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[Yusuke's currently standing in front of the stove supervising a frying pan full of sliced onions and strips of beef. There's a covered pot of rice sitting on the burner next to it, left to stand while he finishes cooking what's left of the meal. It's a bit of a surprise seeing Rosalind at the doorway after having spent the last several minutes bustling about the kitchen on his own, but her appearance isn't unwelcome; it's only when she asks him about the status of his and Keiko's relationship that he suddenly seems perturbed, pausing and looking at her with wide eyes.

Shit. Crap. The pit of his stomach goes cold. Okay. Okay, easy, Urameshi. No need to act like you're on the verge of pissing yourself. A split-second passes before his expression abruptly shifts, hardening into a look of such cool neutrality it seems rather unnatural in combination with the wry easiness of his voice when he replies.]

... fine? I mean, she saw me while I was runnin' around in coveralls, so that's awkward, but...

[He shrugs and returns his attention to the pan, poking its contents with the spatula in his hand. Another short beat of silence, and then, trying his damndest to ignore the fluttering of nerves in his chest, he asks:]

Why, did she call me a pain in the ass or something? 'Cause you're gonna have to get used to hearing that a lot. I'm kind of an expert at getting on her nerves.

[Despite everything, that isn't meant to be self-deprecating. He relays that information with the unvarnished straightforwardness of a weatherman providing a forecast. Cloud are gathering, rain's gonna fall, Yusuke Urameshi is really good at irritating the hell out of Keiko Yukimura. Comes with the territory of being childhood friends and having nearly a lifetime's worth of experience learning which buttons to press to make her mad.]

Edited (DAMN I AM LOSING SO MANY WORDS TONIGHT) 2017-04-27 03:42 (UTC)

No, we're not quite at that stage in our friendship yet. I imagine it's a matter of time.

[Rosalind pauses for a long few seconds. His expression would have said quite a bit even if she hadn't known the full story already. God, he looks . . .

Well. He looks an awful lot like her, actually, when she's confronted with some emotion she doesn't like and refuses to allow anyone else to see. She'd learnt how to do it just at his age, as a matter of fact. It's not such a strange expression on her face, but to see it on the normally bright Yusuke is jarring.

Best get this over with quickly, then. She hadn't just brought it up to torment him. Rosalind glances away, picking a point on the wall and staring intently at it.]

. . . I'm aware I'm not anyone's first choice for confidant, and certainly not yours. But. If you wish to . . . to speak of, of what's happened between you and Kurama and Keiko . . . that is, if you want to . . .

I'm willing to listen. Is what I'm trying to get at.

... so that's what this is about.

[It's less of a statement of surprise as it is one of confirmation: after all, he'd suspected this was the case the second Rosalind came in wondering about him and Keiko, though he'd hoped she was only asking because he'd brought Keiko up in the first place or because Keiko's new here and she knows they know each other or... hell. He doesn't know what he'd hoped; all he knows is that his gut instinct was correct, and that this is one of the rare instances when he wishes it hadn't been.

Yusuke grunts, keeping his head down and his eyes on his cooking as a familiar grim weight settles heavy on his back. His shoulders draw in tight, as if accommodating the constricts of some small, claustrophobic space. This was the last thing he wanted to speak to the doc about; dammit, it's like he'd thought earlier, the whole reason he hadn't tried to seek her out for a face-to-face meeting was because he didn't want to deal with possible scrutiny over all the stupid, shitty things that've been happening recently.

And yet, he isn't pissed off about it. Irritated, yes; reluctant to broach the topic at all, of course. But he isn't angry at Rosalind for bringing it up, not in the way he'd been whenever Kurama would try to discuss it with him, and that's. . .

He couldn't say what it is that's making the difference here. Maybe it's because he's too fuckin' tired to pick a fight for once. Maybe it's because he isn't afraid of hurting Rosalind the same way he is about hurting Kurama and Keiko; he's afraid of alienating her, sure, but not of breaking her heart.

Maybe it's because she'd seen him at his smallest and weakest and she hadn't abandoned him or made fun of him in the aftermath, and he's still experiencing the stupid emotional shockwaves from that despite his best efforts to ignore them.

Or maybe it's just because she sounds like she feels as awkward talking about this as he does and she's asking him about it anyway. It takes a second for him to gather his courage, but eventually he chances a look at her, studying her expression with a somewhat guarded one of his own. She isn't looking back at him; she's staring at the wall, which is a damned strange sight to see after he's had all this time to become accustomed to her and her usual razor-eyed, in-your-face confidence.

She looks uncomfortable, that's for sure, but she doesn't look angry. That's... surprising in a way that's somehow funny. He isn't sure why he's amused. It isn't at her expense, that's for sure. Maybe he's finally starting to crack up under the pressure of all this. Whatever the case may be, he finds that he's smirking of all things when he next speaks. It isn't a cruel or even particularly humorous smile he's wearing, but the lighthearted wryness of it is an improvement on the stony look he'd been wearing before.]

You worried about me, doc?

Yes.

[She answers without hesitation, and she wonders if he'll realize how significant that is. She wouldn't have done that five months ago. She wouldn't have even considered it, too leery about being seen as weak to bother expressing her concern. Rosalind glances over at him, her expression careful.]

I don't think you're going to fall apart if I don't check in. But yes, I've been worried about you.

Huh.

[Well. Talk about things that are totally unexpected and also the complete opposite of what he deserves. Yusuke is officially more happy than ever to have been given the task of preparing dinner for her: it gives him something else to look at when maintaining eye contact becomes too much. So all this time, he's been stressing out over the possibility of her wanting to punch him out when in reality she's been worried about him? He huffs, his mouth pressing into a thin line. That's a relief. Less of one than it should be, but then, this situation isn't so simple that his nerves can be soothed by the knowledge that a friend doesn't want to kick his ass over something that by all rights he ought to have his ass kicked over.

Does he want to talk about him and Kurama and Keiko? No. Maybe. Certainly he'd rather not have to deal with whatever feelings come bubbling to the surface as a result of engaging the subject, but he knows he's going to be fucked up about it whether he does or not, and even if he didn't it isn't like she'll suddenly forget about it. It'll still be there hovering over them like a greasy-haired mouthbreather slobbering over merchandise at a comic book store, so why not talk about it?

Fuck. The spatula scrapes loudly against the bottom of the pan as Yusuke, suddenly overcome by frustration, nudges a fat strip of beef onto its side with perhaps more force than necessary. Why the hell does he have to deal with this? It would be so much easier for everyone if he just didn't care.]

Look, I - ... I appreciate the concern, but if you wanna worry about somebody, you'd be better off spending your energy on Kurama and Keiko. They're the ones getting screwed here, not me.

[Keiko is, certainly. But Rosalind isn't so certain about Kurama. Oh, he's hurting, no doubt about that, and she feels for him, she really does. But he'd gone into this fling with Yusuke knowing precisely what such a relationship might mean. This wasn't a nasty shock, not to him, not truly, because she knows for a fact he'd spent ages agonizing over the decision for just this reason.]

I'm hardly limited to one or two people.

[There's no pity in her expression, but her eyes are softer than she usually allows them.]

Make no mistake: I hardly think you're blameless. Nor is Kurama. But that doesn't mean I can't, or don't, sympathize with you as well.

... your food's almost done.

[Yusuke mutters, his head down. The line of his back is curved and tense, but somehow there's something... lighter about him. Not softer, not more relaxed, but more pliant. Like metal shifting and bending beneath steady pressure.]

You wanna take a seat and I'll bring it out to you?

All right.

[She doesn't press. Either he'll talk to her or he won't, but at least he knows the offer is there. She'll follow his lead from now on, and to that end, Rosalind settles in, sitting at the table, one leg crossed gracefully over the other.]

What is it you've made for me, precisely?

Gyudon. Basically beef and onions served over rice with some scallions and other crap.

[WHAT AN APPETIZING DESCRIPTION. It smells good, however, and looks just as nice when he eventually comes wandering out with it held carefully in both hands and sets it down in front of her. Fluffy white rice and juicy simmered beef mixed with onions and layered with scallions, red ginger, and a carefully poached egg: altogether, it's a simple but colorful and tasty-looking dish, and Yusuke, in spite of everything else that's going on with him, seems satisfied with his handiwork.]

There we go. Lemme know what you think.

[And with that, he slouches down into the chair across from her, crossing his legs at the ankles and watching her as she takes her first bite.]

[It smells fantastic, but it tastes even better: there's nothing too spicy for her English tongue, and Rosalind savors the rice and beef mixing together. It's far better than anything she can make, and it's hard not to simply dig in, but she was raised far better than that.]

It's wonderful, Yusuke.

[She offers him a slight smile.]

There's, ah, always more egg in Japanese meals than I expect. Which is no bad thing, but we don't typically have eggs anywhere but breakfast in England. I quite like it.

[Yusuke, she says. Not Urameshi. Yusuke opts not to point it out, since he doesn't particularly care which name she calls him, but the transition doesn't go unnoticed; in fact, it makes him smirk a little bit, as does the compliment, and slowly, he finds himself thawing as he warms to the easy subject of their respective native cuisines.]

Oh yeah? I dunno if I've ever even had English food before. What is it, fish and chips and spotted dick?

[He snickers. Spotted dick. He doesn't even know what spotted dick is, he just knows it has a hilarious name and really, he's content to let that be the extent of his understanding of it.]

[She gives him the flattest of looks. Don't start, Yusuke.]

It's pudding.

[Not that it will help matters at all, but at least he ought to know.]

As for fish and chips: that's rather more street food than I'm usually inclined to, but there's nothing wrong with it on occasion. If you want real English fare, you ought to get Robert to make you a pork pie.

[Pudding? Well, that just raised more questions than it gave answers. Why would pudding be given a name like that? ...

Yusuke grimaces at her suggestion. Oh. That's why. Because the English are fucking weird.]

No offense, but that sounds rank as hell.

It's pork and potatoes and vegetables, precisely what's rank about that?

Wait, so it's -

[Yusuke blinks, then laughs, scratching the side of his neck sheepishly as he says:]

My bad. I was picturing a normal pie with dead pig in it.

Oh, good lord.

[She supposes she can't blame him, and it's not as if she knows anything about Japanese cuisine, but still.]

Meat pies are a staple of my country. I used to subsist on them when I was seventeen.

[Strange how he doesn't have to wonder what she was like at that age when he's already seen it for himself - or, at the very least, a snapshot of it. Yusuke mulls over this for a second before he replies.]

Did you buy them, or did your folks make 'em for you?

[He doesn't suppose she made them herself. She said she wasn't much of a cook.]

[She has rather an odd reaction, then: Rosalind stares for a split second, her eyes wide, before huffing a wry little laugh.]

Lord and Lady Lutece never stepped foot into a kitchen in all their lives, except perhaps to order the servants around. I doubt either of them even knew how to boil water.

[Mm. Rosalind takes another bite, buying herself a moment as she debates internally. But it doesn't take long for her to come to a resolution, and she soon adds:]

No, I, ah . . . I'd been disowned. At that point. Hence my buying street food.

[Oh. Shit. Way to step in it, Urameshi.]

...

Tsh. Their loss, right?

[He drawls, dismissive in a way that's clearly intended to express disdain for her parents rather than for her or whatever situation they'd left her in. That seems like the safest thing to say to her on this subject: it isn't pitying, it doesn't make him sound like he's implicitly pressuring her to give him any details, and it's the truth. He doesn't know what happened, but he does know that Lord and Lady Lutece got the short end of the deal.]

Yes, I rather think so.

[She smiles, and it's odd, isn't it, how much she resembles her student in that moment: it's the same wry sort of smirk he'd put on when she'd asked after him. It's not happy, precisely. It's bitter and angry and triumphant, all at once, and it only lasts for a few seconds.]

And I gained something far better than some inbred dullard of a husband.

Was that the bottom line? Get hitched or get lost?

[All right, so he'd already resolved not to pry, but. . . he recognizes that vehement sense of victory on her face: it's a look that says, to him, look where I got me; look how I survived and came out on top in spite of you. He recognizes it because he's often found himself feeling similarly, and so it's difficult not for him not to be curious about the circumstances that led her to wear those emotions on her face. Besides, it's natural to want to learn more about the people you care about, right?]

More or less.

[It's a difficult subject, but she wouldn't have brought it up unless she'd been prepared to speak on it. Rosalind pokes around her food for a moment, certain to get a bit of egg alongside the beef and rice for her next bite, before speaking again.]

I'd been rejecting potential matches since I was . . . oh, thirteen or so. My mother debuted me early-- that is, she began presenting me for engagement then. She hoped to utilize my intelligence, because I was already bright enough to master all the little accomplishments the ideal lady ought to. I could sing and play piano, I spoke French, I could paint and sew and even dance . . . and at thirteen, I was still eager to please her.

No one was particularly interested. I was still a child; I think she hoped someone would want me for my potential and my lineage. And then by the time the next season rolled around, I was already in university. I attended all the dances and parties on break, but while I was, ah, physically acceptable, I'd grown old enough to become disillusioned with the idea of a husband who wanted not me, but simply a woman to slot into a role he'd already imagined.

At seventeen, I graduated. My mother, up until then, had treated university as an indulgence. But when I informed her I had no intention of stopping, she demanded I marry by the season's end. I imagine she hoped a man might tame me, or I'd find joy in the domestic life. I refused, and . . .

[She shrugs. And then I was disowned, he knows the rest.]

... wow, and I thought my home situation sucked.

[Blithe as that response may be, he doesn't mean to be insensitive. On the contrary, it's clear that he's taking her quite seriously: his eyes are dark and narrow as he digests everything she's just told him. It isn't precisely shocking to hear what she's been through: he knew she'd had a rough time being a woman with brains and ambition in the 19th century, and this is certainly consistent with that prior knowledge. But still, to discover that even her mother treated her cruelly because of it...

I imagine she hoped a man might tame me. TAME her, she said. Like a dog. And for what, because she wanted to go to school instead of marry some random fucker who was twice as old and half as smart as she was? If he could fist fight an entire era right now, he would.]

I'm guessing your old man didn't step in?

Women's business.

[Naturally he hadn't stepped in. Why would he? The world of courtship and engagement and marriage was for Rosalind's mother to fuss about. Oh, no doubt he'd been informed of his daughter's stubbornness, but it was hardly on for him to offer any advice or stern commandment.]

My father . . . he was fond of me. Certainly he indulged me by allowing me to attend Girton. But I think both of them imagined I would come crawling back within a year.

[Her gaze flickers down for a moment before she meets his eyes once more. There's something in his expression that keeps taking her off-guard. It isn't that she finds his sharp anger unpleasant or inappropriate, but . . . she hadn't really expected the sudden seriousness. Oh, she hadn't thought he'd joke, he's not nearly that flippant, but she'd thought . . . what? That he'd hastily change the subject, perhaps, or simply slip past it with a slight shrug.

But he hadn't. He's angry, visibly so, on her behalf. And she doesn't quite know what to do with that.]

Sounds like Pops had a pretty convenient excuse not to stick his neck out.

[Women's business... Yusuke scoffs, furious and derisive, and picks at a loose splinter of wood on the table as he launches headfirst into a fiery tirade fanned by the injustice of what Rosalind's described.]

I'm not a historian or some straight-A honor student with a bankroll, but back then, it was the men who called all the shots, right? So why the hell didn't he stop your mom from givin' you the axe? If he cared so much about you, he should've told your mom to get over herself and let you get a degree or do whatever the hell else you wanted. It's guys like him who see screwed up things happening and don't do anything about it that really piss me off!

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