worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

He heaves a sigh and leans on the mop. Apparently they're gonna do this. "You conveniently left out. When you were askin' me to help you out. The thing where Steve goes into a coma. Once or twice a year." He doesn't like the feeling of being manipulated by a friend. Especially when it wouldn't even have been necessary. He'd have helped either way.

Ah. He looks away, gathering the explanation out of the careful corner he's shoved it in.

"He does. But people disappear when they go into comas, more often than when they're awake. I can't start assuming he'll wake up, B. What if he doesn't? What if I told you that he would, made it sound like a guarantee, and I was wrong?" A hesitant, "It would kill me to be wrong about that. I didn't mean to mislead you, I just couldn't let myself count on the Admiral giving him back."

Which is fine and good, and he-- okay, he understands that. He'd have been pretty devastated, too. The thought still leaves his stomach swooping unhappily and his brain wanting to go in worried little circles. (It's over with, now, though. He's awake.)

But. It's the manipulation part. The leaving out of intel, as if he thought B might not take things seriously if he knew everything. As if B ever takes anything less than seriously. "I would have helped either way," B says. Then, with a little pause and a deeper frown, "You know he's important. To me."

"Yeah, I do." More important than perhaps anyone else B has ever known. "I'm sorry. I should have told you, regardless of how scared I was. I can promise I won't leave you out like that again."

Maybe not that important. (Yes, that important.) B considers Lark for a minute, with some actual eye contact there and everything, then nods once, accepting the apology, and goes back to mopping, though his attention is mostly on Lark. "So what did you need help with?"

"With Steve, actually. The reason he agreed to move in with me was because I do best with friends around me, and I had no one else I trusted. But I also wanted him with me because he was isolating himself." A faint sigh. "He and Alec don't get along, and I think he's going to use me having someone near me as an excuse to leave."

Well, shit. Of course he would use that as a reason to move out. Of course he would do that. "He's isolating himself even with you as a roommate," B grumps, giving the mop a dunk in the water and a squeeze with maybe more viciousness than the mop deserves. "I can try to talk to him. Hell. Isolated people are more likely to disappear, too. Maybe I can use that."

"How would you feel about continuing to stay at my cabin with us? You'd still have yours if you needed space. I'll have nights here and there at Alec's but he's taking on responsibilities too. We aren't a clingy couple anyway. This way we could keep the cabin a supportive, even a fun place for him to be."

And you, Lark doesn't add.

That's another way to make him stop mopping, apparently. B stills, looking vaguely confused by the offer, and a little... nervous, maybe. Uncertain, definitely. "You don't. Have another room. And I have a cat." And he doesn't think he could leave Vesta alone every night. That just seems mean.

"I can request as many rooms as I want," he shrugs. "And I don't mind cats. ...Anymore."

He won't pretend he was always tolerant of other animals, but he's grown slightly fond of cats over time. Alec has feline DNA in him, which probably is to blame.

"I don't think I can convince Steve without you."

Have another little glower, Lark. "No pressure, or anything," he says, bone dry.

He looks away again, frowning at the floor, and says, "Let me. Let me think about it. Maybe get some help with. With introducing animals to each other." Because he's less worried about Lark and Vesta getting along, and more worried about Thomas and Vesta, and Vesta and Libby.

"I deserve that," Lark admits, meaning I'm sorry even though he's not sure how to apologize for feeling desperate.

"If you can't do it, I will understand. It'll be okay." Because he can, at least, always promise that he'll have a plan B. He doesn't have one for this situation yet, but he has at least a day to come up with something.

The biggest concern is still Vesta. He's had the vague guilty feeling that he hasn't been treating her right, just while watching over Steve. Moving entirely... he just doesn't know. "Do you know anything about how cats should get along?" he asks, looking kind of worried.

"I know a bit. I know that they form groups of their own when they're in the wild, even though people think they're very solitary. I've known people here with more than one cat. I can look into it more if you like, see what people recommend."

"Yeah, that. Please. I'm pretty sure she'd just hit Libby on the nose if Libby annoyed her, and Libby would back off, but I don't know about Thomas." Over the course of the past month, he and Thomas have kind of made a careful truce, and they no longer completely avoid each other or circle like, well, wary cats. But Thomas and Vesta actually getting into a fight looms large in his brain.

"I'll let you know what I find. If there isn't an option you feel would work, then we'll do what's best for Vesta."

Lark knows from the other end of the leash what a pet can do for a person who's trying to believe the world won't shake them off their feet again. As badly as he wants B to stay near (it is not as much for Steve as he is letting on, though Lark himself hasn't fully realized it yet), he won't do anything to jeopardize what security B has found with his cat.

That's a relief. It'll be all about Vesta, and he doesn't have to ask anyone about how to do it, not yet anyway. B breathes out and picks up the mopping again. "Okay. Okay, thank you. I." He stares stubbornly at the wet spot on the floor. "I do want to help Steve. He shouldn't be alone, either."

"I know you do. We'll figure it out." Lark, even when he really wants a specific thing, won't pretend there aren't a dozen ways to get the same general goal achieved.

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