[Wouldn't it be nice if either one of them could think before they opened their mouths? Or, well... In Ryder's case at least, she thinks an awful lot, just not about what would benefit her to think on. Like, right now she's focusing a lot on "left foot, right foot, feet feet feet" to make sure she doesn't wobble -- which is definitely a worthy cause! -- but her brain lags behind on the conversation they should probably be having. "How many, many feet you meet"... Wait, hm?
Ryder looks over through the curtain of her bangs, chewing on her lip a moment before mumbling. Ahh, how does she ask... Is it normal to ask? To want to know more about that? Is he allowed to talk about that kind of thing? Damn, she can't even figure out how to ask that. Uhhh. Fuck.]
[She's glad for it, though. With how difficult things had been at the beginning, the change in his tone was a relief. He'd been accepting and encouraging, but there had been this little sheen over the top of it that made interacting with him completely intimidating. It's definitely still...hard. For instance, all this keeping track of her feet has her struggling to keep herself from asking how many foot fetishists he'd run into so far. She wants to know, but does she really want to know? Does she really want him to know she wants to know? But she doesn't feel quite as much like praying for death if it happens to slip out, and that's progress. He'd probably just answer her.
The question still catches her offguard, though, to the point that she comes to a complete stop and stares dumbly at his arm. Huh? Oh. Uhhh. Her face is hot again. Words, words... How does she open her mouth and limit it to a metaphorical car crash instead of a metaphorical trainwreck... Ryder jumps a little as someone impatiently pushes through on her other side. She shuffles closer to Teo and starts walking again.]
Um. ...M'okay. Um. [Like, she isn't the most graceful person...and it would probably hit her soon. But it also wasn't enough to make her drunk, she's pretty sure. Plus, looking down when she walks is pretty normal for her, given how much she hates the possibility of meeting someone's eyes and opening a pit to hell, which is absolutely what would happen. So... He doesn't have to...
...Would it be nice to take his arm? Or would it just make her want to scratch her skin off?
Biting down on her lip, Ryder very hesitantly shifts the weight of her food to one arm, tugs at the strap of her clutch, and mentally kicks at the nerves squiggling around her brain and stomach. Her hand is definitely sweaty again. It's a good thing, then, that she's looping her arm with his. Except that feels awkward. Aughhh, she's so unsure. How did girls in movies do this? Mumbled,] Sorry...
[She still looks down at her feet.]
L-like, um... You t-t-talking. [Though...] M's'posed...practice. But I -- but I, um, don't kn-know how...to.
[He's sure he's made a mistake the moment she looks up. He's embarrassed her. He's confusing her. He's throwing her off this way and that and it's not even really helping, just making their walk together a whole other kind of awkward. But pulling away now would make it worse, wouldn't it? What if she thinks he's got some kind of an aversion to her? God, he's stupid.]
No. No, it's okay.
[He's the one who's sorry. It is not actually the worst date he's gone on with a client, but it's ranking up there just for him being an idiot. She stares at her shoes and he stares ahead so they don't just walk right past what they're looking for.
She likes his talking. Hell if he knows why.]
You seem to be doing fine to me. [She's stuttering, yeah, but she is in fact talking. He frowns.]
You're supposed to practice...? That... I'm sorry, this is going to sound rude, I'm really not supposed to ask this, but is that why...?
['Slow feet, Quick feet. Trick feet, Sick feet. Up feet, Down feet. Here come clown feet.'
It's still really good she doesn't have much of a heel on these, but she can't help that pouty feeling of why can't she have that satisfying click? it'd make a nice beat to Dr. Seuss's The Foot Book. It might center her, or something, like a metronome. Right now she's left to flounder like an idiot, a stutter where rhythm could have been. It breaks even further at the question. Hoo boy, yeah, definitely blushing.]
...Mm. [Ryder gives a sharp nod despite the fact that doing so makes her want to disappear.] ...A c-con -- conver -- sssation hostage. And -- I dunno. Um. Not only practice, I-I -- guess. ...Wanted.
[His brows crease in sympathy. He wants to ask, is it really that hard to find someone to talk to? But he doesn't have to look hard at his own life to imagine that, yeah, it could be.
But she also wanted...? She doesn't finish that sentence, leaving him to guess. This is probably not a wise move.]
Well... I was going to tell the service to refund you. Tell them I had to cancel last minute. I mean, given that I kind of ruined the magic here, I think I owe it to you. But... not to mess with your decision or anything, but if you want more... [Read: a bedroom.] ...then I do have to keep it on the tab. Sorry. [He gives an apologetic look.]
But if you want more conversations, I can give you my number.
[She manages to keep walking, probably mostly due to the fact that her arm is linked with his and she has to keep the momentum going or risk being left behind. God, he's tall. Was he this tall before, when they were sitting? She's pretty sure he was not. What the fuck.
-- Ah. But that wasn't what thing she currently wanted to "what the fuck" about. Refund...? But why? She's been falling over herself and reading into things too deeply. He's the one putting up with her dumb requests, just trying to make the best of a shit situation. It wasn't like any of this was his fault. He should get paid! Keep the money on the tab! To do that -- ]
...If I -- [OH.] Oh.
[Oh??? Ohhh my god. When will the gateway to Hell open up beneath her and swallow her whole? Or, like, chomp down when she's mid-fall and bifurcate her. That's the word she wants, right? Bifurcate? Let's think about how to spell that so maybe her blood will remember to stop being on fire.
It doesn't work. She feels dizzy. There's no point to stopping again, because the more they stop, the longer it takes them to get to the park, where they'll finally eat. ...Ryder doesn't know if she can eat, with how she's vaguely sick, now. But you have to take 'em out to dinner first, it's the law. The law leading to Teo doing his job and being properly rewarded for it, just uhh also the law leading to other stuff.
Okay, no. Think about the road less(?) traveled, Ry. That actually does make sense as a name, seeing as path is labeled "CONVERSATION", which is weird because: 1. people don't talk to her. 2. people would rather use their mouths for things other than talking. Sometimes, if things were nice, there would be talking after, but the impression that she's gotten from Heterosexual Media is that guys kind of aren't fans of that, and honestly she had never expected to be in a position to find out for herself, so she didn't bother looking deeper into it. After all, refer back to the first point!
Ugh... Ryder feels exhausted as she wonders if more time has passed than it seems or less, while she figures out which story branch she's selecting today. She doesn't even remember what the point of all that thinking was. It wasn't like she could answer the questions springing up like horrified rabbits without... Something about Teo with a hunting rifle. With a scope. God, she needs to either shut off her brain completely or get someplace they can sit.]
[He winces and only does so more as she goes beat red. She's probably humiliated over the thought of him. It's not as if she knew what she'd be getting when she called the service. And after the way things have been going...
He feels sorry for speaking. He feels sorry for existing. But unfortunately for everyone, he's here and she's in this situation and he's got to be clear, even if it's harrowing.
His own cheeks color and he shrugs a little helplessly. He keeps himself from glancing away by focusing on the path ahead.]
Ah, safety issue. You know, if one of the escorts gets sick or hurt, good to know what happened where so that others don't get the same, you know...? But, I mean, for legal reasons it'll probably just say "massage"...
[At least, he assumes that's what she's asking 'why' about. He thinks the reason for refunding is pretty obvious. Does she feel wooed? Because she certainly doesn't look like it.]
[She starts to think she's having a stroke, being poisoned, or suffering from oxygen deprivation when she doesn't understand what the fuck he's talking about, but a few more words and it clicks. Understanding does nothing to help ease the panicked, embarrassed look of a girl who is unbelievably lost.]
Um. I -- um. Uh.
[ f u c k . ]
Gim... G-gim -- m-me... [She takes a deep breath and tightens her hold on him in order to bring her arm closer to herself. Now she's closer to him, too... It's fine. It'll be okay as long as -- ] Don't -- talk until -- um. C-can't talk until we get to th'park... Um, me. Nnnot you, if...
[As long as he doesn't expect anything out of her, because she's busy screaming and chasing a chicken around her skull, then sweeping up the feathers it left behind... For all intents and purposes, Ryder has left the building that is her brain. She is a shut down, hollow being walking on automatic until they finally reach a spot that she can sit on the fucking grass. Ryder falls back, eyes closing before she throws an arm over them.]
Fuuuck.
[She's considerably calmer now, if exhausted. Her boxes of food are resting on her stomach, making her wish they were a bit hotter so she could soak up some comfort through it, or something.]
I d-don't want -- you not getting paid. I'm -- I'm grateful. Even though s'like this. I didn't think, um... I-I dunno. Talking isn't terrible. Just, um, can't. S'hard to s-say...everything? Sound -- um.
[She sounds like an unhinged idiot, in her opinion. He's see,Ed unbothered by that, except when it causes a communication error. If she can stop shifting out so much...]
Don't know what to do. Never done a-anything -- like any of this. Don't know why you'd -- offer more. Numbers. Other s-stuff.
[His mouth presses. His brows furrow and he lets her stammer. Yeah, he can understand why that might be too much information even if she did (in his mind) ask.
She commands him not to talk and he's not even hurt. He just nods his head and does as he's told. No talking. Okay. That's cool. That's fine. He withholds the impulsive apology that sits on the tip of his tongue.
At last, they reach that park. He lays out his half of the bounty and helps to organize hers by carefully plucking them off her. Picnic time. And cursing in the grass. Why not?]
I mean... if you're sure. [He supposes it's time to talk again.] Just think you shouldn't have to pay for a conversation.
[He thinks he understands what she means, but in a roundabout sort of way, so he doesn't want to just go and say that. Instead, he just nods. And then shrugs off her confusion. He keeps his eyes down on his setup.]
I guess it's pretty lame of me to say, but, I don't really have a lot of people to talk to and clients really don't count. They're not actually interested in me. Which, I mean, you're a client but, what I'm trying to say is, if you're looking for conversation, that's cool, because I'd like that too. Gets... gets kinda lonely sometimes, you know? Would be nice to have a friend.
[Maybe he's right in that conversation shouldn't have to be paid for, but at the same time...it had been impossible for her to have a real conversation with someone other than her damn mother without paying for it. It doesn't matter that half the reason for it was self-inflicted if it didn't change the outcome. That's just the way it is.
Ryder chews her lip as she listens, letting him have his own time to think through things like he'd given her. Eventually she shifts onto her side, propping up with an elbow and watching the way he sets up. Better at this than her -- but that's not exactly much of a surprise. It's social and has to do with food. Of course he'd...not...have a lot of people to talk to...? Huh? Ryder frowns up to him, her teeth sinking further into her lip the longer she stews. He was with people for a living. He spoke easily, smiled like he meant it, and was accommodating. Who wouldn't want to talk to him? Though...customers didn't count. Why wouldn't they count?]
'Underneath my outside face There's a face that none can see. A little less smiley, A little less sure, But a whole lot more like me.'
[The voice is quiet the way Ryder's is, but smooth in a way that makes it almost confident in spite of the softness. Her lip hurts, now that she's done abusing it. Her chest kind of hurts, too. Did he have an Underface...?]
[His hands slow and pause. His face seems to go momentarily blank, hollowed out. Then, his brain kicks back into gear as he realizes she just recited a poem without any bit of stuttering at all and he looks up at her in surprise.]
You just... You just did that from memory?
[Or she made it up, which is even more impressive, but either way, not actually the thing he's surprised over. Not the main thing anyway. There might be a few things here, like the words themselves.
A whole lot more like-- A faint nervous laugh escapes and he turns his gaze back down to finish up.]
Yeah, I guess it's... something like that. I'm not me for the clients. I'm whoever they want me to be. Whatever they want. And I do my best to match that.
[Not just for the clients, that nasty voice in his head sneers.]
It's never a long-term thing, usually just an evening, maybe two, so it's not actually that hard to keep up. Usually.
[She doesn't think to be flustered until he says something, and then it feels like she's swallowed her tongue. What the fuck did she just do? What a fucking freak-ass choice she just made? Good fucking lord. Ryder ducks her head and uses her free hand to nervously comb her bangs while she struggles to keep herself from emitting a stream of muttered curses.
So focused on that and working out her excuse of why she thinks it's neat to spout children's poems out of nowhere, Ryder doesn't keep the next thought from popping out of her dumbass mouth.]
Y-you mean keep it -- up. Bang it o --
[JESUS WHAT IS SHE DOING, this girl's just gonna let out a strangled squeal and bury her face in her hands, too mortified to live.]
[Just as he thinks she's hit some emotional core of him, unveiled the beginnings of an ugly truth he likes to hide, and surprised him on top of that, she turns rights around with a joke about fucking.
He sputters a little, torn between laughter and embarrassment and maybe even some actual shame.]
I'm definitely not allowed to answer that. But for the record, in my personal life, no, I don't have a problem with anything in bed.
[Not shame because he's slept around, of course, but shame over thinking, for a moment, that the lifting of masks was something he could talk about. What an absolute moron. What a stupid fucking idiot.
He tries to plaster a grin over the twisted and hurt look that almost got out. He'd say he does a pretty good job of it.]
[She doesn't know why he continues putting up with her -- oh, right. The money. He'd already been willing to abandon it before, though... Ugh, hes so confusing. She doesn't understand people at all. Ryder makes some other kind of whine and waits for her mortification to bubble away. She tries not to let his laughter get to her this time. She did make a joke! She's supposed to be over the moon that her "date" laughed!]
I dunno h-how you can -- [He's so blatant and confident about it! What the fuck?
'A little less smiley, A little less sure,'
She'd literally just said it. With a groan, Ryder pinches the bridge of her nose.]
God. Nnnever -- m-mind.
[Even if she could say this plan was successful, she doesn't think she'd have enough experience to figure this shit out. Social situations...hard.]
Um. Food. [Now that her cover's blown... She looks at what they managed to score and unpack, hesitantly hovering her hand above a box. Ah. Silverware.
...She produces two pens from her purse and clumsily tries to fashion them into chopsticks. If all else fails, she can stab the food. She just...doesn't want to gross him out by shoving her hand in like some zombie eager for organs.] W-what -- what w-would, um, a n-normal person say? How can I have, um, a better, um. Outside f-face? Like y-you.
[He lifts a brow, questioning, but she doesn't finish. She brushes it all off and he gives a shrug. Suit herself!
But right. Food. And he comes to the same unfortunate conclusion she does. Well. Aside the pen chopsticks, that is. That gets a faint look of horror.]
Please don't poison yourself with pen ink.
[He pauses.]
I don't know if that's a normal person thing to say, I'd just really prefer it.
[Outside faces. Boy. He looks up at the sky, frowning, as if he can scry and answer from the clouds.]
I guess I... try and figure out what people want? What they want to hear or see or... whatever. And then see how much of that can still be me. Which sounds like a lot of work, but I don't know if I think about it.
[Her tone is flat and grim, a picture of some dark witch that has long-accepted her cursed fate, and lacks the same stutter as before. Sometimes you just say shit without thinking before you ever have a chance to stumble. It doesn't seem like she has any qualms about possibly eating ink or even getting poisoned, though. Ryder...unfortunately does not seem to be inclined to find a solution for Teo without any prompting, either.
Maybe she's too focused on his advice. She's certainly digesting it with a deep frown interrupted by a bite of food.]
I don't -- unders-stand what -- what people want. Or I can't -- be th-that. Mmm -- m'just...n-not. Espe-especially nnot without thinking. I'm not like you w-where -- I-I can't be nice, o-or... No one would -- want -- th-things from mmme. That...stuff. Dunno if I could, ev-ven.
...That sounds really cool, and fitting, but also, if you get sick from ink poisoning, I'm going to be fired, and also it will hurt me as a chef and probably also as a person.
[So. Hopefully she's cautious and nothing of the sort happens. Hopefully.
He makes a mental note to himself to have cutlery on hand in the future.
He listens and his head starts to tilt, especially as she trails off.]
Um, well. If you're thinking that far, that's probably not good. Better to start smaller. Like friends? Acquaintances? And, you know, practicing. There's gotta be someone you know and talk to, right? Any family?
[For a moment, she brightens a little as he calls her -- or her proposed self, anyway -- cool. Then he goes on like a logical person and her nose wrinkles with disappointment. She pours, though she doesn't have it in her to direct it at him specifically, while she mumbles.]
Not your business... Howsit -- y'r fault if I-I get -- sick?
[Like, unless it was a sex thing, which they'd kind of already established was on her. Not that a doctor would see it that way. Or would they? Hm. It would be hard to choose who to blame between the sex worker and the trans person for some people, huh? Cheery thoughts.
Oh hey, some actual cheery thoughts! Even though the admission is making her blush before it's even out of her mouth. Well, she's already destroyed any chance of Teo thinking she's at all not a pathetic freak, so...]
...Mm. My -- m-mom. She's my best -- ...She'smy only friend.
[His brows furrow, as if she's just tossed a riddle his way.]
W- b- Because... because I'm here...?
[He's not sure how it wouldn't be his fault, his responsibility, if she got sick now. He could've done something and didn't. That makes it objectively his fault. It also makes him feel anxious and vaguely ill himself just thinking about it.
Probably best to just let that go for the moment. He sees her flush-- and it's cute, but it also does a good job of bracing him for the answer.
He doesn't laugh. There's a pang of envy he swallows down. Then he smiles, speaking softer.]
That's a pretty cool thing to have. A lot of people can't stand their parents.
[There they are, two baffled idiots that are unable to comprehend what is the truth of the matter. There's...some kind of law that would protect him, right? It doesn't matter that she can't think of the word for it -- Samaritan! she'll exclaim to herself later in triumph -- because they're moving on. Whatever the misunderstandings, they can agree that she won't be getting sick...and Mom is a way better topic, as embarrassing as it all is.]
M-mm. Said she's -- my best friend. 'Course we talk. She -- helped. At th-the restaurant... Um, not that she -- knows. Um. About this. [...Whatever this is, now.] I'd die. Um... S'different, though. From -- from talking to people. She's'my mom.
[The bummer about her chopsticks being pens (and having dismissed getting sick) is that she can't bite down with her teeth in an effort to destroy them like they symbolize her feelings. That would make ink go everywhere, and this ink wasn't like squid ink. Or was it? No, it couldn't be, even if she doesn't know what the different would be, except that one might be edible. Ryder makes a mental note to read about squids when she gets home and sleeps off the trauma of having a conversation. Even if he's smiling that weird, charming smile of his...]
Y-you think -- s'dumb.
[He thinks she's dumb... A truly pathetic, useless creature -- and she can't say he's wrong. Ryder glues her gaze to her meal, letting her stomach have a minute to decide whether it's going to roll over and die anytime soon, or if it can go on through the shame and let her eat.
She's just not trying hard enough. She just needs to smile more. She should think more positively, and then she'll see that it was easy, actually. Her way was wrong. She was wrong.
Ryder sighs, nudging different bits of her food to separate it. She couldn't be a chameleon like him, if it was that "easy".]
...I know s'not nnnormal.
[It isn't like she doesn't want to have more than one person she can stomach being close to, or who wants to listen to her. It really sucks that the closest to that she feels is the occasional, sometime anonymous, kudos on her fics. Praise without a face she could reread whenever she wanted because she spat out something a little clever or tender despite not being either.]
...Sh-she's in, um, a different state, anyway. Um... Sometimes -- want...someone with you. R-right...?
[Is that at least normal? Will that make her understandable?]
[She doesn't lash out at him but he imagines he'd have deserved it if she did. A sickly feeling of guilt settles in his guts. His hands lower back down.]
No... Im sorry. That was a shitty thing for me to say. I wouldn't even know what that's like, so, I couldn't judge.
[He doesn't know anything about normal. This serves him for acting like he does. As if he can help anyone else. He nods, feeling dumb and feeling that stupid old ache.]
A friend. Someone who gets things. So it doesn't have to be her. I guess I was just trying to say... maybe if you pretended the other people were like her, it'd be easier. Maybe.
[She should start giving him an additional $20 every time she makes him apologize, Ryder thinks briefly, then after giving it a couple seconds more to settle, she adjusts it down to $1. This outing wasn't exactly gentle on her bank account, and he'd had to apologize for plenty of things that weren't his fault already. There's no need to go completely broke. Depending on how many more times it happens, she'll have to decide how seriously she wants to stick to this silent resolution.]
Nnn... She knows -- everything. Almost. [Again, what Ryder's decided to spend her money on this evening is going to stay private. For the next ten years, at least. After that, maybe? It was tough to keep secrets from Mom, even if they were mortifying. She'd...done everything she could for her. Of course Ryder would try to give everything back.
She'd probably prefer a new computer, though. Hm.] Don't think anyo-one can be liiike her.
[It really...makes a thought hit harder, and she frowns while she chews. Besides, it's starting to dawn on her that the parent talk is kind of bumming him out, maybe? That...isn't a surprise. Is it rude that she thinks "unhappy childhood" is a more than understandable backstory for a sex worker?]
Flaw -- in th-the human 'sperience. Can't t-t-talk unless they're -- friend. N-need to talk to mmm...mmake friends.
[Except...]
It's -- You, um. Th-that's not -- pity? You a-asked...before. About m-maybe being one.
[The F word she was just saying, but now feels like the verbal equivalent of skydiving with a child's kite.]
...You know I'm l-like th-this. I gave you -- outs. S-so maybe, um. Uh, but! I mean, I -- could try. S-so you m-might, um. [Oh god, what was she trying to say? Fuck, something something solidarity, or...something? That's too many somethings!] If you real-really didn't mind, then we...talk. H-how we're s'posed to.
[Except that it loops right back around to this guy being a stranger, she doesn't know him at all, if he knows her he won't want to be by her, a stranger was better, that's why she'd done this, but how was she supposed to be able to talk to him like he was anything like her mom, and how was she supposed to show him anything like that in return for his kindness she's buying?]
Fuck, my head hurts... [Thinking is hard. It's hard for the opposite reason as talking. Just...do the reverse. Reverse. Ryder squeezes her eyes shut and softly, swiftly mutters,] Don't laugh.
'I said, "I'll take the T-bone steak." A soft voice mooed, "Oh, wow." And I looked up and realized The waitress was a cow.
I cried, "Mistake -- forget the steak. I'll take the chicken then." I heard a cluck -- ''twas just my luck The busboy was a hen.
I said, "Okay, no fowl today. I'll have the seafood dish." Then I saw through the kitchen door The cook -- he was a fish.'
[She feels her thoughts calm and ebb enough to stop focusing on rattling the poem off, though while her face relaxes to show as much, she still doesn't open her eyes just yet. Less getting stuck in a loop.]
Okay. Okay. S'good. The, um, f-food. I d -- um, sorry if nothing's like what -- what y-you wanted.
[...also the...cutlery... It'll probably click in a second.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storywalks) wrote2022-03-03 11:13 pm
no subject
Ryder looks over through the curtain of her bangs, chewing on her lip a moment before mumbling. Ahh, how does she ask... Is it normal to ask? To want to know more about that? Is he allowed to talk about that kind of thing? Damn, she can't even figure out how to ask that. Uhhh. Fuck.]
Do -- s'fun? Um... Normally.
no subject
His head tilts up in thought, then he nods.]
Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes it's just work, sometimes it's weird, but generally, it's pretty good. Though I'm not usually this... candid, I guess.
[He smiles wry, then at last, offers his arm.]
You okay there?
no subject
[She's glad for it, though. With how difficult things had been at the beginning, the change in his tone was a relief. He'd been accepting and encouraging, but there had been this little sheen over the top of it that made interacting with him completely intimidating. It's definitely still...hard. For instance, all this keeping track of her feet has her struggling to keep herself from asking how many foot fetishists he'd run into so far. She wants to know, but does she really want to know? Does she really want him to know she wants to know? But she doesn't feel quite as much like praying for death if it happens to slip out, and that's progress. He'd probably just answer her.
The question still catches her offguard, though, to the point that she comes to a complete stop and stares dumbly at his arm. Huh? Oh. Uhhh. Her face is hot again. Words, words... How does she open her mouth and limit it to a metaphorical car crash instead of a metaphorical trainwreck... Ryder jumps a little as someone impatiently pushes through on her other side. She shuffles closer to Teo and starts walking again.]
Um. ...M'okay. Um. [Like, she isn't the most graceful person...and it would probably hit her soon. But it also wasn't enough to make her drunk, she's pretty sure. Plus, looking down when she walks is pretty normal for her, given how much she hates the possibility of meeting someone's eyes and opening a pit to hell, which is absolutely what would happen. So... He doesn't have to...
...Would it be nice to take his arm? Or would it just make her want to scratch her skin off?
Biting down on her lip, Ryder very hesitantly shifts the weight of her food to one arm, tugs at the strap of her clutch, and mentally kicks at the nerves squiggling around her brain and stomach. Her hand is definitely sweaty again. It's a good thing, then, that she's looping her arm with his. Except that feels awkward. Aughhh, she's so unsure. How did girls in movies do this? Mumbled,] Sorry...
[She still looks down at her feet.]
L-like, um... You t-t-talking. [Though...] M's'posed...practice. But I -- but I, um, don't kn-know how...to.
no subject
No. No, it's okay.
[He's the one who's sorry. It is not actually the worst date he's gone on with a client, but it's ranking up there just for him being an idiot. She stares at her shoes and he stares ahead so they don't just walk right past what they're looking for.
She likes his talking. Hell if he knows why.]
You seem to be doing fine to me. [She's stuttering, yeah, but she is in fact talking. He frowns.]
You're supposed to practice...? That... I'm sorry, this is going to sound rude, I'm really not supposed to ask this, but is that why...?
no subject
Trick feet, Sick feet.
Up feet, Down feet.
Here come clown feet.'
It's still really good she doesn't have much of a heel on these, but she can't help that pouty feeling of why can't she have that satisfying click? it'd make a nice beat to Dr. Seuss's The Foot Book. It might center her, or something, like a metronome. Right now she's left to flounder like an idiot, a stutter where rhythm could have been. It breaks even further at the question. Hoo boy, yeah, definitely blushing.]
...Mm. [Ryder gives a sharp nod despite the fact that doing so makes her want to disappear.] ...A c-con -- conver -- sssation hostage. And -- I dunno. Um. Not only practice, I-I -- guess. ...Wanted.
no subject
But she also wanted...? She doesn't finish that sentence, leaving him to guess. This is probably not a wise move.]
Well... I was going to tell the service to refund you. Tell them I had to cancel last minute. I mean, given that I kind of ruined the magic here, I think I owe it to you. But... not to mess with your decision or anything, but if you want more... [Read: a bedroom.] ...then I do have to keep it on the tab. Sorry. [He gives an apologetic look.]
But if you want more conversations, I can give you my number.
no subject
-- Ah. But that wasn't what thing she currently wanted to "what the fuck" about. Refund...? But why? She's been falling over herself and reading into things too deeply. He's the one putting up with her dumb requests, just trying to make the best of a shit situation. It wasn't like any of this was his fault. He should get paid! Keep the money on the tab! To do that -- ]
...If I -- [OH.] Oh.
[Oh??? Ohhh my god. When will the gateway to Hell open up beneath her and swallow her whole? Or, like, chomp down when she's mid-fall and bifurcate her. That's the word she wants, right? Bifurcate? Let's think about how to spell that so maybe her blood will remember to stop being on fire.
It doesn't work. She feels dizzy. There's no point to stopping again, because the more they stop, the longer it takes them to get to the park, where they'll finally eat. ...Ryder doesn't know if she can eat, with how she's vaguely sick, now. But you have to take 'em out to dinner first, it's the law. The law leading to Teo doing his job and being properly rewarded for it, just uhh also the law leading to other stuff.
Okay, no. Think about the road less(?) traveled, Ry. That actually does make sense as a name, seeing as path is labeled "CONVERSATION", which is weird because:
1. people don't talk to her.
2. people would rather use their mouths for things other than talking. Sometimes, if things were nice, there would be talking after, but the impression that she's gotten from Heterosexual Media is that guys kind of aren't fans of that, and honestly she had never expected to be in a position to find out for herself, so she didn't bother looking deeper into it. After all, refer back to the first point!
Ugh... Ryder feels exhausted as she wonders if more time has passed than it seems or less, while she figures out which story branch she's selecting today. She doesn't even remember what the point of all that thinking was. It wasn't like she could answer the questions springing up like horrified rabbits without... Something about Teo with a hunting rifle. With a scope. God, she needs to either shut off her brain completely or get someplace they can sit.]
W...why?
no subject
He feels sorry for speaking. He feels sorry for existing. But unfortunately for everyone, he's here and she's in this situation and he's got to be clear, even if it's harrowing.
His own cheeks color and he shrugs a little helplessly. He keeps himself from glancing away by focusing on the path ahead.]
Ah, safety issue. You know, if one of the escorts gets sick or hurt, good to know what happened where so that others don't get the same, you know...? But, I mean, for legal reasons it'll probably just say "massage"...
[At least, he assumes that's what she's asking 'why' about. He thinks the reason for refunding is pretty obvious. Does she feel wooed? Because she certainly doesn't look like it.]
no subject
Um. I -- um. Uh.
[ f u c k . ]
Gim... G-gim -- m-me... [She takes a deep breath and tightens her hold on him in order to bring her arm closer to herself. Now she's closer to him, too... It's fine. It'll be okay as long as -- ] Don't -- talk until -- um. C-can't talk until we get to th'park... Um, me. Nnnot you, if...
[As long as he doesn't expect anything out of her, because she's busy screaming and chasing a chicken around her skull, then sweeping up the feathers it left behind... For all intents and purposes, Ryder has left the building that is her brain. She is a shut down, hollow being walking on automatic until they finally reach a spot that she can sit on the fucking grass. Ryder falls back, eyes closing before she throws an arm over them.]
Fuuuck.
[She's considerably calmer now, if exhausted. Her boxes of food are resting on her stomach, making her wish they were a bit hotter so she could soak up some comfort through it, or something.]
I d-don't want -- you not getting paid. I'm -- I'm grateful. Even though s'like this. I didn't think, um... I-I dunno. Talking isn't terrible. Just, um, can't. S'hard to s-say...everything? Sound -- um.
[She sounds like an unhinged idiot, in her opinion. He's see,Ed unbothered by that, except when it causes a communication error. If she can stop shifting out so much...]
Don't know what to do. Never done a-anything -- like any of this. Don't know why you'd -- offer more. Numbers. Other s-stuff.
no subject
She commands him not to talk and he's not even hurt. He just nods his head and does as he's told. No talking. Okay. That's cool. That's fine. He withholds the impulsive apology that sits on the tip of his tongue.
At last, they reach that park. He lays out his half of the bounty and helps to organize hers by carefully plucking them off her. Picnic time. And cursing in the grass. Why not?]
I mean... if you're sure. [He supposes it's time to talk again.] Just think you shouldn't have to pay for a conversation.
[He thinks he understands what she means, but in a roundabout sort of way, so he doesn't want to just go and say that. Instead, he just nods. And then shrugs off her confusion. He keeps his eyes down on his setup.]
I guess it's pretty lame of me to say, but, I don't really have a lot of people to talk to and clients really don't count. They're not actually interested in me. Which, I mean, you're a client but, what I'm trying to say is, if you're looking for conversation, that's cool, because I'd like that too. Gets... gets kinda lonely sometimes, you know? Would be nice to have a friend.
no subject
Ryder chews her lip as she listens, letting him have his own time to think through things like he'd given her. Eventually she shifts onto her side, propping up with an elbow and watching the way he sets up. Better at this than her -- but that's not exactly much of a surprise. It's social and has to do with food. Of course he'd...not...have a lot of people to talk to...? Huh? Ryder frowns up to him, her teeth sinking further into her lip the longer she stews. He was with people for a living. He spoke easily, smiled like he meant it, and was accommodating. Who wouldn't want to talk to him? Though...customers didn't count. Why wouldn't they count?]
'Underneath my outside face
There's a face that none can see.
A little less smiley,
A little less sure,
But a whole lot more like me.'
[The voice is quiet the way Ryder's is, but smooth in a way that makes it almost confident in spite of the softness. Her lip hurts, now that she's done abusing it. Her chest kind of hurts, too. Did he have an Underface...?]
no subject
You just... You just did that from memory?
[Or she made it up, which is even more impressive, but either way, not actually the thing he's surprised over. Not the main thing anyway. There might be a few things here, like the words themselves.
A whole lot more like-- A faint nervous laugh escapes and he turns his gaze back down to finish up.]
Yeah, I guess it's... something like that. I'm not me for the clients. I'm whoever they want me to be. Whatever they want. And I do my best to match that.
[Not just for the clients, that nasty voice in his head sneers.]
It's never a long-term thing, usually just an evening, maybe two, so it's not actually that hard to keep up. Usually.
no subject
So focused on that and working out her excuse of why she thinks it's neat to spout children's poems out of nowhere, Ryder doesn't keep the next thought from popping out of her dumbass mouth.]
Y-you mean keep it -- up. Bang it o --
[JESUS WHAT IS SHE DOING, this girl's just gonna let out a strangled squeal and bury her face in her hands, too mortified to live.]
no subject
He sputters a little, torn between laughter and embarrassment and maybe even some actual shame.]
I'm definitely not allowed to answer that. But for the record, in my personal life, no, I don't have a problem with anything in bed.
[Not shame because he's slept around, of course, but shame over thinking, for a moment, that the lifting of masks was something he could talk about. What an absolute moron. What a stupid fucking idiot.
He tries to plaster a grin over the twisted and hurt look that almost got out. He'd say he does a pretty good job of it.]
no subject
I dunno h-how you can -- [He's so blatant and confident about it! What the fuck?
'A little less smiley,
A little less sure,'
She'd literally just said it. With a groan, Ryder pinches the bridge of her nose.]
God. Nnnever -- m-mind.
[Even if she could say this plan was successful, she doesn't think she'd have enough experience to figure this shit out. Social situations...hard.]
Um. Food. [Now that her cover's blown... She looks at what they managed to score and unpack, hesitantly hovering her hand above a box. Ah. Silverware.
...She produces two pens from her purse and clumsily tries to fashion them into chopsticks. If all else fails, she can stab the food. She just...doesn't want to gross him out by shoving her hand in like some zombie eager for organs.] W-what -- what w-would, um, a n-normal person say? How can I have, um, a better, um. Outside f-face? Like y-you.
no subject
But right. Food. And he comes to the same unfortunate conclusion she does. Well. Aside the pen chopsticks, that is. That gets a faint look of horror.]
Please don't poison yourself with pen ink.
[He pauses.]
I don't know if that's a normal person thing to say, I'd just really prefer it.
[Outside faces. Boy. He looks up at the sky, frowning, as if he can scry and answer from the clouds.]
I guess I... try and figure out what people want? What they want to hear or see or... whatever. And then see how much of that can still be me. Which sounds like a lot of work, but I don't know if I think about it.
no subject
[Her tone is flat and grim, a picture of some dark witch that has long-accepted her cursed fate, and lacks the same stutter as before. Sometimes you just say shit without thinking before you ever have a chance to stumble. It doesn't seem like she has any qualms about possibly eating ink or even getting poisoned, though. Ryder...unfortunately does not seem to be inclined to find a solution for Teo without any prompting, either.
Maybe she's too focused on his advice. She's certainly digesting it with a deep frown interrupted by a bite of food.]
I don't -- unders-stand what -- what people want. Or I can't -- be th-that. Mmm -- m'just...n-not. Espe-especially nnot without thinking. I'm not like you w-where -- I-I can't be nice, o-or... No one would -- want -- th-things from mmme. That...stuff. Dunno if I could, ev-ven.
no subject
[So. Hopefully she's cautious and nothing of the sort happens. Hopefully.
He makes a mental note to himself to have cutlery on hand in the future.
He listens and his head starts to tilt, especially as she trails off.]
Um, well. If you're thinking that far, that's probably not good. Better to start smaller. Like friends? Acquaintances? And, you know, practicing. There's gotta be someone you know and talk to, right? Any family?
no subject
Not your business... Howsit -- y'r fault if I-I get -- sick?
[Like, unless it was a sex thing, which they'd kind of already established was on her. Not that a doctor would see it that way. Or would they? Hm. It would be hard to choose who to blame between the sex worker and the trans person for some people, huh? Cheery thoughts.
Oh hey, some actual cheery thoughts! Even though the admission is making her blush before it's even out of her mouth. Well, she's already destroyed any chance of Teo thinking she's at all not a pathetic freak, so...]
...Mm. My -- m-mom. She's my best -- ...She'smy only friend.
no subject
W- b- Because... because I'm here...?
[He's not sure how it wouldn't be his fault, his responsibility, if she got sick now. He could've done something and didn't. That makes it objectively his fault. It also makes him feel anxious and vaguely ill himself just thinking about it.
Probably best to just let that go for the moment. He sees her flush-- and it's cute, but it also does a good job of bracing him for the answer.
He doesn't laugh. There's a pang of envy he swallows down. Then he smiles, speaking softer.]
That's a pretty cool thing to have. A lot of people can't stand their parents.
[Or the other way around, or--]
So, you talk with her?
no subject
M-mm. Said she's -- my best friend. 'Course we talk. She -- helped. At th-the restaurant... Um, not that she -- knows. Um. About this. [...Whatever this is, now.] I'd die. Um... S'different, though. From -- from talking to people. She's'my mom.
no subject
You're mom's not people?
[Of course, that's not what she means. Probably. But he had to get the teasing out of the way.]
no subject
Y-you think -- s'dumb.
[He thinks she's dumb... A truly pathetic, useless creature -- and she can't say he's wrong. Ryder glues her gaze to her meal, letting her stomach have a minute to decide whether it's going to roll over and die anytime soon, or if it can go on through the shame and let her eat.
She's just not trying hard enough. She just needs to smile more. She should think more positively, and then she'll see that it was easy, actually. Her way was wrong. She was wrong.
Ryder sighs, nudging different bits of her food to separate it. She couldn't be a chameleon like him, if it was that "easy".]
...I know s'not nnnormal.
[It isn't like she doesn't want to have more than one person she can stomach being close to, or who wants to listen to her. It really sucks that the closest to that she feels is the occasional, sometime anonymous, kudos on her fics. Praise without a face she could reread whenever she wanted because she spat out something a little clever or tender despite not being either.]
...Sh-she's in, um, a different state, anyway. Um... Sometimes -- want...someone with you. R-right...?
[Is that at least normal? Will that make her understandable?]
no subject
N-no!
[She doesn't lash out at him but he imagines he'd have deserved it if she did. A sickly feeling of guilt settles in his guts. His hands lower back down.]
No... Im sorry. That was a shitty thing for me to say. I wouldn't even know what that's like, so, I couldn't judge.
[He doesn't know anything about normal. This serves him for acting like he does. As if he can help anyone else. He nods, feeling dumb and feeling that stupid old ache.]
A friend. Someone who gets things. So it doesn't have to be her. I guess I was just trying to say... maybe if you pretended the other people were like her, it'd be easier. Maybe.
no subject
Nnn... She knows -- everything. Almost. [Again, what Ryder's decided to spend her money on this evening is going to stay private. For the next ten years, at least. After that, maybe? It was tough to keep secrets from Mom, even if they were mortifying. She'd...done everything she could for her. Of course Ryder would try to give everything back.
She'd probably prefer a new computer, though. Hm.] Don't think anyo-one can be liiike her.
[It really...makes a thought hit harder, and she frowns while she chews. Besides, it's starting to dawn on her that the parent talk is kind of bumming him out, maybe? That...isn't a surprise. Is it rude that she thinks "unhappy childhood" is a more than understandable backstory for a sex worker?]
Flaw -- in th-the human 'sperience. Can't t-t-talk unless they're -- friend. N-need to talk to mmm...mmake friends.
[Except...]
It's -- You, um. Th-that's not -- pity? You a-asked...before. About m-maybe being one.
[The F word she was just saying, but now feels like the verbal equivalent of skydiving with a child's kite.]
...You know I'm l-like th-this. I gave you -- outs. S-so maybe, um. Uh, but! I mean, I -- could try. S-so you m-might, um. [Oh god, what was she trying to say? Fuck, something something solidarity, or...something? That's too many somethings!] If you real-really didn't mind, then we...talk. H-how we're s'posed to.
[Except that it loops right back around to this guy being a stranger, she doesn't know him at all, if he knows her he won't want to be by her, a stranger was better, that's why she'd done this, but how was she supposed to be able to talk to him like he was anything like her mom, and how was she supposed to show him anything like that in return for his kindness she's buying?]
Fuck, my head hurts... [Thinking is hard. It's hard for the opposite reason as talking. Just...do the reverse. Reverse. Ryder squeezes her eyes shut and softly, swiftly mutters,] Don't laugh.
'I said, "I'll take the T-bone steak."
A soft voice mooed, "Oh, wow."
And I looked up and realized
The waitress was a cow.
I cried, "Mistake -- forget the steak.
I'll take the chicken then."
I heard a cluck -- ''twas just my luck
The busboy was a hen.
I said, "Okay, no fowl today.
I'll have the seafood dish."
Then I saw through the kitchen door
The cook -- he was a fish.'
[She feels her thoughts calm and ebb enough to stop focusing on rattling the poem off, though while her face relaxes to show as much, she still doesn't open her eyes just yet. Less getting stuck in a loop.]
Okay. Okay. S'good. The, um, f-food. I d -- um, sorry if nothing's like what -- what y-you wanted.
[...also the...cutlery... It'll probably click in a second.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)