closed💠let's talk, let's talk

[exarched]

Who: G'raha, Alphinaud, & Alisaie
Where: Their motel room
When: Late June
What: The Talk but it's only awkward for G'raha

Warnings: None, but will update if necessary

[ The walk up the flimsy fight of stairs to the second floor has become routine now. It's a far cry from the finely cut marble of Sharlayan's square or the winding stairs of the Crystarium, but something in his subconscious is already connecting the route with "home". Or, home base, rather, as he knows they are very far from what they ought to be calling home.

Still, everyone needs a small refuge and it is small by many standards. The strange plastic floor is cracked in several places, the blinds don't close down all the way, and sometimes there is a weird smell that comes out of the vents. But it has two beds, a kitchenette, and a bathroom, which is more than enough for three adventurers. G'raha does wish he could be doing a better job of providing for them, being their elder in a literal sense, even if he knows neither of the Leveilleurs would expect it of him.

What they do probably expect, or at least want, is transparency. Something he has...not been great at thus far, even if it was for their benefit (at least in his mind). But after running into Emet-Selch so easily outside of the city, he's come to realize that an eventual meeting is inevitable, no matter how much he would like to protect them from it. Whether or not they need it is something else entirely.

That is why he stands in front of the door to their room, holding a few bags that are stained with grease on the bottom but smell heavily of something deliciously fried. A peace offering? In part. He has yet to attempt to really cook for them and that is, mayhaps, for the best. Especially for the subject he is about to broach.

Taking in a deep breath, G'raha finagles the key in the old lock and pushes the door open. ]

I'm back! With dinner as promised.

[ An unnecessary announcement given that the front door is visible from basically everywhere. ]

Comments

[exarched]

[ Oh yes, certainly it was Alphinaud. Their light, familiar banter is enough to ease his nerves a bit. G'raha allows the door to fall shut behind him, making sure to press the bottom with the back of his foot to make sure that it is well and truly closed. ]

You have my sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting, then, Master Alphinaud.

[ There's a small glint in his eyes that is shared with Alisaie before he allows Alphinaud to take one of the bags. A short pause only to slide the chain lock into its slot. ]

I hope that the spoils will make up for my leisurely pace. Apparently chicken here comes in "buckets"?

[ The bag that Alphinaud took does contain one said bucket of a variety of friend pieces--wings, thighs, strips--anything that will fit. G'raha sets his own bag down on the small, wobbly table that came with the room. There may only be two chairs, but if its pulled towards one of the beds, it works just fine. He figures Alisaie will make quick work of unloading that bag full of sides and condiments so that G'raha can grab a few plates and utensils.

Did he spend more money than he should have on this? Yes, probably. Is it trying to buy a bit of good will for the topic he is going to broach? Yes, yes it is. Will it work? Uncertain. ]

[argumentiste]

[ The little glint in G'raha's eyes that she now knows to be more than just a trick of the light brings her no shortage of delight. There were few things that were better than an inside joke shared between herself and a friend at the expense of her dear brother. And as if to prove that she lets out a little snort of gleeful laughter as her legs are unceremoniously shoved off of Alphinaud. ]

Bucket or not, if the smell of it is anything to go off, I'm sure it will taste like the finest feast.

[ And honestly they're both hungry enough that truly most anything paletteable would suffice.

G'raha assumes correctly. She's already bounded over to where they've begun to unpack. Little tubs labelled with 'gravy', 'coleslaw' and 'french fries' are pulled out accordingly and their lids promptly pulled off and set aside. ]

I was joking but this really does look like a feast by Diadem standards. [ Her eyes are wide, her tone a little bit scolding. ] Are you certain you had enough joolies for this? We would have been more than willing to assist.

[diplomatiste]

[ Eh-hem.

Yes, we are absolutelydeliberatelyforsure ignoring that little jab at his expense because they both know the truth. Alisaie had been complaining just as much and just as loudly about their shrinking stomachs and the time that had stretched between meals. If not more.

But he will be a good brother and keep it to himself before he starts laying out the cutlery over their rickety little table. ]

I'd say it even begins to resemble such feasts back in Eorzea. Perhaps with a little less grease and disposables but the food is plenty. We should have quite enough for left-overs.

[ He knows what left-overs are now (!!), a concept he would be quite proud to explain to Tataru where opportunities for money-saving is concerned. Of course it requires a cold-box of some sort, as well as a means of re-heating such items, and it isn't actually feasible back home, but oh, what a concept.

Speaking of money, however ... ]

Alisaie is correct, this seems rather a large expense. Let us provide our share; it's only right.

[exarched]

[ "Finest feast" may be subjective, but he is finding out that foodstuffs like fried chicken are a go-to around places like this. The quality of it may vary from time to time, but he cannot deny the appeal of something warm, crispy, and delectably salty really does hit the spot. It's far from nutritious, but, tonight is not a night for a balanced diet.

They will need this chicken. Thank you, Colonel.

Alphinaud is right regard left-overs, something G'raha doesn't mind at all. (Then again, this man happily ate the Archon Loaf, so you probably can't trust his input.) But he quickly waves off their concern. ]

It has all been properly expensed, I assure you.

[ Besides, he knows they will contribute to their household in plenty of other ways. He sets two ceramic and one plastic plate down on the table--the room came with the two, the latter was saved after another night of take-out. Conserving resources is important.

But there is a pause. Would it be better to let them start to eat and enjoy the food first? Or is it more prudent to lay all the cards out on the proverbial table? He...his heart says the former, but experience says the latter. He glances between them, then nods to Alphinaud. ]

Please, take a seat.

[ Though he smiles, it is clear the food is not all on his mind. Finally, he sighs, placing his hands on the back of one chair. ]

I admit that in some ways I had hoped this might...ease some of the news I have to share with you both.

[argumentiste]

[ Apparently when you're a teenager (even a teenager that grew up in what is essentially the 1% of an academic society), some things never change. Namely, being susceptible to the sweet sweet siren's song of fried food marketed by a kindly looking man named the Colonel.

They can wax poetic about leftovers and how wonderful they are assuming you have the proper instruments in place to make them palatable again but there is something more pressing (though they'll probably quickly learn that fried chicken isn't quite the same as a leftover as it is fresh) at hand. More important even than G'raha's insistence that they don't need to repay him in kind though that doesn't escape a pointed look from Alisaie explaining exactly how she feels about that. It's his pause that's concerning.

They've been on their fair share of being on the receiving end of bad or less than ideal news. Being told to sit as a pretense to something being delivered has never been good. Despite that she does as asked instinctively glancing over towards Alphinaud. There's no point in trying to hide her rising suspicions even as she begins to dole out a drumstick and a thigh onto G'raha's plate. ]

Would this have anything to do with our arrival? [ Because there's absolutely no way either of them have forgotten. ] Or is there something else the matter?

[diplomatiste]

News? What news?

[ If it were good, there'd be a different look in the Exarch's eyes ... something with more excitement. Instead, the tone and his posture — and this spread of food without want for any help in paying for it — hints at something ... ominous.

But before Alphinaud can let his paranoias get away with him, he dutifully obeys the man's request and settles into one of the seats at the table. It's an old chair, a bit rickety and wobbly, but it does the job.

He doesn't bother to try and reach for any of the food, only tilts his head to exchange a glance with Alisaie as they consider the same thing as one. No, some things never do change. ]

Suppose you just say what it is you need to say. It should be easier than drawing out its painful end if I suspect this is less than joyful news.

[exarched]

[ Being right out with it is...definitely the best way to go about things, but far from the easiest. They also certainly deserve it. But he knows this issue will weigh more heavily on them considering what they have most recently been through on the First, only having just claimed victory over Emet-Selch once and for all.

To take that away from them so soon feels cruel. And yet, to leave them unaware indefinitely is no better. He wishes he could protect them, allow them their earned rest and reward.

After a thoughtful moment, G'raha sighs and steadies himself. When he lifts his gaze back to them, it is the more practiced persona of the Exarch he borrows. ]

We are not alone here. [ He looks slowly from Alphinaud to Alisaie. ] Emet-Selch is here...though not as you remember him.