066. Baby Come On Home

[samson]

[Look, here's Brock's deep and manly voice. Despite... everything... he sounds pretty damn blasé, as per usual.]

I'm back, by the way. Don't make a big deal about it. I've been back for awhile but I'm, uh, really busy, so.

[Busy dealing with his wife.......]

Anyway, I haven't made it back to the cabin yet, but please tell me somebody did me a solid and like... cleaned up.

Comments

[samson]

[So was she. Just in a different way.]

Okay, but... I'm here now. Okay? I'm not going anywhere.

[molotov]

But what if you do? You will be gone, you will forget me, forget this...

[samson]

I won't. I promise. I mean... you think some bullshit magic castle can keep me from you? Come on.

[molotov]

[Molotov goes quiet again, blinking back a tear or two.]

I asked Ezio, when he came back from his trip home. He did not remember. And House, he did not remember either.

You will forget, you will be afraid of me again. We won't be together.

[samson]

[Brock lets go of her hands to wrap his arms around her, gently lowering himself down on his back and taking her with him.]

They don't love you like I do.

[molotov]

Neither does the you at home.

[samson]

Pfft. That's the worst lie ever. I always loved you.

[molotov]

It isn't the same. You know it isn't.

[samson]

[He nudges her gently.] I always loved you the same way. We just don't have all the bullshit here.

[molotov]

[She just falls quiet. She knows it isn't true, that the Brock in their world hates and fears her alongside his love for her. And it's nice that he wants to keep up the pretense, the little fantasy world that is Paradisa, but Molotov has been made to face her fears now, and she's not sure how much longer she can keep burying her head in the sand.

There have to be other options.

After a few silent minutes, she gently pulls away and gets up, going over to the bureau to put on... you know, underwear and clothes.]

Well, since you are so tired, I am going to out.

[samson]

[Well, now he is conflicted! He wanted alone time, but not if she's going to go out without him, no...

Brock's own clinginess combatting with his desire for privacy after like two weeks of being clung to.]

What... why? Are you pissed at me now?

[molotov]

Nyet. You said you wanted to be alone!

[samson]

[FROWNS...] I just didn't want you hanging on me. You don't have to leave ...

[molotov]

Well, I have other things I can do, too! I need to go out to the bears, I have not talked to anyone, it's fine.

[samson]

[such frown]

Are you sure you're not pissed?

[molotov]

I'm sure. [She finishes putting on clothes, then comes to kiss his cheek.] It's fine.

[samson]

[He just seems unsure now. Brock, this is what you wanted, shut the hell up.]

Okay... come back tonight?

[molotov]

[It's fine, Brock, she's probably just gonna go cry into a bear's head.]

Da, of course.

[samson]

[But his chest is just as furry!! Do that here, lady!]

Okay... I love you.

[molotov]

[No! He wants to be ~alone~, so that's what he gets.]

I love you too, sokol.

[And then she leaves.]

[samson]

[Brock watches her go, all bereft like a lost puppy, but then he pretty much just rolls over and passes out.]