dragon_twin | (no subject)

Entry tags:

angela,
milliways

(no subject)

Melou stomps up the stairs to Angela's room and when he enters, the door slams nicely behind him. He places the fox gently enough in the pile with the other toys he acquired the day before and then slumps in a chair, sulking.

If Angela is around, she's got one broody prince on her hands.

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Angela is towel-drying her hair when she hears the door slam. She frowns, her brow furrowing, then drops the towel in the sink.

She comes out of the bathroom, looking concerned. "Hey. What's wrong?"

For all he's really, really mad, his voice is quiet. "I talked to him."

Angela can tell he's angry, and she shifts nervously before coming to sit down nearby. "Who?" she asked softly, running her fingers through her hair.

"Mordred." It's said even more quietly as he glances down at the toys.

"I wanted to know for sure if he made any of them."

"Oh." She looks at them, particularly at the foxes. "And did he?"

Though she has the feeling she knows the answer to that already.

"Yeah, the foxes. I remember them the most." Actually, they're the only ones he remembers at all.

She's puzzled, really. She's never quite understood why he gets so angry with the alternate version of his father. She has theories, but he'd probably just laugh at them or get even more pissed off.

"So...why are you angry?"

"Because he's a patronizing arsehole," he snaps.

Angela frowns again, still confused. "Your conversation obviously didn't go well."

If he doesn't talk about it, he's just going to get more and more pissed off because he'll just seethe about it inwardly.

And then he'll drink too much again. Not that he won't, anyway, but it'll just happen even more.

Still, she wouldn't mind having a Kevlar vest around her heart for this sort of thing.

"Well, I don't know that I'd call 'Did you make this?' 'Yes, now fuck off.' a conversation."

Melou slumps further in the chair.

"No, it wouldn't be," she says, a little shocked.

Who the fuck says stuff like that?

She comes over a little closer. "I'm sorry that happened," she says softly.

Pendragons who have been taught to channel most negatiove emotions into anger say things like that all the time.

"Yeah, well, I told him the same thing last time," he admits. "At least I got to say it first."

Angela would facepalm at this point, but it would probably just exacerbate the situation.

She nods. "So what are you going to do with the toys?"

He shrugs. "Give Mele his. He can do what he wants with them. Mine... I don't know. I almost gave it back to him."

Angela nods again. "But you kept it," she observes.

"It's mine," he answers softly. "I remember I liked it."

"Yeah. I can imagine you did." She fingercombs through her still damp hair. He doesn't seem angry anymore...but he does seem sad, which makes her sad, too.

Oh he'll get back there eventually.

"Besides, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he got to me."

He usually does.

Angela nods. "Yeah." She's not quite sure what to say about that...not when it's obvious that he did get to him.

"I was even civil. Didn't do a damn thing to antagonize him and he just had to be his usual bastard self." Oh, look. Back to angry.

Angela sighs inwardly. That was quick.

And he needs to talk so she just nods and listens, looking a little worried.

He's always tearing himself up inside and I can't help or anything...

Melou just continues.

"And fine, I wasn't all that nice to him last time, but fuck, he'd just told me he didn't care about us or Mam and that my father didn't really care about me and I was fourteen."

God, that sucks, she thinks, but she just nods, and the look on her face is...very concerned, very sympathetic. She doesn't know what else to do but listen, so she does.

He can continue as much as he needs or wants to.

"All I wanted to know was if he made them like he said he did. 'Cause you know, Mam said he was nice to us when we were little so maybe he did make them and maybe I thought I might be able to tell him that was kind of a nice thing to do and he had to be a complete arse about it right off."

Oh, she thinks.

She just wants to hug him now, but she has the feeling that would not be conducive to him talking more.

She wishes there were something she could say or do to make it better.