[ though she wishes he were someone different, she imagines that if he were, this really wouldn’t be as complicated as this. because who more than the very president of the company that’s long since controlled all the tides of her life would be as difficult to endure as company? maybe it’s worse because rufus isn’t necessarily downright cruel in the way he presents himself. not that she’s finding reasons to like him, really, but … being around him hasn’t been so much of a punishment per se, either. it’s almost more infuriating because of it.
taking a few bottles in hand by their necks, she brings them to arrange over on the counter, lining them up to consider in her head how she intends to mix them. ]
Yeah, you could probably use some pointers.
[ then again, she wonders how someone who doesn’t know him would regard him, considering her own tension comes from so much that’s been carried since before they’d even met.
her fingers pause in opening up a bottle at the mention of her mother. she’s quiet for a moment before answering with a small shake of her head. ]
No, not off-limits. Just … well, she died when I was really young. She’d been sick and it hit me pretty hard when I lost her. [ she’s caught staring at her hands for a moment before lifting her head and putting on a small smile. ] But she was the most beautiful person I ever knew, inside and out. She taught how to play piano before she passed, and so I kept that up to try to hold onto her.
[ she turns, distracting herself again by looking around for glasses. ]
You know, with all that the world’s talked about you and your father, I never heard anything about your mother. What happened to her?
[He's had a long time to learn how to hide his tells, and it's not as though her question about his mother comes unexpected; it's the obvious thing to ask him in return, after he'd all but opened the door by asking after hers. But he's still quiet for a little too long anyway, regarding the lay of the billiard balls a little too long, thumb rubbing idly against the cue he holds between both hands as he seems to dwell over how he wants to answer that question under the guise of evaluating his next shot.]
Similar. A car accident when I was young.
[And yet the memory of the punishment room in the resort's basement comes back to him, the lamplit elevator, Mummy knows best, you still need your mother —
No. That was nothing but phantoms and tricks. He doesn't even remember the sound of her voice, so any sort of charade could easily pass.]
I'm told I look like her, from people who knew her firsthand. She was responsible for me until I was about eight, and then after she died, tutors took over.
[He pauses, then seems to shrug his mood off and glances up, smiling wryly.]
She had me learn piano, too. That must just be a habit of mothers.
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taking a few bottles in hand by their necks, she brings them to arrange over on the counter, lining them up to consider in her head how she intends to mix them. ]
Yeah, you could probably use some pointers.
[ then again, she wonders how someone who doesn’t know him would regard him, considering her own tension comes from so much that’s been carried since before they’d even met.
her fingers pause in opening up a bottle at the mention of her mother. she’s quiet for a moment before answering with a small shake of her head. ]
No, not off-limits. Just … well, she died when I was really young. She’d been sick and it hit me pretty hard when I lost her. [ she’s caught staring at her hands for a moment before lifting her head and putting on a small smile. ] But she was the most beautiful person I ever knew, inside and out. She taught how to play piano before she passed, and so I kept that up to try to hold onto her.
[ she turns, distracting herself again by looking around for glasses. ]
You know, with all that the world’s talked about you and your father, I never heard anything about your mother. What happened to her?
no subject
Similar. A car accident when I was young.
[And yet the memory of the punishment room in the resort's basement comes back to him, the lamplit elevator, Mummy knows best, you still need your mother —
No. That was nothing but phantoms and tricks. He doesn't even remember the sound of her voice, so any sort of charade could easily pass.]
I'm told I look like her, from people who knew her firsthand. She was responsible for me until I was about eight, and then after she died, tutors took over.
[He pauses, then seems to shrug his mood off and glances up, smiling wryly.]
She had me learn piano, too. That must just be a habit of mothers.