daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[This wouldn't be happening if you weren't so determined to mercilessly tease her every opportunity you got, Ardyn.

Seriously: years of friendship and you've always been a torment, cruelly teasing her over her paramours, hideous in your pointed provocation. She has suffered. God, but she has suffered; it's been years of having to put up with this.

So when she shows up that night, armed with a large department store shopping back and some very expensive scotch, he really only has himself to blame.]

[She hasn't suffered so much to appear at his doorstep like this, has she? That they must celebrate his birthday? He was so inclined to just let it quietly slip by, something to go unnoticed for the rest of the year.

And so she's only greeted with a raise of the brow. And a question, bathed in fake ignorance:]

And what's all this about?

[IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S A SPECIAL DAY OR ANYTHING.]

I think you know.

[He's being forcibly handed that bag of presents (they're all wrapped in there, but no peeking anyway) as Rosalind makes her way in, because of course he's going to invite her in.]

Don't jostle that, now, there's something sweet in there.

Mm. Tell me something. Do you remember my first year here? Or I should say: my first birthday here? When I turned thirty-two and you took me out for a drink, despite only barely knowing me, because I'd just moved here and hadn't anyone with whom I could celebrate it . . .

[Ah, she can just put the scotch on his table, perfect, and she goes around, just OPENING CABINETS LIKE SHE LIVES HERE, grabbing two glasses for them.]

This, more or less, is because of that. That, and a thousand other reasons. Now sit down and stop sulking over the fact I care about you.

[Well, in comes Rosalind, as he's forced to take the bag of mystery gifts in his hands. He follows her with his eyes as she moves about like she owns the place, and while he isn't surprised, he does have to exhale in something that is almost exasperation.

But... it's still impossible for him to not feel even a flicker of amusement at this development, regardless. Especially when she brings up memories of the past.]

Yes, I do remember that. [He moves to set the bag of presents down, though he does wonder what the something sweet might be.] But it was different then -- you were thirty-two. I am not.

[He once again references that slow, slow crawl to forty.]

Were you like this when you left your twenties, too? I hate to sound cliche, but it's simply a number. You're not any different from yesterday simply because your age is one year higher.

But put a few of those years together [like one will have to do when he reaches forty] and the changes do add up. I'd rather not have to think about entertaining a midlife crisis at all, if I don't have to. And the easiest way of going about that? To pretend my birthday doesn't exist.

[That being said... it's not like he doesn't appreciate the effort that Rosalind's gone to, to make sure that this day is celebrated even if it wasn't planned on his part.]

[She's been glancing around as she settles on his couch. There's cats everywhere here, of course, Erebus and Morla and Rochester, and she's actually grown to know them all. But though she hadn't been certain at first, now she is--]

Did you get another cat?

Good god, and here I thought your midlife crisis would come in the form of a car. Though now that I say it, I hardly know why; this is much more your speed.

[Ros what did he just say about wanting to avoid a midlife crisis, about being tender about his age, come on Rosalind]

Didn’t I just say that I don’t want to even entertain the notion of a midlife crisis?

[THANKS FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT ROSALIND]

She was a birthday present. A generous gift by one of Grell’s close friends.

[Ardyn will wander over to where the little kitten is — a six month old calico, mewing curiously as he approaches. Wiggling just a little as he bends down to pick it up, cradling it in his arms. He walks over to Rosalind.]

Her name is Penelope. Say hello.

[Penelope mews again and it’s so obvious that Ardyn is smitten with this kitten… like a big softie that he is.]

Odysseus' wife? Or did you have another Penelope in mind?

[Give Rosalind's own little goblin this: he's taught her how to properly approach a cat. There's a lot more experience in the way she brushes her fingers against the top of Penelope's head, scritching one of her ears.

Or hey, maybe that's Fawkes' influence. Kinda hard not to know how to scratch an animal's ears when your boyfriend spouts a pair once every fortnight.

Either way! Penelope seems pleased, and in turn Rosalind as well.]

How many do you think you're going to end up? Just so I know. Six? Eight?

She already had the name Penelope when I was given her. Grell has taken to calling her Penny.

[Which he supposes doesn't answer the question, so-] If we're to go with the theme, then yes. We shall say her namesake is Odysseus' wife. Loyal thing that she'll grow up to be.

[Penny just continues to look pleased at the new attention, though a little paw does come up to bat at Rosalind's fingers playfully.]

And don't worry, I draw the line at eight cats.

[HE COMES FROM A CAT CRAZY FAMILY APPARENTLY, THIS PROBABLY ISN'T TRUE]

I'm going to stop coming over at six. Just so you're aware.

[Just so he knows. Rosalind smiles faintly, her fingers wiggling to keep the cat's attention, secretly delighted the cat seems interested in her.]

Mm . . . come here. Give her to me; you've a few things to open.

You wouldn't do such a thing.

[But he hands Penny over to Rosalind, little mewing thing that she is. Soft and cuddly, as all kittens should be.]

Look at you, becoming more of a cat person as the days pass.

Don't spoil this.

[She most certainly is not becoming that, and any sweetness or joy she feels at holding Penny carefully is completely coincidental.

But there are presents to open, and a cupcake (small, but bought from a bakery Rosalind enjoys who knows you oughtn't put too much frosting on sweets) for him to eat. The presents are fairly numerous: a piece of paper, first of all, telling him that this will be arriving soon; a giftcard to a local pet shop, because of course he's going to want more cat things, she's just accepted that; a book on particularly interesting law cases, ones that either appeal on a baser sense or are simply interesting from a law point of view, and--

And, alas, a scarf. It's garish, bright kelly green and patterned with little chocobos, and she hates it, which likely means he'll love it.]

[Oh, Rosalind. This is too much. She's too good of a friend. He would've been happy with just her company and the cupcake.

All of these things are met with (sincere) surprise and gratitude, because one always needs more things suited for drinking, one always needs more cat supplies, and one must always need more reading material when it comes to amusing law cases and why they were ruled on in a particular way. He laughs at the group of all these presents, thanking her, but when he gets to the chocobo scarf--

Well. It's frankly amazing.]

Chocobos!

[-he says, as if it weren't obvious when he admires the scarf in his hands. Because, yes, chocobos. He loves it.]

Of course that's your favorite.

[She sounds vastly amused, though. Rosalind sets Penny down in her lap, resting her chin in the palm of one hand.]

I was going to go for a tie, but I thought you'd appreciate that one more. There were socks, too. Perhaps I'll save those for Christmas.

[He's already wrapping it around his neck, never mind the fact that he's already wearing a scarf. But now he has two. I dare you to judge him.]

Oh, don't spoil it. I want chocobo Christmas socks to be a complete surprise.

[He laughs.]

If there's one good thing that's come out of this Retrospec nonsense, it's chocobos. Even you cannot argue against that.

[The U.S.S Judgement has long since sailed.]

I can argue against whatever I'd like, actually. Though I do admit, they're rather . . . cute, I suppose. In a feathery way. I still don't like riding them, though.

I raced one against my nephew once, you know.

[It ended... uh, interestingly.]

We should try it together sometime.

[He says to Rosalind, who literally just said she doesn't like riding them.]

I'd beat you.

[Maybe not, she remembers belatedly. He had as much of an upper class education as she did, and what's more, he actively loves the things. It's not hard to imagine he'd beat her easily; she's only ridden once in the past year.

But like hell she's gonna take that back, so.]

And what a shame it would be for me to shatter that confidence of yours after you most assuredly lose.

[He loves chocobos, and remembers vaguely based on his memories how to deal with them, how to ride them. And while that's no guarantee that it won't end in disaster, he seems confident enough.]

I'm not going to let you win simply because it's your birthday.

Which nephew did you race against?

That's fine, I'd win anyway.

[An innocent grin!]

Ah, Souji. It believe it was his idea initially.

[WE'LL JUST SEE ABOUT THAT, BUDDY, but it's not worth arguing right now.]

That seems about right. Is he as mad for them as he is for cats, or is it just a general love for animals?

Oh, I think it was only a general curiosity, back when they were new and unusual. [A wave of a hand, dismissively.]

That isn't to say that he's not fond of animals in general. A shared trait between himself and I.

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

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