting nothing to see there or think about it, nope...

It's a bit relieving to hear that it's only a simple scratch. He had worried it might have been something worse or... Some kind of leftover or scar from when he—you know. Not that Alvin knows if such things happen. Are all injuries heal? Is there anything left as a scar? Questions that surface but none he would ever actually ask.

But when Red mentions that he "got hurt pretty bad," there's a small flicker in his eyes, his lips thinning into a slightly firmer line. There's a moment where it looks like Alvin is about to say something, but instead there's a small shake, as if to clear his thought or to in answer to Red's question.]

There's plenty. We still have a lot of inventory to refill and things moved out and reorganized. I don't want to put too much stress on you if you've had to take this long to recover, so I can give you some of the smaller tasks if you're up to it.

You can start by bringing this crate out to the bar on the floor.

[In the end, Alvin decided not to bring it up. At least not right now. Not exactly the best conversation and who knows. Maybe Red doesn't want him to know or talk about it, anyway.

...However. There is one thing of potential concern, so as Alvin shifts a crate to push toward Red, he casually asks—]

Have you met with the others? Milla, Ludger? [A small glance.] I'm sure they might have something that needs help with, too.

[ With a positive hum to the task Red kneels, bringing the crate into his hold after rolling his fingers a little from the work-out they got yesterday. It's not the lift that makes him wince but the way his knees bend close to his stomach--but it's fine, nothing beyond a small flinch on his face before he's holding it without a problem in his hands, though not holding it too close. ]

I haven't seen Milla yet. Ludger's the...other cook? [ And then, a small sheepish sound follows. ] I think that's who I met yesterday. [ ... ] I'll look out for them.

[ He thought to add when they'd met, but it was a insignificant detail, and he'll turn to take out this crate now if there's nothing else- ]

Oh you met him? [Again keeping his tone casual as he now watches Red. He notices that flinch, but it looks like despite the pain he can handle it. If the kid struggled more, he would have definitely stopped him, but it doesn't look too painful.] But yeah he's our other cook—don't tell Milla, but personally I think he might be the better one. [Ha. Ha ha ha. Attempt at a small joke.

It looks as if he might just let Red go. And he thinks about it. But just as Red is about a few inches away from the door—]

Red, are you going to be comfortable working here with Ludger?

[Rather than the usual light, amusing tone, the words are softer and a little heavier. Cautionary. He's still not directly stating, "I know what happened," but the implication is heavy here. He'll tease it out a littler before heading in deep.]

[ Alvin's words stop him, chin turning to face him. The small hint of a smile from the harmless joke leaves him, but it doesn't get wiped off his face in any sudden manner. It goes softly, with the introduction of confusion that has Red almost waiting for more to be said, for some reason for it.

But that was a pretty odd thing to ask out of the blue, and he can't hold back from just asking: ] Why?

[ ... Does he think it wasn't his own clumsy mistake he fell over, does Ludger have some odd habit of knocking people down that Alvin knows about-- ]

[How to put this—

Wait.

Wait.

Does he not know?

Does Red not know that it was Ludger who—

Of course not. Because Ludger was in his Chromatus form and so unless Ludger or Silver informed Red by now then—

Well. This is officially awkward. He knows something, but he doesn't know if the other person involved has said anything, and is it really his place to say so? But if he doesn't say anything and Red finds out that he knew, would that be just like he's harboring a secret and not being honest? ...Where is the line between keeping quiet about something out of necessity and informing someone also out of necessity?

This. Is the weirdest dilemma he's ever been in and Red is probably going to notice the strange look of realization that spreads over Alvin's face.]

You said you met Ludger yesterday?

[ Red notices, but his mind is already trying to come to some sort of explanation for this. The look, the pause--it's more strange than suspicious, but there's something odd about it too for existing in the first place.

He's questioning if he did meet Ludger yesterday, if they're aren't talking about two different people entirely somehow. ]

...Yeah... [ And he still is as he slowly answers. ] The one with grey hair...with black parts at the front?

[ Right? Right? He'd gesture too if his hands weren't occupied. That chef has some pretty distinct hair (then again, so did Boss Milla...and the other Milla). He saw the chefs more than the waiters, given most of his duties were in cleaning up after them and the plates and cutlery of the customers.

--Wait, hold up, ] Are there two Ludgers working here? Like the Millas?

No. No there aren't. [Least not like that.] ...Oh man. [He runs a hand over his face and through his hair as he takes a few steps to the side, thinking.

How the hell is he supposed to handle this?

If he could just keep secrets like before this would be a no brainer, but no. He's involved with this knowledge and there are a few paths he can take, some more legitimate than others.

One, he can just tell Red right now. Simplest and easiest in the short run. But then he'd have to tell Ludger and who knows how Red would react to the news.

Two, he could stall and have them both talk it out, preferably with him in the room to help mediate and monitor. However, that's still going to leave an awkward situation, and also puts himself in an awkward position of basically placing Red in that situation with full knowledge of what's happening.

Three, he comes up with the most ingenious lie he can come up with despite the fact that he's already made himself look pretty damn suspicious and no one would believe it.

Man he really wishes he could pull three off right now. But no, Red deserves to know. ...Just... Is it through Alvin, Ludger, or someone else?

Well this thought process is really only taking a matter of seconds, so after a longer than usual pause—]

Red, I know what happened to you during Sosyne's attack.

[Looks like it's option one. Sorry, Ludger, but the kid is also in his care in a way, and if he were to pretend to not know about it... Well he's come to the point where he'd actually feel guilty about it.

Damn newly developed sense of morals.]

...And you might want to set that crate down.

Edited 2015-10-21 18:41 (UTC)

[ It's a little too late for that crate, and everything else that was in it.

Because they've turned into little more than ash and a few crystallised fragments of glass, Alvin's announcement the spark strong enough to spread the deterioration without a sign of a flame, even with the suppressed state of emotional manifestations. There was little other alternative to react to the news, though with Cilan it had been easier, somehow. He'd expected it, yet right in this instance--

he's caught off guard entirely.

And tension has a tight grip over his body, eyes fixated on that space between his hands, flicking only to where the remnants of what he held now rest and the particles left dusting his palms. Ah--his emotions. His emotions did that. Because of that suffocating feeling that came out of nowhere and sends a cold panic over his skin, that has the lightbulb returning to its flickering state.

Emotions had that effect around here. He knew that, and hold himself as he laid up for days that that he'd be more careful with them, try and play it fine. It was easier when nobody knew. Nicer.

It would be nice if he could deny Alvin, right now.

But Red knows it's too late. His mind is quick to figure out what this means though, keeping this dread ongoing inside him, letting it sit too long for him and how it'll build up, make things worse. But forcing on a smile onto his face and letting his hands slowly drop, breathing through his nose--it's not about to stop that poor light from struggling to know what to do. ]

I don't want to make a big deal out of it. [ Cheerful, humoured--and every bit hard and unfunny in its delivery. ] I just-- need a while. Some people... [ don't get to come back ] don't get to be as lucky, so I...

[ Don't want to talk about it. ]

Can we talk about something else?

[—Yeah, maybe he should have suggested putting down the crate first. Although he expected more of it being dropped than uh. Incinerated. That's new.

However, he watches Red carefully. He can understand this sentiment. He's just a kid. A kid who died. He's seen a lot of death in his life, starting from the tender young age of six and then seeing it and being part of it for years after. That kind of thing can do a lot to a young mind—he knows.]

We could. [He leans against a pillar.] And I'm not going to press you. But judging from that reaction, I think you do need to talk about it. [...Maybe not where there's a lot of alcohol.] We are going to have to talk about it because I'm indirectly involved. [The fun joys of somehow being related to everything.]

Let's head outside.

[ He absolutely, absolutely does not want to talk about it. Or anything else for that matter, but his feet can agree to walk after a small silence where he does and says nothing, his mind wishing he were somewhere else but there.

Which is exactly what walking helps to achieve, actually. It doesn't stop his heart from feeling like a foreign organ in his chest, and the pokéballs around his waist have begun to shiver under the hems of his sweater. Red goes to pluck off from his belt, not really waiting for Alvin in any manner but not rushing to get out either, but stops himself after remembering what he just did to that crate, and--no, it's likely dangerous enough.

But it doesn't cease waves coming from each one (nearly each one), different sets of emotions mingling and trying to influence his own. A hot defensive anger, a gleeful and sinister excitement; confusion torn between action and upset and a cool ice wanting to placate all the rest like an ocean during a storm stuck between its own calm and upset. He swallows hard against it, distracting him from what Alvin said, heard but not acknowledged.

(Alvin just says a lot of things. What a funny guy, that Alvin. He should really just stop.) ]

Actually, I think we should do this another day. [ It's said once they're both present outside the restaurant, Red's hands going to the back of his neck, elbows out. ] I didn't know I would freak out like that! It wasn't so bad yesterday... I'll have to get a hang on it!

[ It's public, but how much better that the closest around him are things already broken, cracks already formed. ]

Hey, if you want, those drinks-- [ He brings his arms down, but turns his head away. ] You can tell me how much they cost. I'll get you the money, okay? I won't forget, so you should tell me.

Red.

[His voice keeps that quiet, even tone as he just looks down at the boy.

Boy.

As they had been walking boy, each step reminds him how difficult, and more importantly, delicate this entire thing is. Maybe he should just let the kid run. After all, he only knew the kid as an employee. It's not like with Elize or Emizel where he has more personal attachment. It's not like he normally would try to involve himself to begin with. But thanks to a certain do-gooder and his group, that's exactly the kind of path Alvin has found himself following.]

I'm not going to force you. I know this is a lot for you to handle. But I have a pretty strong feeling that you'd rather keep it to yourself to try and "fix it" on your own. What I want to tell you is if you do that, you're just going to self-destruct and make things worse for yourself and for those who care about you.

[ Ah, he's actually too good at this adult thing, using his name to hush him. It's a silence that lingers on a little longer after Alvin's done too, his hands having found each other and a thumb rubbing at the ash covering his palms, sometimes pausing to just sit and press into his skin.

He's trying to think, but it's hard to do that with the pressure of the topic and the noise and people of the city so obviously present. Shoulders still hard yet arms like jelly--

--What did Alvin even say, again?

No, he's sure he remembers the general gist of it. It's only been a few seconds. Don't keep it to yourself, don't self-destruct... ]

I won't-- [ .... ] I can't keep it to myself. That's not going to work. People know.

[ One more than Red had figured would. His fingers curls in and trap his thumb, and he moves them closer to himself. Out of sight. ]

But there's things I have to figure out for myself too. You know. I have to... I can't avoid it, and I can't just think about it all day either. [ That's a sure way to upset the emotional balance of the land. ] I have my pokémon to think about too. They... I'm not the only one.

[ His lips tighten together, eyes even tighter, in a long moment when his heart drops further than he could've anticipated. All this time he was trying to explain himself, but it was all a fumbling mess once it reached his own ears. Nothing sounds convincing, and it makes it difficult to just drop it right there.

So he inhales through his nose again. Takes a moment. Goes in as evenly as he can manage, and clearly stressed: ]

We need time.

["Time."

Yes, Red definitely needs time, and Alvin wants to give it to him. But he is a little relieved to hear that the kid won't be retreating to some dark corner... Or at least, so he says. He'll have to keep an eye on him one way or another, just to be sure.

But seeing how shaken up he is, Alvin decides not to press much further, his stance relaxing. Hell, he kind of feels like giving the kid a hug. But he has to ask one more...very sensitive question because this will affect how things go for all of them, especially for work. Although whatever the answer is, he's of the mind to tell Red not to come until he feels more ready for it.]

Yeah, I know. But...I have to ask this because it's actually important for a number of reasons. [He takes a breath.] Do you want to know who killed you?

[ Should he?

Red doesn't know, and for a while it has nothing to do with the question itself. They both know what they're talking about, but throw in the words 'killed you' in a way that can't be mistaken and it's too raw and personal. If he doesn't answer, then he doesn't have to....

...he doesn't know. Alvin's not about to forget his own question, and it's not going to magically mean it wasn't asked. Still, there's a fight at the back of his throat between the options of keeping his mouth sealed and just getting this over with. He's already doing the first without any satisfaction, and getting it over can be done with a single word, a few more at most.

Fine. ]

...No. I don't. [ And, in case a why comes, when one shouldn't come at all given by the sharp now in his voice: ] It's not important to me.

[An answer he expected, but not one that makes this any easier. All right, he has no choice. Whether this might hurt or sever his relationship with Red, he has to do it. Not for his own sake, but for Red's.]

Maybe not right now, but it could be—and given how I'm involved, I can't just stay quiet about it.

[So with a heavy sigh, he lets out the truth.]

Red, it was Ludger. He was under Sosyne's influence and he wouldn't do that under normal circumstances. We're also already working on how to handle this. But you have to know, Red, because he works here. And if you're not comfortable with that and want to quit, then that's fine. I'd understand.

I just—really believe you should know.

[ No.

No, no no nono-- ]

Don't- [ It's a plea that sticks to Red's throat, trapped between the sudden spike of adrenaline, alarms going off in his head and the larger intake of air.

He's talking, why is he talking. ] Alvin--

[ he

he has to stop it. ]

Shut-- shut up! Shut up, stop it- no!

[ Not interrupted, not without Red's voice rising above his and all attempts at poor façades fall, and a swift kick aimed to one of Alvin's shins when his mind calculates as quick that he's not going to very well reach the man's face in a more satisfactory manner. He's not trained, it could miss, but the attempt is still there before he's screaming at him again, caring no more about anyone nearby or the emotion boiling up yet freezing and melt his own hold over his limbs. ]

I told you! I said no! [ His face is getting hotter, his breathing thicker, suffocating--and when he pulls back his head to with he feet stumbling back, noise stutters and breaks as he inhales.

He trusted him. He trusted him not to-- ]

Why--why? [ They might've not been close, there wasn't reason for him to trust the man; maybe it was his own fault. But it hurts all the same, and why--why was very well in whatever Alvin was saying, what Red already knew. How couldn't he already know from the moment he started asking about working with Ludger, bringing up about his death.

But it's not a why Red's waiting for an answer to, strained and cracked in its delivery, and all the swelling that'd been building in his stomach spills up and out, his sight blurring, his movements as he turns away hard to steer as he walks. Still repeating the question as mumbling just to fill his own ears. He doesn't want to hear why, he doesn't want to hear another word.

He just wants to get away from him, everyone, everything, now, the air thinning around him, the ground softening beneath his feet and his chest heaving. ]

[Fortunately, Alvin is trained to react quickly otherwise that shin kick would have hurt. Although even with the kick, this has clearly taken a very bad turn and he is regretting every single thing he just said.]

Red! I had to! I couldn't just let you work here without you knowing!

[But the kid is already bolting. Whether the kid hears him or if the worlds fall on deaf ears, he doesn't know. But it had been difficult decision for Alvin as well. Keep it a secret and then get ripped for it later, or say it and—well, get this.

Alvin could chase him after him, and he does. He wants to make sure the kid doesn't do anything to hurt himself further. But he also realizes that the real threat for Red right now is him, so doing so would only make things worse. So helpless and unable to do anything, Alvin can only watch the small disappearing back, various emotions and an unwanted sense of deja vu, a sense that he's certainly broken someone's trust in him returning.

But hey, isn't this what he planned for? A contingency plan? To make Red be angry at him and not be around the restaurant and thus spare both individuals? To let himself be the target of animosity instead? Isn't that what he's used to doing?

...Dammit. Dammit.]

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