#//also ud calling dolores nani (grandma) immediately without thinking about it like

[dvarapala]

It's probably a good thing that Five doesn't have the additional power of telepathy. But then again, he doesn't need to be a mind-reader to realize what just happened, does he?

One of the corners of Udyati's mouth lifts briefly, pleased with the result.

Got'cha.

All she wanted was for him to talk to her and when the regular way didn't work, she went to plan two: poking and prodding. Kalari is about identifying just where you need to strike, after all. And strike she did.

In her own way.

By badgering him until he talked.

Udyati may not be book-smart, but she is people-smart. And most people forget that.

Her eyes soften, however, when Five confesses that he cares about Dolores - of course he does, out of the two of them, his heart bleeds so much more - and that he can't be around her, otherwise he'll fall in love.

Of course he would. Udyati's seen Dolores. Has spent time with Dolores. She's an absolute delight and she would fit in so, so much. In this universe. With him. With all of them. She can already see it in her mind's eye. And she figures that Five can see it too.

"Thank you for telling me, Nana. That must've been... a lot. If I upset you or opened old wounds of any kind, I sincerely apologize and I want you to know that I didn't mean to. I just wanted you to talk to me. And you weren't. And we don't not talk. And we can't help Nani - Dolores - unless we keep each other in the loop."

She doesn't say anything anymore about Five potentially not caring. Because he cares most of all, duh.

There is an I love you in there too somewhere, if Five feels like reading between the lines, and it goes unsaid. Though, hopefully, not unnoticed. Because he's family, now, too.

"I'm not saying you've gotta be glued to her hip in order to help. You can be the guy in the chair for once. I don't know. What I do know is that we're gonna need your expertise to pull this off. Because, as I've said before, you're the smartest person I know. You know stuff. A lot of stuff. So, how do you want to do this?"

@dvarapala / continued from here

"Can't you just drop it?!" Somewhere in the very back of his brain, it occurs to him that maybe he said it a little bit louder than he strictly needed to, and certainly a whole lot louder than he's ever said anything to her before — he's always tried his best to protect Udyati from him, to smooth and soften his sharp edges for her, to give her that one microscopic piece of his personality he can call good, but now he's all teeth and claws and burning, white-hot, knife-sharp rage, because she just won't stop pushing him. "Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, it's not as simple as oh, she's not my version of Dolores, so I don't give a shit about her? Of fucking course I give a shit about her! She's my wife! You think I care what universe she comes from?!"

Five doesn't remember exactly when he pushed back his chair and got to his feet, or when his hands clenched themselves up into white-knuckled fists, but he can feel the smooth hardwood floor under the soles of his shoes, and he can feel his own blunt nails digging into the soft skin of his palms, and he has to pull in a very deep, slow breath, and tell himself to calm the fuck down, before he can uncurl his fingers.

"Look," he says, finally, and far quieter than he expects from himself right now, all the fury draining from him in an instant, "it's not a matter of whether I owe her anything or not. And it's not a matter of whether I want to help her or not. It's that—it's that I—I know she's not my Dolores. I know that. But she's—she's exactly like her. All the things she says, and all the things she does… her eyes, and her smile, and the way she walks, and that weird sense of humor she has, and the way she rolls her Rs—it's all exactly like the Dolores I knew, down to the smallest detail, and I—I can't—"

Five swallows hard, trying his best to pretend he can't feel the red-hot flush in his cheeks, probably glaringly obvious to Udyati thanks to the sunlight pouring in through the window on the other side of the room. It's a testament to how much he trusts her that he hasn't ducked his head down or turned away to hide his face from her yet. It's a testament to how much he trusts her that he hasn't just teleported away into another room and neatly sidestepped this whole godawful conversation, actually.

"I can't be around her." It comes out just a little too much like a confession, and maybe that's what it is. "I have to stay away from her. Or I'll fall in love with her. And I can't do that."