040. All My Love

[samson]

[Ezio Auditore]
Hey, man. So ... last year when these magic babies disappeared, Molotov kind of wigged out. So just keep an eye out for that, I guess.

[Cross Marian]
[WOW HE STILL HATES YOU hear that terseness in his tone, bro?]

Hey. Molotov might flip out soon. And she likes you, so just keep an eye on her.

[Room 509]
[Welp, it's Saturday night, and Brock had sort of been dreading it. He was trying not to think about Andy going home tomorrow -- maybe she wouldn't, you know? Sometimes things here lasted longer than they were "supposed to."

But that still didn't keep him from deciding he was going to stay awake well past midnight to keep an eye on his fake impossible magic baby for as long as humanly possible.

He's on his way through the living room when he notices a door. Like, a freestanding door that wasn't there before.]

Uh. Hey, Molotov? What's this thing?

Comments

[molotov]

[Molotov strokes Andy's hair, feeling her breath catch for just a second as she has to steady herself psychologically.]

Who is that other one, Andropov?

[samson]

Umm, I don't know! He was boring and he called me potatoes.

[molotov]

Ahh, Ezio, da. He is just not used to children.

[samson]

I am still not potatoes! [She snuggles into Molotov's side, pausing for a moment before turning to Brock.] Daddy, you have to keep reading!

[Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Brock turns the page and pauses for a moment before reading, showing Molotov the page with a quirked eyebrow.] "I had a tea party with Daddy."

[molotov]

No, you are not potatoes. [Molotov's voice is soft as she runs her fingers through Andropov's curls. She looks at the page, though, smiling a little.] Is Daddy a good tea party guest?

[samson]

He is okay. He would not wear party clothes.

I didn't have any party clothes.

[molotov]

Daddy has a tuxedo. Next time, make him wear it.

[samson]

[Brock's smile falters a little when she says that, though Andy doesn't seem to notice. She's just shocked that Brock didn't wear a tuxedo!] Yeah, Daddy! You shoulda weared it!

I shoulda, you're right. [Keep it together, Samson. Swallowing, he turns the page and shows it to Molotov.] "I saw the bears."

Umm, he's on a box because I drew it wrong.

[molotov]

[Brock faltering makes Molotov falter, and she glances to the side, rolling her eye to the ceiling for a second before she looks back at the page.]

Nyet nyet, no, baby. You drew him perfect, Mishka would like it.

[samson]

You gotta show it to him. You gotta say, "This is you," and tell him I drew it. [Andy yawns and cuddles up to Molotov again, closing her eyes. She waves at Brock though, over her shoulder.] Daddy Daddy you need to finish it.

[Obediently turning the page, Brock shows Molotov the drawing.] "I drew this for Mama. Daddy helps."

[molotov]

[Molotov swallows hard and screws up her face, but nods vigorously as she wraps her arms tightly around Andropov.]

[samson]

[Brock exhales hard and turns to the last page, showing Molotov just out of habit, since she's not looking anymore.] "The end."

Love, Andy! Heart!

[molotov]

[Molotov doesn't really trust herself to speak right now, so she just nods again and presses her face into Andropov's hair, rocking them back and forth.]

[samson]

[Brock closes the little booklet and watches them for a moment, frowning, before softly calling to her:] C'mon, baby. Let's say good night so Andy can go to bed.

[molotov]

[She inhales sharply and shakes her head, and when she speaks, it's in French.]

I want to stay until she falls asleep. I promise I will come out, Brock. I just... I want to stay.

[samson]

[He nods slowly, still frowning. He didn't completely trust her to do as she says, but he figures if she stays in here past midnight, the castle will just toss her back out anyway. Well ... hopefully, anyway. He goes over to the little bed, leaning over to give Andropov a kiss on her little head.] Night, Andy.

[When he starts to stand up, Andy rolls over and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him good night too.] I love you, Daddy.

[Swallowing hard, Brock smooths out Andropov's hair and kisses her head again.] I love you too, Andy.

I'll be waiting for you, Mol. [Just, you know, in case she decides to stay in this fake impossible magic room forever. >:{ He gets up to leave, noticing a little family portrait on Andy's dresser on his way out ... which makes him feel kind of better about leaving Andy here, since apparently she lives with a fake impossible magic Brock and Molotov? But he'll tell this to Molotov later.

Right now, he'll let her have her last few minutes with their daughter.]

[molotov]

[When Brock leaves, Molotov lays down next to Andropov, holding her and murmuring in choked Russian. The only things keeping her from tears are the fact that Andropov is still awake, and her own annoyance with Brock, whom she's sure is waiting just outside the door. Molotov isn't sure why that's pissing her off, but it is, and she's grateful.

But she doesn't want Andropov to know any of this, so she just holds her and tells her little rhymes and all about how much she loves her and how perfect she is.]

[samson]

[Well, it's fine that she's pissed! It's good, even. He was planning on her coming out of the room fists a-swingin', anyway.

For his part, Brock was just sitting in the living room with Andy's little booklet in his hands, frowning vaguely at the door. Just kind of zoning out.]

[molotov]

[When Andropov finally dozes off, Molotov cries into her hair, and continues to lie there for a little while, until she can compose herself enough to at least walk past Brock.

Once she's able to, Molotov slides off the bed as slowly as she can, so as not to disturb Andropov. She shifts her slightly, tucking her in tightly and evenly, and presses her lips to her forehead. She makes sure there's a nightlight on, and that the curtains are closed, so that Andy isn't woken up too early by the sun. Molotov even hovers, tidying up and rearranging things on shelves, so that she can feel like she made some kind of difference.

It takes some time for her to feel strong enough to leave, and she turns the light out as she backs out of the door, which she closes behind herself. Molotov doesn't even look at Brock once she's out of Andropov's room -- she immediately walks straight into the room that she made for their daughter, and collapses into the bed there, her face down in the pillows.]

[samson]

[Of course Brock looks up when Molotov comes out, watching her go into the spare room. He stays sitting there for a little while, head turned toward Andropov's non-magic room (well, they were both magic, but ... the one Molotov is in), eventually getting up to follow her.

He ignores the urge to open the magic door to peek in on her, instead just quickly following Molotov and immediately lying down beside her.]

[molotov]

[Molotov doesn't care anymore. She had halfway been hoping that Brock would just leave her alone, but since he didn't, she doesn't care. She sobs openly into the pillow, quaking and gasping for breath when she can't breathe anymore. Molotov doesn't love very much, and almost never unconditionally. She feels like she's dying, like she did when her father died.

Maybe she can die for a while. Just for a few weeks, enough to stop feeling like this.]

[samson]

[Well, obviously he couldn't leave her alone if she was going to be a crazypants about it! Molotov, no, you cannot die, even for a little bit. Because believe it or not, Brock would lose it too.

Shushing her, he pulls her into his arms and holds her tightly.] Stop, stop. It's okay, Mol.

[With any luck they would both get some sleep and be less miserable in the morning.]