open post.

[recreatable]

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[recreatable]

Never mind. I hate hands.

[elsecall]

I'm not convinced the opposite extreme is any better.

[recreatable]

Then I have no strong feelings on them one way or another. Entirely neutral.

[elsecall]

What a strange and obvious lie to tell.

[ Or, wait — is this one of those lies that she's just supposed to take as-is, despite itself? She's never been good with those. Then again, she's never felt compelled to unsay something she's already said. ]

[recreatable]

Hey. I shared something personal with you, and you're giving me shockingly little opportunity to regain my dignity.

[elsecall]

[ ...She's not convinced dignity can be regained by willful ignorance. But, okay. Fine. ]

I think you'll find — upon review of the transcripts — that any judgement you may feel is a fabrication on your part.

[ All she did was ask! Surely. Surely, her careful silences couldn't have been interpreted any other way. ]

[recreatable]

[ A purposeful echo of her words prior: ] If you say so.

[elsecall]

[ Touché. ]

Honest — whether you have a preference for nice hands or not...or whatever is fine. More than fine.

[ Big, rallying breath! Jasnah, you can do this! ]

I'm sorry for making you feel otherwise. It's miserable thing to feel.

[recreatable]

It's all right. We haven't all transcended interest in appearances. Some of us are still exceedingly shallow.

[elsecall]

[ Oh. That stings. As if she hadn't thought — in lower moments, in the aftermath of a relationship — that it's her apathy that requires transcending. ]

I don't believe you're exceedingly shallow.

[recreatable]

But perhaps you might believe I'm charmingly self-deprecating, if you'll allow me to be.

[ It hadn't been meant as an insult, just a reflex against her apology—gently putting himself down so she didn't have to feel the need to be sorry. ]

[elsecall]

[ She almost, almost, almost tells him she prefers him charmingly self-aggrandizing — but holds off. ]

I imagine I couldn't ever stop you.

[recreatable]

No? I am but your humble servant, ma reine.

[elsecall]

Don't you think it sets a dangerous precedent if I command how someone speaks?

[recreatable]

Then I guess you have no choice but to tolerate my charming self-deprecation for years to come.

[elsecall]

[ Years. Maybe the word, plural, feels less daunting to someone so long-lived. ]

And once the monarchy is abolished?

[recreatable]

Guess I'll have to get another job.

[elsecall]

[ Imagining it, she feels a pang of something. Sadness? ]

...Me, as well.

[ Maybe she'll simply go back to scholarship. That could be nice. ]

[recreatable]

Get good enough at the piano, and maybe I'll let you join my band.

[ Just teasing, of course. Obviously, Jasnah has a greater future than that. ]

[elsecall]

And that would leave you to play what, exactly?

[ Even in this hypothetical, she's disinclined to deprive him of the piano. ]

[recreatable]

Hey, I told you I always wanted to duet.

[elsecall]

[ A duet, then. ]

Alright. A duet, then. Something to look forward to.

[ When wars are won and crowns are set aside and — perhaps most challenging of all — she can at adequately keep up with him at the keys. ]

[recreatable]

J'ai hâte.

[elsecall]

[ A fine little daydream. Safe enough, maybe, to indulge in even as the fate of the planet remains uncertain. ]

Hmm. Shall I guess?

[ One moment while she reviews her notes. J'ai is I have. So he has what...? Hope? Agreement? Doubts? ]

[recreatable]

"I can't wait."