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[At that, all Ardyn has to do is look at her so very skeptically, giving a pointed look at the knife as she puts it away.]

[Oh, there goes the smile, replaced by an arch little look.]

And? It worked out, didn't it? Don't act as if I came in here brandishing a switchblade and cut off my hand, honestly.

Perhaps nothing so extreme, but don't pretend that you'd have been against the idea of something more questionable than a mere cut on the finger to begin with. You're quite the zealot when it comes to unravelling mysteries, Rosalind.

[She wrinkles her nose at him, a clear sign that he's won and she doesn't want to admit it.]

Only to a certain point. Anyway, this is how discoveries are made. No one ever discovered anything by playing it safe.

And that is something I must concede to.

[He looks satisfied at having made his previous point, though.]

Now then, you should clean off any excess blood on you, and let me play the part of a host that isn't allowing his guests to gouge at their fingers. Do you want something to drink while you're here?

Yes, all right. Tea, if you have it, and water if you don't.

[Technically, the real reason for her visit is over with, but . . . she's also never gotten to see where Ardyn lives. This is intriguing. Absently, she bites at her (thankfully nonbloody) thumb as she makes her way to the sink.]

Is your brother living with you temporarily, or is it a more permanent situation?

[Ardyn's home is was one that was built probably in the 50's or 60's, and its rooms are laid out accordingly, though the rounded design of the living room is certainly unique. Also, I am lazy and will just link you this picture for a general #aesthetic of it.

Ardyn keeps his home immaculately clean (the part visible to visitors, at least), so she shouldn't have any difficulties taking in the decor. But here and there, there are books on various flat surfaces stacked along the way to the kitchen -- even in the kitchen, there seems to be a law book that's wandered its way onto the counter.

He does have tea, and so he'll begin to prepare it for her, gathering up a tea kettle to fill with water and let boil on the stove. At some point, Erebus wanders in, but mostly ignores the two of them as he flops down in the middle of the kitchen on his side, for the sake of a nap.]

Temporarily. [A quick answer to that.] Though it seems to be growing more and more permanent. His spending habits are not always the most reasonable, you know.

Edited 2017-05-18 20:21 (UTC)

I have an idea. I was hopeless with money when I first moved here.

[So is Katherine, a fair bit. Not entirely awful, but one of these days she and Rosalind really ought to go over how to make a budget. Rinsing her hands off, she moves to lean against the counter, watching him as he works.]

Although I'm happy to say I was never so awful I lost my flat.

[He laughs, waiting for the water to boil, turning to look at her.]

No, that requires an impressive level of irresponsibility. Fynn is impulsive in many ways, and he decided to purchase a car that was far beyond his means. I suppose somewhere in all that madness he had forgotten that he still has to pay for rent. And food. And gas.

[He'll cross the kitchen to open up a cabinet, gathering up a mug.]

Though I can't blame him too much for it. When you come from an exceedingly rich family, it's difficult to control one's spending. It sounds like you know about that, as well.

I'd rather beg Fawkes for a place on his couch than ever give up my BMW.

[AH, TO BE YOUNG AND WEALTHY . . . to be perfectly fair, she's exaggerating.

But not by a whole lot. She likes what she likes, all right.]

Although, actually, you know, I hardly think I'd have to beg. He's the best assistant I've had yet-- do you know, he actually brought two umbrellas to class the other day, because he thought I might forget mine?

I wouldn't be terribly sad to see my BMW go. [His was gift from his parents, all those years ago. That's the only reason why.] The Mustang on the other hand, well...

[But he shrugs.]

It sounds like he knows you too well. That when your focus hones onto one certain thing, you're liable to forget everything else. Or am I wrong?

Certainly he's spent enough evenings listening to me complain about students to get a good grasp on my personality. But, ah . . . no, you're not. Not about my dedication, nor his knowing me.

I'm going to be sorry to lose him, once he finally finishes his thesis.

No need to be sad about it.

A bit more rummaging around, and he pulls out a couple of boxes of tea. It's not loose leaf, sorry, Ros, but it'll do for now.]

There's nothing to say that you can't still keep in touch after he's gone. I still speak to a few of my old students on occasion. Sometimes more than just on occasion.

[He motions at the tea.] Earl Grey? Oolong? ...Camomile?

Oh, Ardyn--

[Bagged tea? Really? Bro. Still, soon she nods towards the Earl Grey.]

I'm not sad, precisely. But I should think being friends with former students-- or assistants, for that matter-- is frowned upon.

[Listen, Rosalind, it's easy and convenient and he prefers coffee anyway! No judgment! (All the judgment.)

Still, Earl Grey it is. In goes a bag into the mug, and now they just continue to wait for the water.]

Frowned upon? There's nothing wrong with keeping in touch with your former students in a friendly, helpful capacity. I certainly don't expect to become best friends with any of mine, though- [Well, he shrugs.] A few of them have been affected by Retrospec recently as well. As a result, there are a handful of which that I speak with, with growing frequency. We complain about memories to each other, or try to unravel the city's mysteries. That sort of thing.

[DISGUSTING. SO MUCH JUDGEMENT.]

Mm.

[That's not a happy mm, not by any means. He's been doing this longer than her, and normally she'd defer to his experience, but there's something about the whole we're all friends on social media thing that seems as if it's going to somehow backfire, despite the fact that no one from the outside can see into this app.

Or maybe she's just a little odd when it comes to Fawkes. Who can say?]

Well. In any case, he's stuck with me for a bit of time yet. Is the water boiling?

[He raises a brow at her, though he doesn't say anything. He wonders how much the notion of losing her assistant really bothers her -- after all, everyone knows that it's only a matter of time before one's most favored students and assistants eventually leave to move along with their own lives. Such was the reality of being a professor, and how much contact one wished to keep with them depended wholeheartedly on preference.

But right on time, the kettle begins to whistle. Ardyn will prepare her tea, asking for her preference of sugar, etc., and eventually places the mug down on the counter close to her, offering it.]

You must be very fond of him.

Yes.

[Despite the fact it's bagged tea, it's still tea, and she sips at it with a little sigh. Fingers wrapping tight around the mug, she offers him a slight smile.]

Without a doubt. He's very clever, which is a relief, I don't think I could deal with a stupid assistant. But he's . . .

[She smiles wider despite herself.]

I suppose I simply enjoy his company.

[Ardyn settles across from her, and at her admission he can't help but lift a brow, taking in her expression.]

Mm-hm.

[He has the look of someone who appears to be musing over something, but not necessarily voicing it just yet.]

[She raises her brows herself, because she might not be able to guess his thoughts, but she at least knows that look.]

Have something to share with the class?

[And look how easily he pulls himself from his thoughts, voicing them instead.]

And how would you describe your attachment to him?

[Rosalind narrows her eyes, but doesn't yet insist on anything, lest she's entirely wrong about what he's getting at.]

I'm fond of him, as I said. I think he's brighter than most, and in some ways that reminds me of myself.

[He shrugs his shoulders.]

Nothing romantic, then?

[It's framed as a teasing sort of joke, because it sort of is. And yet-- well, it was what he was getting at, but if he's wrong, then he won't press the matter. He supposes just watching her reaction will do.]

[She'd been right, then, she'd been precisely right, and yet somehow that foreknowledge doesn't much come in handy as her scowl grows and her ears turn red. She has to be terribly careful about how she reacts in these next few seconds, she knows, because there's such a thing as protesting too much, and yes, he's teasing, but at the same time she can't simply blow him off.]

He's ten years younger than I am.

[He leans back, arms extended outward. It would be impossible for him not to find amusement in her reaction, even if she is mostly just tossing a scowl his way.]

Well, I'm not one to judge if he is!

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i'm sorry

*are you tho*

minutely

are you tho