daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

Very upset. Can't you tell?

[Again, everything about him reads as not upset at all. The smile tugging at his lips should be the first proof of that.]

And don't try to downplay this revelation with talk of friendship. We may not have technically lost time, as I did still know you in some fashion, but not in the way I would've liked.

[Another farce. He would never define it as just friendship, because that implied a dismissiveness that he never applied to their interactions. She was a good friend, is still a good friend, even if there's far more to it now.

(But let him keep up the act, just for a bit longer.)

Ardyn is angled just right to be able to fall backwards onto her bed, and he'll do so, but not without bringing her down with him. When his back is against the mattress, his arms are still around her, he looks up at her face with a tilted grin.]

I'm distraught. What will you do to comfort me?

[he speaks of being distraught, and she's trying to not dissolve into laughter again. the smile on her face suggests as much, she can tell exactly how false his words are. but she'll indulge the act - there's no reason not to.]

I have a few ideas.

[leaning down over him, some of her hair falls forward over her shoulders, framing her face as her expression changes from simply stifling her laughter into something with a little bit of an edge.]

Certainly I can't just leave you like this.

[It's impossible for him to not feel that tinge of excitement in his chest when she gives him look like that. It's akin to being breathless and it's impressive that he manages to speak while ignoring the impulse to bring her close enough to kiss her, thus cutting their conversation short.

For now, said conversation lives long enough for him to retort. While her striking red hair frames her face, his own splays out slightly around him, head resting comfortably on the bed.]

Show me, then, these ideas of yours.

[the conversation is very secondary to anything else, because if there was a perfect moment to move closer and kiss him soundly, that was it. exactly in the way that she had wanted to for years, that she'd missed since they were drawn apart. kissing him until they're both breathless, and that's only the start of her plans.

later, they can laugh more at the absurdity of things. for now, there's this - and even if it took years, she's happy for it.]

[Happiness is a mutual emotion, but so are many others in this moment. Already his fixation is on Grell, unwavering and steady, manifested in a kiss. This devotion to her, this love, can be shown in more than just words and thought and emotion. He can prove it to her physically as well, and he's more than eager to as moments pass into minutes and then some.

And then we timeskip to baking. Because we can.

His hair might be a little more mussed than before, his shirt just a tiniest bit wrinkled, and maybe he's left his scarf in the other room -- but generally speaking, he's put-together again, and stands leaning against the counter of her kitchen as he watches her work on a project of the baking sort. Ardyn follows her movements with his eyes, grinning a little, and curiosity compels him to ask:]

Do you need help?

[because it's her apartment, she doesn't care about looking totally put together again, but getting dressed enough to be partially decent is sort of a prerequisite to baking, and tying her hair back keeps it out of the way. she's measuring water to add to the dry ingredients, looking over to him at the question.]

Maybe in a minute - I'm thinking about how I want to have this come out.

[ordinarily, she would have simply stayed in bed for a lot longer, to be lazy and happy in the way she feels afterwards. but the thought had occurred to her that since absolutely nothing was going in any sort of logical order, that could continue. so, when she'd felt like sitting up, she had, and announced that she was going to bake because why not. Ardyn was under no obligation to get up with her - that he did anyway, she thinks is sweet.]

[Ardyn would've lazed in bed with her as long as she liked, content in every imaginable way. But first and foremost he wants to spend time with her (for wasn't that what this day was about?), so when she gets up, of course he's going to find himself dressed and following. It may be hurriedly and a bit carelessly, but since when does he care so much about his appearance that he must have every little detail set correctly into place? He's sure he looks fine.

Honestly, he just wants to be near. That's all that matters.]

All right. And what is it that you're making, again?

[If she needs assistance, his hands are hers. Until then, he's content with watching.]

Shortbread, but there's going to be a raspberry filling.

[which she's also just decided on. strawberry is tricky on a good day, so she retrieves the berries from the fridge and hands them to him, plus a bowl.]

Could you wash them?

[she's proud of herself for putting out butter to soften before he'd even come over. perfect. meanwhile she's measuring out flour to mix with the baking powder and salt - gentle, she always has to be gentler than she thinks she is, because it's too easy to get a face full of flour.]

[It certainly sounds appetizing, that much is for certain. And when she suggests that Ardyn should wash the berries, he straightens and takes them from her, along with the bowl.]

Of course. An easy enough task for one such as myself.

[He chuckles to himself as he settles next to the sink, preparing everything to be washed. He rolls up his sleeves, and starts to run the water. Time to wash the berries, which honestly is the easier of the tasks -- as compared to her having to measure out the flour without turning it into a comedy of errors.

He speaks as he works.]

How very domestic, all of this. [It's said with a smile, therefore it's a good kind of domesticity.]

Domestic? You really think so?

[sugar and butter goes in another bowl to be mixed on its own, and that doesn't need a delicate touch. that can be beaten well, and it'll take her a minute or two to do this. she knows exactly how to do this - she's done it before - but it's the first time she had an assistant.

it's also not something she'd classify as domestic - but then again, her meter for what's domestic is very narrow.]

[The sound of the sink running provides a sort of white noise to their conversation for now, at least until he's finished with his task. It requires a gentle patience, so that the raspberries don't bruise.]

Don't you? What would you call it then?

Domestic is as good as a word as any other, I suppose. I'll allow it.

[it's more that it's relieving to get to have this calm - to be able to indulge themselves like this in the space between things happening. she may know exactly what goes where and for how long, and it may require precision, but...she's missed this, and in the end that's why she's up instead of lying in bed committing his face to even better memory.]

I haven't made this in a while, so if it comes out terrible, I want the honest review. Don't spare my feelings when it comes to something so important.

[She'll allow it, she says. He his shakes his head a bit, clearly still amused, but has little else to offer on the thought -- honestly, he could apply the word "domestic" to the entirety of the day, and mean it as nothing more than a compliment.]

I'll be the harshest critic you can imagine; almost as bad as in the classroom. No worries there.

[But he's sure there's no need for it. It'll turn out fine.

The berries are washed now, ready in their bowl and drained of excess water. Set aside until they're ready to be utilized.]

[it's not hard to mix butter this soft, but it needs to be light. lighter than this - and while mixers do exist, sometimes she likes doing it by hand. being able to do something with a careful purpose.]

Good, because I want them to taste good for you. Otherwise, there was no point in getting up at all.

[not for her, not for whoever's going to get the extra. for him, for no other reason than he's here.]

And we would have had these earlier if someone wasn't so decidedly ready to hasten things along.

[she can't say that when she was the opposite of complaining.]

[How unfairly sweet of her to say such things, that she would devote all of this to him. How on earth was he supposed to remain critical after that admission? (He can’t. He simply can’t.) One would think that after being so intimate with each other not that long ago, Ardyn would not be so prone to feeling flustered. This isn’t the case, noted by the way he glances to the side, and deciding that his hands need to be doing something, he plucks a raspberry from the bowl and tosses it into his mouth.]

Hm. [-is his very eloquent response. The berry is both sweet and tart, and goes down with relative ease.

It doesn’t take him terribly long to recover once he puts his mind to it, though. Smile turning wry, he continues.]

You’re far too good to me, Grell. Do you know that?

[He leans against the counter again, sliding back into a teasing lilt of his words. Drama ekes through, as is habit.] Humoring my impatience when all you hoped to do was just bake. Shuffling back out here in a hurry so that you could return to your original goals, in such haste that you’d not even bother putting your pants back on. What a fiend I must be, for my mind to have been so focused on sex that I was blinded to everything else.

[this is the kind of drama she can't even pretend to go along with for long before she's laughing again, looking back at him, unable to cover her mouth and muffle it because she's occupied. a fiend. that's too much.]

It's my apartment, I don't need pants to bake. And what haste?

[what was hasty about slowly dragging herself up and not putting on pants because it was more effort and unnecessary even as half of her had been debating leaving it be and staying exactly where she was?]

You're just jealous that in the end I chose this over lingering in your arms.

Jealous? Over a bit of butter and flour? Even I have more pride than that.

[But his smile is cracking at the edges, too, as he tries not to drop the act just yet. While he'd hate for her to get flour everywhere, he doesn't hate it enough to stop his dramatics. Honestly, this is tame as compared to the usual.

It's her apartment, and she doesn't need pants, though... That almost undoes his composure, but he manages to hold on.]

And why do you enjoy the freedom of no-pants while I find myself confined and restricted to proper leg coverage?

No one but yourself went and constrained you so. I certainly could not pass judgement if you saw fit to leave off articles of clothing - with none to witness but me, the question of propriety is less than moot.

[this is mild, yes, but she's also in a mindset to laugh more than usual, which makes it harder to stay serious.]

[Mildly ridiculous is about to become ridiculous cranked up to eleven, and he gives her fair warning by way of:]

Is that an invitation for me to remove my pants? Right here, in the kitchen?

Do I look in any way inclined to stop you?

[her hands are full. she can't stop him even if she wanted to. this'll be the second time he stripped to prove a point, she thinks.]

[Stripping to prove a point is the only way to go about it, honestly.

And so, if the invitation is real (for the theatricality certainly is), Ardyn finds it literally impossible to decline at this point. Therefore his pants are therefore unbuttoned and removed rather swiftly, and he's left quite literally standing there in just his shirt and boxers.

He holds up the article of clothing in one hand, as if to say, ta-da.]

Ah, freedom.

[for a second, Grell looks at him in disbelief.

and then she starts laughing again, arms moving to put the bowl down before she's laughing twice as hard as she was earlier, bracing herself on the counter as she just laughs at how ridiculous and cute and amazing it all is, that they were both the sort of people who'd do that to emphasize whatever point they were making. she hasn't laughed this hard in a long while, and when she catches her breath, she has to take off her glasses to wipe at her eyes.]

[He stands there, pants still bunched up in his hands, trying to look Very Dramatic in the newfound freedom his legs have found. But the sound of her laughter -- and the sight of her having to put the bowl down so that she can brace herself against the counter -- is just enough to crack his figurative armor.

He tries to speak, but it's interrupted by laughter making his words particularly difficult to form.]

What... [He tries again.] Why on earth are you laughing? This is... a very serious matter.

Serious as the grave.

[her shoulders are shaking, threatening to boil over into more laughter in the next five seconds.]

And yet...

[no, she's lost it again. thank god the counter's there or she'd fall over.]

[Any hope of regaining his composure is lost upon seeing her start doubling over in laughter the second time. The mask of theatricality slips, and Ardyn finds himself laughing with her -- wholly and openly, a very sincere sounding thing.

Despite himself, he's still trying to speak, even as he places his own hand on the counter to lean into just a bit in the meanwhile. And yes, he still has his pants in his other hand.]

You're-

[This is one of those moments where he's laughing because she's laughing and it's just one giant loop of laughter. Somehow, Ardyn still miraculously manages:]

You're laughing at me, as if I look ridiculous or something!

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