Do you wanna talk about it? [He scootches in closer, so he can sit beside them and wrap his whole arm around their shoulders. The night may be a bit chilly but he's disgustingly warm and only wearing a hooded singlet.] Or do you just want me to carry you back?
[Gil can do a hundred pounds without breaking a sweat. He's delicate in picking them up, almost like he's afraid to break them - his hand glosses over their port but he ignores it, scooping them up princess style so he can stand up straight and shift them to just one arm, balanced easily against their chest and at the perfect height to drape themself over his shoulder. He scoops the strap of the messenger bag with his foot so he can pick it up and sling it over his free shoulder, but hey: now he's carrying Coda.]
You don't have to, if you're freaking out. Because you seem like you're still freaking out a lot.
I think I'm going to be freaking out for a while. I...I can't even, Gil.
[But the warm embrace of a kind Ogre is helping just a little. They snug in comfortably, and they close their eyes, and almost seem to turn off the display unit, letting him take them wherever he wants.]
Yeah, I'm not surprised. Take as long as you need.
[And when they tuck in against him, he rests his chin on their head to give them that little bit more. His pace is a slow, even rhythm, and the swishing of his Mantle almost sounds like gentle washes of rain on the concrete.
He's certainly not going to keep trying to talk to them. But when his arm starts getting a little sore, about three or four blocks in, he gently adjusts them so he's carrying them pressed to his chest, and tucks his muzzle into the crook of their neck - partially so he can still see, mostly to keep maintaining that maximum touch.
At this pace it'll be quite a while to get back. But he's not fussed.]
[They're not asleep. They're still aware of every step and every sound. They just don't have the spare processing power to pretend to be a person at the same time.
And don't tell anyone, but they needed to be held, long before any of this happened.]
[It takes the better part of an hour, to finally make it back to Qubit House. Gil's a horrifically fast runner and the way back is a long one, but at least it means Coda gets to have their contact the entire time. Maybe they'll feel more alive and themselves afterwards.
And true to his word, he does indeed take them to his and Artemis's room. He hadn't been home earlier so he genuinely doesn't know if his room-mate is either, but he still knocks before he unlocks the door and carries Coda the Koala into their room.]
[ Artemis stands from his bed at the knock and pads over toward the door, prepared to open it before the handle starts moving. Gil, then, but why would he be knocking -? Artemis meets his eyes, confused, and then his gaze drops - ]
What happened?
[ He keeps the question to a quiet, fierce whisper. ]
[Gil's ears flick back a little, but the angle it puts them on makes it hard to tell if it's admonishment or irritation. His hoof hitting the door is a little firm, though, as he goes to sit on the couch with Coda in his lap. ]
Someone killed themselves. Coda's taking it... a little personally.
[ Artemis shrinks back from both that apology and that look. His eyes dart between the two of them for a moment as he runs his hand through his hair, trying to decide what he can actually do about this situation. Without a word in response he turns back toward the bedroom and starts pulling covers off both their beds. ]
Not saying you're wrong, just saying you're feeling it. [His voice is quiet too, but the rasp prevents him from going lower than a mutter, so Artemis can still hear him pretty clearly.] Amazingly, Coda, your feelings are valid too.
[ Artemis didn't even catch what Coda had said, but he's back with the duvets off both beds now and not really asking before he starts tucking them around the two of them with quick, careful hands. He's using the excuse to study them, because it's difficult to tell if Coda's just drained or hitting the point of shock the way they had in the tunnels. ]
[It seems closer to the latter, the way they'd shut down mentally and emotionally and just failed to function when things got to a certain point.
But they have enough awareness and intent to quietly reach out and tug at Artemis's sleeve. You know, because maybe he'd be nice to have in the nest, too.]
[Gil does shoot Artemis a thankful look as he gets rugged up, his ears pricking back up a little. Artemis is good, despite his bullshit persona.]
So is most of everything we do here. Cognito ergo bullshit. It... shit, it sucks that that's something he decided was worth doing, but that's not a reflection on... on you as a fucking person.
[ For once he doesn't hesitate to come when pulled, though he is careful to position himself so that he's not jostling the couch too much as he curls up at Gil's side, facing Coda, and rests a grounding hand on their knee. ]
Meaning's whatever you make it. For him that was what he felt like he had to do. For you, it doesn't have to be guilt.
He did it because I fucked up, though. If I hadn't fucked up, he'd be alive still.
[They just...cozy up with both the men, their aura of cold a little broader and stronger than usual, felt from a few inches away rather than just when one holds their hand.]
[Luckily Gil's a goddamn radiator, especially with blankets around him, so he's doing a pretty admirable job of countering that cold aura just by existing. Seems almost fitting.]
He probably will be by now again, anyway. And when he realises that it was a fucking waste of time, he'll probably want to apologise.
[He knows himself too well to know he'd just. Leave someone who was so kind to him in the lurch like that.]
[ Artemis is chilled down one side, where he's touching Coda's knee, and impossibly warm where his shoulder's shoved up against Gil's. He holds himself carefully not to shiver as he tries to take in just how fractally fucked up that sentence was. ]
Mm. We talked about that, remember?
[ About how suicide wasn't a means of escape from anything around here. ]
[His ears press back at an angle best described as 'stressed': slightly lower than his angry poses, not as flat to his head as 'sad'. Artemis's comment makes him feel a little called out even if it's not aimed at him.]
I... [He just sighs, quietly, not sure how to help when this is, more or less, indirectly as it is, his fault. So he rests his chin on Coda's head again, and the rumble of his voice will thrum through the back of her head.] Then you did your best. Some people are just stubborn. You know you don't have to forgive him for putting you through that.
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That's not true. I'm so, so sorry that that happened to you, but. It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for a decision he made.
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I did fucked up, though.
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[It's really not hard to lift them. They're less than 100lbs; their customary messenger bag is almost another ten by itself.]
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[Gil can do a hundred pounds without breaking a sweat. He's delicate in picking them up, almost like he's afraid to break them - his hand glosses over their port but he ignores it, scooping them up princess style so he can stand up straight and shift them to just one arm, balanced easily against their chest and at the perfect height to drape themself over his shoulder. He scoops the strap of the messenger bag with his foot so he can pick it up and sling it over his free shoulder, but hey: now he's carrying Coda.]
You don't have to, if you're freaking out. Because you seem like you're still freaking out a lot.
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[But the warm embrace of a kind Ogre is helping just a little. They snug in comfortably, and they close their eyes, and almost seem to turn off the display unit, letting him take them wherever he wants.]
This is Gil's softest icon
[And when they tuck in against him, he rests his chin on their head to give them that little bit more. His pace is a slow, even rhythm, and the swishing of his Mantle almost sounds like gentle washes of rain on the concrete.
He's certainly not going to keep trying to talk to them. But when his arm starts getting a little sore, about three or four blocks in, he gently adjusts them so he's carrying them pressed to his chest, and tucks his muzzle into the crook of their neck - partially so he can still see, mostly to keep maintaining that maximum touch.
At this pace it'll be quite a while to get back. But he's not fussed.]
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And don't tell anyone, but they needed to be held, long before any of this happened.]
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And true to his word, he does indeed take them to his and Artemis's room. He hadn't been home earlier so he genuinely doesn't know if his room-mate is either, but he still knocks before he unlocks the door and carries Coda the Koala into their room.]
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What happened?
[ He keeps the question to a quiet, fierce whisper. ]
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Sorry.
[The apology is automatic, reflexive, what they do when they don't know what else to say.]
CW: further suicide discussion hereon
Someone killed themselves. Coda's taking it... a little personally.
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I think, given the circumstances, most people would take that personally.
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He's not wrong.
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But they have enough awareness and intent to quietly reach out and tug at Artemis's sleeve. You know, because maybe he'd be nice to have in the nest, too.]
Valid is meaningless.
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So is most of everything we do here. Cognito ergo bullshit. It... shit, it sucks that that's something he decided was worth doing, but that's not a reflection on... on you as a fucking person.
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Meaning's whatever you make it. For him that was what he felt like he had to do. For you, it doesn't have to be guilt.
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[They just...cozy up with both the men, their aura of cold a little broader and stronger than usual, felt from a few inches away rather than just when one holds their hand.]
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He probably will be by now again, anyway. And when he realises that it was a fucking waste of time, he'll probably want to apologise.
[He knows himself too well to know he'd just. Leave someone who was so kind to him in the lurch like that.]
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Mm. We talked about that, remember?
[ About how suicide wasn't a means of escape from anything around here. ]
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I don't even know what I'll do with that apology, if it comes.
[They take their glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table--or maybe the arm of the couch if it's not within reach.]
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I... [He just sighs, quietly, not sure how to help when this is, more or less, indirectly as it is, his fault. So he rests his chin on Coda's head again, and the rumble of his voice will thrum through the back of her head.] Then you did your best. Some people are just stubborn. You know you don't have to forgive him for putting you through that.
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