capeandcowl | voice;

Entry tags:

eridan ampora | prince of hope

voice;

So.

Any a you ewer had a nemesis before? Like fated fuckin' contentiousness, always gettin' up each others' gills doin' shit just to irritate 'em, duelin' to practically the death, maybe makin' out a little, that kinda thing.

See, I'm in the market for just that particular arrangement, and while I'm personally a master of the bellicose arts and don't need any adwice or nothin', I obwiously got a wested interest in how humans go about poorly imitatin' the quadrant. What with my bein' the main troll-human confidante in these parts and such.

[he pronounces it "con-fee-dawn-tay". also he means intermediary.]

Despite most of you bein' from a society bearin' a sewerely inferior romance system and therefore gettin' your emotions all scrambled up wrong from the get-go 'cos of it, I'd appreciate hearin' some personal tales.

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Why else would anyone engage in any topic, if there wasn't some personal stake? [As wayward a yes as they'll come.

He gives pause.]

That isn't the consistency of a homemade cookie in you mouth, is it?

It's a pen. It isn't homemade, no.

[She coughs, to hide a laugh. It's not very effective. ] What is he to you, I wonder?

A pen in hand would imply that you're putting it to use. And are you, right now? [Because immediate use implies another set of things. And, a touch aggressively:] He is what any highly intelligent individual worth my time would be.

Would you consider him useful? Or perhaps worthy of rivalry?

[She pauses. ] I have been putting it to use for about ... oh, ten minutes into this conversation? I think you did not know me very well, Mr. Nygma, if you didn't expect me to begin writing a profile on you the moment you began to preen.

A profile. [The word DRIPS from his teeth, like venom from a snake.] You're profiling me. Me?

[ALL OTHER QUESTIONS OUT THE WINDOW, HE IS BEING psychoanalyzed.]

You ought to desist.

You sound upset Mr. Nygma.

[Rose Lalonde does what she wants. She writes down aversion to analyzing. ]

I have a terribly bad habit, admittedly. I often do things that I shouldn't do.

Your observing and interpreting our interactions, and undoubtedly making conjectures from that. What isn't there to be upset over?

[He hisses:]

I analyze, my dear, I'm not the one who gets analyzed. Especially not in a psychological sense, and I would advise that you preserve yourself by fighting the temptation.

It does come as a shock when you find the shoe on the other foot, doesn't it?

[She's smiling. She chins a hand. ] What harm could a fourteen year old girl possibly do by taking a few notes, Mr. Nygma?

We've already discussed how you are no average teenage girl, Ms. Lalonde. I think such a loaded question deserves its implicitly rhetorical status.

You shouldn't worry, Mr. Nygma. It's against the law for a psychiatrist to breach doctor-patient confidentiality.

[Where is Karkat telling her to shut up when she needs him. ]

[Oh. The tension is his voice cannot be masked.]

You are not my psychiatrist. Ms. Lalonde.

No, I'm not. Perhaps in a decade when if I complete my degree.

[A pause. ]

How about a deal, Mr. Nygma?

[He hisses, but gives pause. The shrink remark prickled his skin, but it would be of greater consequence to dwell on that right now. When he speaks, his drawl returns.]

What sort of deal?

This piece of paper on which I have written down your finer qualities will mysteriously disappear. In exchange for the name of your previously mentioned party with an interest in myself, that is.

And you realize, of course, that because of my City-specific power, I will know if you neglect to keep your word. Not that a woman of your integrity would, but still. It's in the open.

I want it disappeared without any copies made, without others knowing of it. And then we have a deal.

[She sighs, drawing a harsh, heavy X through her cueball doodle.]

I am hurt that you would even suggest that I would have considered writing all of this down again at a later date. Wounded, even. Fine. I promise not to repeat a word of what I have written nor to write it down again.

[She pauses, sighs again and tears the page out of her note book, and then tears it down the middle. ]

Nothing personal, Ms. Lalonde, it's just how the game is played. [But he sounds a touch gleeful over the dramatics.]

His name is Norman Osborn. He's the CEO of Oscorp and an unnecessarily smug chemist. He has a history as both a hero and a villain.

I suspect the word game doesn't mean the same thing to you as it does to me.

[She chews her pen again. Smugly:]

Thank you for the name, Mr. Nygma. And thank for not specifying that my note taking on your person cease indefinitely. It's been a pleasure doing business with you.

I think I play a different word game entirely, true.

Ah, but of course. I wouldn't want to stifle your interest entirely.

[Now that he knows he has her audience, and the opportunity to control what could be interpreted, from here on out. Whether or not that's a realistic goal isn't Eddie's concern (of course he thinks it is!), but the concept of maintaining tabs on her habit is appealing.]

I am, after all, trying to inspire the younger generation.

Do you consider yourself an inspiration, Mr. Nygma? I wouldn't say that I am feeling inspired as much as I am intrigued.

[Rose thinks she could fill a whole notebook on Edward Nygma. This is exciting. ]

I think this is the most engaging conversation I've had in weeks.

I suppose what I inspire is, indeed, the question. If you're intrigued, well, I can work with that.

[Oh Rose, if only he knew your intent!]

Is it now? Only in weeks?

Can you really?

[She isn't is sneaky as she would like to be, alas. ): ]

Only weeks. To answer your question, perhaps I should ask what it is you hope to inspire?

Edited 2012-09-27 23:12 (UTC)

You should, certainly, but I would say that's a rather personal question to come so easily. Don't you agree? [He takes a light tone for this, something playful.] After all, we have such an exchange of information going on right now.

I would say it's a very ample opportunity to gloat or preen. [But, she'll bit. ] Is there something you want to know, Mr. Nygma?

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