heartlandresort | nan desu ka

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nan desu ka

Stop right there--!

[ this being the point at which he bursts through the door, strikes a pose very briefly with his cape flapping in the gentle breeze from the fan to the right, eyes up the adversary and readies himself for battle;

except that this is sort of definitively not the studio. it's a little (a lot) more like a deserted main street, with exactly zero cameras or set pieces or even screaming fans.

(the last part is a relief more than anything)

much at a loss for what to do next, and faced with the total lack of any familiar faces, he falls back on information he's gathered from his time as robin: that it's really fun to prank child actors sometimes. ]

Guys...? W-was there a page of the script I missed?

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[ he lifts slender shoulders in a barely-noticeable shrug. ]

I've played stranger parts.

[ there's a discontinuity between the face in front of him and the one that pops up on tv now and again after his show airs--but it's something that he knows better than to comment on.

(of course, it's negligible compared to the difference between his own public and private personas--something he's maintaining out of habit judging by his relative nonchalance) ]

...But we really can't get out?

[ (ignore the way his voice quavers ever so slightly) ]

[ There's a little twitch at Fuuya's question, and then Thomas tosses his head like a dog shaking off water. ]

The gates in the walls are shut tight.

So no, we can't.

Jeez, just our luck...

[ he can't help but wish that he'd at least had the chance to finish filming before ending up here. he'll really be for it when he gets back.

he lapses back into silence briefly, gaze fixed on the other, before tipping his head to one side like a curious little pup. ]

So are you going to stage an escape, or is this... acceptance... all we're getting?

[ it's a bold statement, and one he manages to regret saying almost immediately. whoops. ]

[ Well. Fuuya himself can have a dirty look for his troubles, at least. ]

What exactly do you expect me to do? Look at the walls. We're not getting out.

[ Besides. Just being here instead of back home is more of an escape than he'd ever predicted getting, to be honest. ]

[ he puffs out his cheeks, acting every bit his age because wow trying to be more assertive doesn't work well when the other person isn't showing their fighting spirit. ]

Don't be so pessimistic! I, D.D. ESPer Robin will get us all out of here!

[ right, of course. because hiding behind the superhero image he's constructed is totally the best way to do this. ]

[ He snorts quietly to himself.

(the underground would eat this kid alive, and he's... not quite sure when he started thinking about everything in those terms) ]

How exactly do you plan on doing that?

[ Maybe his own face image would be a good one to hide behind, too; good for making a better impression, at least. But playing the charming and innocent face is draining enough even when he's not generally exhausted, let alone now. ]

Well, uh...

[ --briefly lost for words as he eyes the towering bulk of the wall. his first idea had been something along the lines of just climbing out, but... yeah, that might need a little rethinking. ]

If we got a grappling hook... Do you think we could get one somewhere? I mean--we'll definitely find one somewhere, right, and get someone who's good at throwing to try get it up there.

[ (it's so much harder to be boundlessly optimistic and craft masterful plans when there's no script to read off) ]

[ He. He actually.

Thomas stares at Fuuya for long moments and then laughs, abruptly.

Forget the underground - Thomas is pretty sure the entire world is going to eat him alive.

(up until so recently he'd probably have wanted to get the collars on Fuuya himself, see what he'd make of them and hear what noises he'd make)

(now, the idea of it mostly makes him feel sick)

(mostly) ]

You really think-- you seriously think that'd work?

[ despite his best attempts to suppress it, he flushes red at the laughter, turning his face away quickly to hide it.

(he'd rather the other laughed than antagonised him but--he's trying his best in a bad situation and he can't ignore that it stings a little) ]

O-of course! It'd take teamwork and effort but people can do anything if they set their minds to it--!

[ (he's starting to actually believe it) ]

[ The laugh cuts off then, even more abruptly than it started. ]

If you really believe that, you're an idiot.

[ If that were true, would Michael be unconscious? Would IV be what he is? Would the son of their enemy be the closest he has to a friend in the underground?

...no. He can't believe that. ]

[ he crosses his arms over his chest--defensive, protective.

(and really he should bite his tongue but--assertiveness--and he's still robin enough to bear it) ]

I'm an idiot because I'm not completely beaten down and faithless? Fine by me!

[ he's basing his judgments off the gap between public and private faces which he knows is a terrible thing to do but the fact of the matter is that the figure in front of him isn't even trying

(as if he's realised the mistake he made he seems to shrink back into himself, awaiting the worst) ]

[ Beaten down and faithless?

...yeah. He supposes he is, huh?

(who the hell wouldn't be?)

Taking a couple of steps closer, Thomas lifts himself up a little and stares down at Fuuya. ]

And how long would that last if you'd gone through even half the things I have?

[ he matches thomas' advance without thinking by stumbling back, nearly tripping over the edge of his cape--

(it would be comical if he wasn't verging on terror)

(but he'll summon some last vestige of courage, in any case) ]

W-well--how am I supposed to know that? I don't know what you've been through! All I know is that you've given up--

[ his jaw snaps shut and he doesn't say another word, focusing his efforts on not meeting the other's gaze. ]

[ Thomas hisses sharply, forcing himself to stay still and not step any closer. ]

That I've given up? If I'd given up I would be dead. That's how it works. That's what quitting is.

[ Breathe deep and reign it in, count up and up; to four, to five, to four again under his breath. ]

[ ah, he's made a grave error in judgment. thinking that he knew anything of the other's situation, of his life.

(the struggles of a child actor are nothing compared to the real world)

--his shoulders, held strong and rigid finally slump, shrinking him down even further. ]

...If the other choice is death, then you have to fight.

[ murmured, almost inaudible, but he flicks his gaze up briefly to the other's face and there's something akin to a challenge in his eyes. ]

[ Some of the fight has gone out of Thomas now, though he still waits a few more moments before he responds.

(one-two-three-four-five; he thinks of Kaito and wonders where he is) ]

...this is me fighting.

[ It's not much, no. But it's all he has left in him. ]

[ a curious feeling comes upon him. it might be sympathy. ]

Then show it. Fight to get back to what matters to you.

[ it, and the smile he manages to flash, are so obnoxiously motivational it's almost laughable.

(but it worked for him when yuma tried it, so who's to say it won't work for thomas, too) ]

...fighting won't get back any of the things that matter to me. Nothing will do that.

[ There's no bite to it now though, no confrontation. Just resignation; this is how it is and he can't believe anything different to that. ]

[ he straightens up again, settles into a more natural posture now that the two of them are on something closer to an even standing. ]

Fight for new things that will matter to you someday, then. For a brighter future. Or something.

[ a brief pause, momentary hesitation and he reaches out a hand to clasp the other's shoulder in a hopefully-not-crossing-any-lines kind of way.

(also in a comforting way, but.) ]

[ He was all prepared to just brush it off, just tell Fuuya that that's nonsense. That someone like him doesn't get brighter futures, happy endings.

And then Fuuya clasps his shoulder.

Thomas' eyes go wide and he jerks back, shoving the hand off of him as he backs up a few steps. ]

Don't-- don't touch me.

[ oh.

it seems he's made a mistake. ]

I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it-- -

[ (flinching away even as the other retreats) ]

Look, are you all right...?

[ and it's a stupid question but he's exhausted his repertoire by this point and really this is much too intense for his first time meeting someone ]

Tch. Do I look it?

[ There's no real bite to it, again. The sullenness of someone whose pride is bruised most of all, and nothing else - because his pride is bruised, isn't it? There's a kind of defense in the exhaustion, in the sullen resignation, in as much as there can be.

But this? Something so clearly getting under his skin that way?

(this kind of thing is what got him as broken-down as he is, isn't it?)

Hissing through his teeth, Thomas turns his head to avoid looking at Fuuya. ]

Just forget it, okay? And don't touch me.

Okay. Hands off.

[ he crosses his arms again as an extra showing of his willingness to comply (and also to keep himself safe, but-)

(though he's not exactly sure what there is to protect against when thomas' claws are so dull) ]

...Back to the matter at hand, then? Are we still masterminding an escape, or--?

[ maybe distraction is a better tactic at this point. ]

[ Another little hiss through his teeth, more to himself this time, and Thomas shakes his head sharply. ]

It won't work out. Besides, it's not as though I particularly want to be back home, so why would I even want to escape?

[ What's there waiting for him, after all? ]

[ his brows lift in innocent curiosity, tipping his head to one side yet again. ]

Why? What's wrong with home?

[ (what) ]

Wait no I don't mean to pry--

[ (shit fuck that is almost guaranteed to be the wrong thing to ask) ]

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