ic contact;

[originallutece]

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[uncertainrelation]

[How effortless it is, how utterly instinctual, to work in tandem with her like that. It's as though both hands belonged to the same person (which, technically, they do, since each hand belongs to R. Lutece), with the way she holds and he twists and the bottle comes open so easily.

It's equally so when he takes it from her, downing his own mouthful — which phenomenally enough, if they were to have measured it out in beakers and flasks, would have worked out to precisely the same amount (down to the milliliter) that she's just poured into hers.]

I don't regret it, you know.

[He hands the bottle back to her, and moves his hand to her hair instead.]

Even knowing full well what would transpire, what would happen to me, I'd choose it again. I'd always choose you.

[originallutece]

[One last mouthful, then, before she surrenders herself entirely over to the sensation of his fingers running through her hair.]

So would I.

[All the deals, all the regret, all the rage and destruction and horror . . . years upon years of serving Comstock's whims, dealing with Fink, living with all that guilt, god. She'd happily go through it all again if it meant getting him. She'd go through far, far worse if it meant getting him.]

. . . I'm not going anywhere, you know.

[She tips her head back just far enough that she can peer up at him.]

And nor are you.

[uncertainrelation]

No. Not ever again.

[Well, if she's abandoning the bottle, he'll take it right back. He's down by a mouthful, now, and it's a poor universe indeed when R. Lutece and R. Lutece are not equal in all things.]

...D'you know, if I had met my premature and untimely demise, I wager Comstock would've simply had me thrown right off of Columbia?

[originallutece]

[They're going to end up finishing the bottle if they keep competing like this. Certainly they are if Robert keeps saying things like that; Rosalind flinches, inhaling sharply.]

Robert, for god's sake, you can't-- don't. Don't say that.

[It's more than a mouthful now; Rosalind swallows twice, glaring at him all the while.]

[uncertainrelation]

I'm only saying I'm quite convinced the man secretly loathed me.

[Hmmm.]

...And possibly hoping black humor will prove as effective a medication as the bourbon.

[originallutece]

Pick something else to joke about.

[Though she's apparently not so angry that she's ready to pull away. Rosalind shoves the bottle towards him, her eyes narrowed.]

[uncertainrelation]

Which Dewitt was it that fell off of Columbia? I lost track.

[Which is probably as good an excuse as any to hit the bourbon again, all things considered.]

...No, I oughtn't joke about that, either. Hm. Well...d'you know young Mr. Strider wants a pony?

[originallutece]

[Frankly, Rosalind is quite a bit more inclined to joke about Dewitt falling off Columbia (numbers 76 and 77, for the record), but she'll switch topics.]

. . . truly? Are you certain he wasn't being sarcastic?

[uncertainrelation]

I suppose he might've been, but that wasn't the impression I took away. He was strongly opposed to puppies but quite in favor of ponies.

[Important data to be added to his file, naturally.]

Shame, really. Ponies are far harder to come by, I would think, than a puppy.

[originallutece]

Both are hard to come by around here. I had to--

[The alcohol is just starting to hit. Rosalind rubs her face, feeling the flush there, and squints up at him.]

If I tell you something, you can't laugh.

[uncertainrelation]

I would never laugh at you.

[He pronounces, very seriously and solemnly.]

...I may laugh somewhat near you. But certainly not at you.

[originallutece]

I'm going to be quite upset if you laugh.

[Which means he's probably going to, which means this preventative attempt is ultimately useless. But still, Rosalind tries.]

I'm certainly not going to let you have any more bourbon.

[uncertainrelation]

Should I feel the urge, I shall stifle it by kissing you soundly instead, and smother it.

[A cunning plan!]

[originallutece]

. . . all right.

[He's not going to kiss her well if he's laughing, but whatever, that's good enough reason for her tipsy mind.]

They've no horses around here, as I said. My dressmaker, Miss Everett and I, we had to go on a, a mission of sorts. That's how I got all our science equipment: I went on this mission and got all of it as a reward. But where we had to go was forty miles away, we couldn't possibly walk, and then Miss Everett suggested--

[S Q U I N T S]

They have these . . . large birds. That one might ride. Rather like an ostrich.

[She's not going to use the word chicken.]

. . . that's the only sort of animal around here, is the point of the story. The bizarre and the supernatural. Nothing ordinary.

[uncertainrelation]

I heard about that! I think I did. Someone mentioned it, something about a mirror? I heard tell of a great deal of traveling for the sake of a broken mirror, I think.

[...Wait for it.]

You mean to say the two of you rode a pair of giant birds forty miles into the wilderness?

[...Wait for it.]

...Was it all it was quacked up to be?

[FUCKING DAMMIT, ROBERT]

1/?

[originallutece]

[originallutece]

[originallutece]

[originallutece]

done!

[originallutece]

[Why does she love this man?]

No more bourbon for you.

[So says Rosalind, queen of alcohol, as she sits up and holds the bottle out of his reach. She might even begin drinking it, just to ensure her commands are enforced.]

[uncertainrelation]

I do say, Rosie, your expression just performed a five-act play in as many seconds.

[Are we seriously playing keep-away with a bottle of alcohol right now. Are we that much of children.

...Evidently so, because he's reaching for it.]

It's not as though it was the bourbon talking, you know!

[originallutece]

I'm not blaming the alcohol, I'm blaming you! And this is your proper comeuppance--

[He's got longer arms, this isn't going to last long-- but still Rosalind leans forward, arm outstretched, intent on keeping this going as long as she can.]

[uncertainrelation]

Come here, I feel a laugh coming on and I'm obliged to kiss you because of it. Come, now.

[And perhaps while she is distracted with the kissing he can make a snatch for the bourbon. A cunning plan, indeed!]

[originallutece]

No.

[She scoots, now, drawing entirely out of his arms and retreating to the other end of the couch. And again, she takes another defiant swig, putting her up at least three to one by now.]

You're never going to learn if you simply get immediate positive reinforcement.

[uncertainrelation]

Technically I would learn very quickly if I were to simply get immediate positive reinforcement, but it wouldn't be the behavior you're hoping for.

[What's this? He's being deprived of her completely? Oh, well, that's intolerable. Forget the bourbon completely, he now has a much more pressing priority to address and it is catching hold of her and dragging her back into his arms.]