#Raph decides for bad/half-legitimate jokes now

[asheescribbles]

@reddiewrote

Her thumbs wandered along his palm, feeling over the insides of his knuckles with no extra bone-growth, no traumata-causing damage, no ruptures that caused restructuring. They were perfectly well formed and maintained hands. Tendons flexed the expected amount. Muscles became pliant under the pressure. The first sign of ‘wear’ was a more prominent muscles growth for his index and middle finger. And of course the usual cramp in the ball of his thumb.

No need to think. Only be reassured. Grounded.

Maybe it had been worth being selfish. She didn’t even feel all too guilty for it. No interpretation of heartbeat frequency was a good thing to make up for that.

Could mean absolutely everything anyway.

“Never met them,” she shrugged. Flies, right? Lots of flies. ‘Wrath’ was the sin? Probably good they’d never met. Wrathy people usually get thrown out of the clinic.

Her inner doctor nodded along to the work-attitude and the routine and the faces and the office, checking a few assumptions as confirmed (and healthy).

And then her wandering eyes (occasionally glancing to his face before looking back at his hand) flicked to look at his. Her hands didn’t stop and there was no immediately visible reaction at all. Maybe that’s a reaction in itself.

‘Sure you do.’ Was the first uncharitable – for everyone involved – reaction in thoughts.

‘It IS a very nice office. Last time I was there.’ Was the reaction of apathetic avoidance.

‘Four years isn’t a long time. You mean ‘Raphael’?’ was maybe the most uncharitable reaction, especially since Asmodeus just said that ‘you are you’. Bad. Also a bit egocentric.

‘Therapy? Really?’ was ridiculous. They were not in therapy. ‘This’ could mean anything.

‘I wasn’t fishing for that, just being honest.’ Was also an egocentric reaction. VERY much. And defensive. And didn’t she constantly tell people that’s bad.

But honest. She’s supposed to be honest.  

And she was honestly happy. Not that he’d missed her – that had been terrible. But he’d thought about her and-

It was probably good that she always thought before answering in these rooms.

Her smile twitched a bit wider and she said, softly: “Thank you.” Because she’d waited too long to not let him know the words had an impact on her, somewhat shameful as it was. “… for feeling that way” At the moment. If it was reasonable or not. Or logical. But he probably didn’t even mean for it to be so personal, anyway: “You’re always welcome here. And to whatever I can provide of… ‘this’.”

But she was meant to be honest, and the truth was relatively easy. She spoke with a bit firmer tone: “Now. If you were here for an actual ‘appointment’ today. I’d ask you so many more questions. About all of that. As it stands… well. You’ve got even less reason to be sorry towards me. Wanting to come back and all.” She still didn’t quite get how he was sorry in the first place.

“Which you also did. So.” What were they talking about? Amu? ‘Grem’? Massages. Rings. Blushes. (Bad. She hoped hers was not too visible, given her current complexion. Her cheeks DID feel warm). So. Human history!

Recent human history. Sure. „Now… you have to stick around and deal with new technology. 3D-printing got easy to use, almost cheap and also non-toxic. It’s a wonder! Whatever you don’t have, you can print. Prosthetics are a marvel now – customized in a way that was never possible before. Astronauts survive even if they forget tools. Headphones can finally fit!”

“But… I have a clinic.” She continued, tone certainly lighthearted, but a bit suspicious: “A very discreet and trustworthy clinic. One to which you can come with any problem. And you are back… tell me… what do you think… will people get more or less creative with the things they print and use for… private entertainment?” Humans and orifices. She swore.

She might have looked a bit suspicious about the last bit. But her fingers still moved, smoothing out any muscle-knots.

This was a topic they could both relate to, right? Kind of. But it was nothing to have a pulse pick up for. Or look earnest. They were supposed to stay lighthearted. Right? They’d barely met again.

@asheescribbles

Nine years.

The comfortable warmth he’d been feeling was suddenly intruded upon by an abrupt jab of ice through his veins.

Nine… years?

With such a well-practiced pokerface, the shock he experienced was almost imperceptibly displayed with just the slightest widening of his eyes, and perhaps the tightness that suddenly hit his smile.

Nine years? Nine years?

He’d come into existence before anyone had ever started counting, 3,000-some-odd days were but a flash in the pan. But he’d always experienced that flash in real time, in chronological order. Perhaps he did need that check-up after all…

… What had she just said? He was listening, but hadn’t heard much of it. His pretty blue eyes blinked quickly back into focus, hoping she hadn’t noticed him falter.

“Ah, of course.” Asmodeus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep the easy relaxation he was so well known for in place, and… struggling.

“A walk sounds lovely,” he said, in typical fashion, with little to no interest whatsoever in what might be good for him. Walking, walking, walking, endlessly walking and yet somehow, more of that was preferable to the alternative. Suddenly, an old feeling - insecurity. He gestured awkwardly towards the door behind him. “Shall we?”