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[originallutece]

Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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[originallutece]

[Tequila it is, then. She'll be able to handle one shot, at least, and they can see how he takes two or three. Lime and salt are subsequently produced (the former is quite the marvel; her kitchen is well stocked nowadays thanks to Fawkes).]

Regardless of your tolerance, I think you owe Noctis a drunk call.

[daemonized]

[Tequila is perfect, and he's more than ready to feel the buzz (maybe more than a buzz) created from a night of drinking too much hard liquor. He'll speak idly, with humor, already reading the salt at his fingertips.]

You think so? I don't know about giving a student that much ammunition to use against me.

[originallutece]

They're oddly reluctant to use it. I don't know if it's because it's we're all bonded thanks to Retrospec or if this current batch is simply kinder than the others, but none of them have been inclined towards using what ammunition has been granted to them.

[Which simply begs the question, of course, and so before he can ask, she downs her first shot. Being tequila, it's a bit of a process (and being tequila, it means she shivers a little as it goes down), and once it's done, she adds:]

Besides. Noctis knows he'd catch hell from me if he tried a stunt like that.

[daemonized]

And what makes you so certain he'd not catch hell from me?

[He'll take his own shot while she answers. Salt first, tequila, then lime. It goes down nice and fiery, and he holds back a shudder.]

[originallutece]

Because he's my son.

[She pulls a little face at that: wry and a little embarrassed, because she's still not sure how he feels about that.]

Or at least: he views me at a parental figure. Reprimands will be much harsher from me.

[daemonized]

[A brow raise; it speaks for quite a bit, that she would readily claim Noctis as her son. But he'll not judge. What's wrong with seeing someone as a parental figure, after all? Nothing.]

What does that make me, then? The eccentric uncle?

[They're supposedly related after all.]

[originallutece]

[She shrugs in response to his unspoken surprise.]

He called me Mum. We're committed to this, I suppose. And no, I rather think it makes you his grandfather; you're far too old to be any sibling of mine. You're nearly forty.

1/2

[daemonized]

[I rather think it makes you his grandfather

you're far too old to be any sibling of mine

you're nearly forty

nearly forty




the betrayal is real.]

[daemonized]

Don't-

[god]

Don't round me up as if those two years between myself and forty do not exist. I am not there yet, and still far too young to be anyone's grandfather.

[originallutece]

[She has to duck her head to stifle her laugh; her fingers press against her mouth for a few seconds, but soon she's glancing back up at him.]

Did I hit a sore spot?

[daemonized]

No.

[Yes.]

As I said, I would just appreciate it if I'm not so hurriedly rushed out of my thirties by others.

[originallutece]

Poor Ardyn! I'm terribly sorry I rounded up, what can I do to make it better?

[daemonized]

I know that you’re in inwardly laughing at me. But what you can do is merely never round me up again.

[originallutece]

I'm most certainly not. And I'll do my best, Ardyn, but I don't look forward to the sulking when you really do hit forty.

[But speaking of birthdays--]

Are your nephews throwing you a party, by the way, or was that mere idle speculation on Togusa's part?

[daemonized]

[He doesn't sulk! He won't sulk. Gosh, Ros.]

A party? [He blinks in vague surprise.] I wouldn't put it past them, but at the same time, they've not mentioned anything of the sort. I see no reason to make a spectacle of the day, regardless.

[originallutece]

Indeed.

[Straight up she let her last birthday pass without mention, so she feels him on this.]

Though I'd be remiss in not giving you something to mark the occasion. Is there anything you're particularly eager for?

[daemonized]

Not at all.

[Even he does need or want something (scarves, Rosalind. Always scarves.), Ardyn is one of Those People. The sort impossible to buy a gift for, because they will tell you that they have everything they need, and there is absolutely no need to go to the trouble of buying them anything.]

A "Happy Birthday, Dearest Friend in All the World" would not go amiss, though.

[originallutece]

[She gives him a Look.]

We go through this every year, Ardyn.

[daemonized]

[Just that little grin of his in return.]

So then you really should stop wasting your breath, Rosalind.

[originallutece]

[No she just keeps going, it's like he hadn't even spoken]

And every year, I have to run around and try and figure this out on my own, when you could very simply tell me what you want, and I know you do want things, because you're just as human as the rest of us.