#LMBOOO PLS CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW CHILDISH HE IS @ THE SCARF

[lucygraysboy]

“i’m not coriolanus. i’m —” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose both to keep from embarrassing himself further by crying like a baby and to calm down, gather his thoughts. the orange scarf in his lap is very much real, and so is the pain on the left side of his face or the stinging in his neck where the knife had nicked him. dreams are never this vivid. if it was a dream, he would have already woken up from it. besides, the rainbow girl is right — it takes time to come up with a story as detailed as this one, takes a great amount of acting talent to pull off the frightened, feral look that she’s given him earlier. “alright,” he mumbles, watching her move closer and closer to the door and staying right where he is. will she ever lower her guard down? he guesses she won’t. if his twin really did point a gun at her, can he blame her? “let’s assume you are tellin’ the truth. will you hear me out? let me tell you my story? without running away? there’s a storm ragin’ outside an’ you ain’t got no shoes, in case you’ve forgotten. am i really a bigger threat than what awaits you out there? in the dead of night? sit down, i won’t hurt you.” he carefully folds his mother’s scarf, but refuses to put it where her other clothes are. instead, he lays it on the bed, one hand resting atop it. he intends to take it home with him. he doesn’t care who gave it to her. it doesn’t belong to her. 

“yes it is, coriolanus.” retorting flatly, growing exhausted with correcting him. why would dr. gaul do this? rewire his brain and send him out here to find her with memory loss? what’s the angle? no matter what it is… it’s unsettling, she HAS to get out of here. especially the longer he keeps denying it, seemingly about to get angry at her which has her heart rate picking up despite looking stoic on the outside. staying quiet about him not killing anyone, silently swallowing the lump in her throat again, she won’t insist that he did on that part because it might turn him violent. “makin’ it all up?” a small laugh sounded through her nose, “i wish i were. who could be that clever to come up with all of that in what i just said under one minute? who?” looking at him like he was ridiculous— he is. even more than he already was. “i’ve always liked to tell stories, but even that’s beyond what i can do.” she takes a few steps away from her chair and the fireplace, going over to the bed to pick up some purple scarves that are wrapped around the bed pole, pretending she’s looking through them to keep her hands busy. feeling a little safer now that she’s standing right next the door. the only bad thing, she’s barefooted.