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[daemonized]

ARDYN IZUNIA

Ardyn Izunia. Professor of law. Lord of law. Liege of law. The one grading your papers. Leave a message.

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[originallutece]

Suitable for a teacher as well.

[She's smiling faintly, pleased and a touch amused by his glancing away.]

Are you embarrassed?

[daemonized]

No, of course not. You know I don't get embarrassed.

[He says, still not looking at her.]

[originallutece]

And now you're lying.

[Any other situation, any other day, this would utterly delight her. But today . . . Rosalind uncurls one leg, nudging him lightly with her foot.]

Why on earth would this embarrass you? You're always encouraging me to be emotional; I would think you'd delight in this kind of caring.

[She knows why it would embarrass her, of course, but she and Ardyn are vastly different people.]

[daemonized]

My advice to you does not always apply to myself.

[Sounds hypocritical? Well, he means that not all advice should be the same for each individual person. Ardyn does look in her direction when nudged with her foot. It is purposefully schooled, with his usual telltale arch of a brow.]

It isn't something I simply wish to be known for. I'm more than just a "bleeding heart" [YOU CAN HEAR THE SCARE QUOTES] who frets over every little thing.

[He's the flippant professor, infamously strict on his students. (Because he cares too much.) He has an image -- not so much cultivated as it is him. The man who cares too much is, as well, but that is only for his closest to see.

And when it ekes out, so blatantly obvious, well. He doesn't dislike it, but it is embarrassing sometimes. That he's in actuality a bafflingly sentimental man.]

[originallutece]

Of course you are.

[She returns his arch look with one of her own, both eyebrows raised.]

I'm not going to go around telling everyone that you were worried for me. But you're treating it as an insult, when it's a trait I admire in you, Ardyn.

[daemonized]

[A hand comes up to run through his hair. Of course you are, she says. It's the truth, but you don't have to throw it back at him like that!!! She sounds like Grell. And Dante. God.]

Mmph.

[A very eloquent "mmph" at that, thank you very much.]

A compliment from you is one that I'll hold dear to my heart, so I'll take it as is.

[originallutece]

Thank god.

[She waits for a few seconds, letting that settle between them. It really is a trait she admires in him, and she wants it known that it's a good thing, a trait he ought to keep cultivating, not suppressing.

But one can't be sentimental forever. And so:]

Next time I'll simply stick to complimenting your pretty eyes, hm? Would that be better received?

[daemonized]

[Straight out of sentimentality, into joking? Ardyn seems to adjust to that well, after letting the previous silence linger for a moment.]

Oh? You think my eyes are pretty?

[originallutece]

Fervently. They're the subject of my next painting.

[Ain't no straight face like a Lutece straight face because a Lutece straight face is cultivated from years of having to pretend not to have emotions.]

[daemonized]

An oil painting I hope, none of that acrylic nonsense.

[Contrasted with the face of Ardyn Izunia who looks so damn amused now.]

Do be sure to get my good side. The most handsome Izunia requires nothing short of perfection.

[originallutece]

I prefer watercolors, but I was trained in oils, if you're so picky.

[Weirdly, this is true.]

You know, speaking of Izunia faces, I finally managed to speak to your brother. Angry sort, isn't he?

[daemonized]

Are you really?

[And yet, he can see it. Somehow sitting at an easel, paintbrush in hand, is an image that suits her.]

...Ah, Fynn. Angry, not always, unless Retrospec is involved. But he generally has a very... loud personality. He's always been that way, even when we were much younger.

[originallutece]

[Someday, maybe, she'll show him some of the things she's done. They're not really a secret, just not something she advertises all that much.]

Mm. I think I may have made a poor impression on him.

[NOT THAT SHE CARES, HONESTLY, but it's something to talk about.]

The subject was indeed Retrospec. And I was, ah, clinical in my assessment of them. He was not.

[daemonized]

I imagine not.

[Oh boy he has to hear about this conversation.]

Do tell.

[originallutece]

There isn't all that much to tell. He was incredulous anyone would want to work for Retrospec, I said I could certainly imagine wanting to work there, as what they're doing is a fascinating social experiment. He said it was amoral and horrid, and I said, yes, it is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't provide interesting results.

[daemonized]

I imagine he was very stubborn about it, too? Was this over text? There were probably a lot of exclamation points involved.

[Casually dragging Fynn, no biggie.]

[originallutece]

Things were bolded as well. He was very emphatic.

[daemonized]

[He scoffs a little, but at least it's fond.]

That sounds like him. As you might be able to imagine, we're opposites in many ways. He has a penchant for screaming and I... have a penchant for ignoring him.

[Which is mostly just his way of prodding at Fynn, even if he's not here. Such is the way of brothers.]

[originallutece]

This is the brother who lives here? That must make ignoring him rather difficult. I admire your dedication.

[daemonized]

It is. And it's not as difficult as you think. When you grow up refining the art of "how to ignore your siblings", it actually becomes quite easy.

[originallutece]

Thank god my mother only ever had me.

[Not . . . entirely by choice, Rosalind was certainly the last attempt, and god knows her mother had reminded her of that time and again, but that's neither here nor there.]

All I ever had to do to ignore her was to climb a tree.

[daemonized]

[He tries to imagine a young Rosalind climbing a tree to escape her mother. That makes him grin.]

Out of sight, out of mind, or so they say. Did you really climb trees to ignore the commands of your mother?

[originallutece]

Of course I did. She caught on quickly, but our estate was large enough that she never knew which tree, so I usually was given a bit of peace.

You would too, if you had my mother.

[daemonized]

[Now Ardyn is imagining many a square foot of green outdoors, dotted with trees, and little Rosalind hiding up in one of them.]

What she particularly... ah, overbearing?

[originallutece]

[She smiles wryly, which invites laughter, but there's something in her eyes that suggests this isn't quite as amusing as she'd want it to be.]

My parents would have preferred a son, but, given they only had me, my mother set out on the quest to make me the perfect daughter. The remnants of her lessons stick: I can still paint, play piano and speak French, and to my great disappointment, my posture is excellent.

But she's never forgiven me for not getting married when I was in my twenties, never mind the sin of not continuing her lineage. If it was up to her, I'd still be in England, sitting in my husband's mansion, watching the maids take care of the children while I . . . oh, god only knows. Sewed, I suppose.

So yes, overbearing is a way to put it. She hated my learning science, and so I often ran and hid where she couldn't catch me for a few hours.

[A beat, and then:]

I broke my arm once that way. She was furious.