There's Something About His Seemingly Random Selection Process That Prodded At Her Brain As She Watched

There's something about his seemingly random selection process that prodded at her brain as she watched him spend their points.

On one hand, it feels like an interesting peek into what sort of person Jeremiah is, with a few choices he made surprising her. On the other, she so desperately wanted to point out a few prizes that she knew were more worth the points.

But as sore of a loser as she could be, she wasn't about to go that low. Even if the look her was giving her made her want to flick his forehead.

"... You..."

She looks between him and the pile of assorted trinkets. Some were along the lines of what she'd like, but for the most part she can absolutely tell that he was just taking the piss out of her.

Predictably, she takes on of the bookmarks he picked out first. Then after rummaging through the pile, she manages to pick a few things that she thought were cute little mementos to remember the day by--a small Fluffy Thistle charm, a silly Kitty Card Kitty pen, and a couple of scrunchies.

"I sure hope you're pleased with your haul," she said, side-eyeing him as she tied her hair back with one of the scrunchies she'd taken. "None of these are what I would've spent the points on, but I'm glad I got to take home something from... your winnings."

(RE?)connecting; @jeremiahofphilo

Wednesday night. Cool, moderately windy, with the moon mostly blocked by the clouds.

Half an hour earlier than the agreed upon time, Dolasach arrived at the arcade—a flashy building with three floors of entertainment that ranged from the classic crane game, to a newly installed interactive holographic setup ‘that brought VR into IRL.’ Rolling up the sleeves of the beige and navy cardigan that her pouty lover insisted she wear lent her, she made her way deeper inside with a goal in mind.

Recalling that Jeremiah mentioned that he couldn’t figure out some of the machines, she made it a point to take some time to scour the place for anything that either looked like something Jeremiah would know about, or seemed like the right level of complexity for it to still be fun to figure out. Or maybe they could have fun with something they could both figure out together?

It crossed her mind that this was probably way more busywork than Jeremiah could’ve ever expected from her, but after how… Awkward? Some of their last meeting went, she just wanted to try and make sure things go relatively well. Or at least, they wouldn’t have that much dead air if it did get awkward again.

She pulled out her phone and quickly sent Jeremiah a text once she was satisfied with her findings, the time hitting close to their rendezvous.

->Mr. Philo-dendron: Let me know when you’re here, will meet you at the entrance. Take your time btw! No rush :>

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"Right."

She takes a moment to try and estimate just how much she'd need to move herself to get on his back. If she weren't in pain, she might've taken a moment to think about the proximity and physical closeness.

"Let me..."

But any thoughts about where they both were emotionally outside of this specific situation were pushed to the very, very back of her mind. What mattered was getting out of here, soon.

After a deep breath, she lifts herself off of the ground and supports her own weight long enough to climb onto his back. The wind gets knocked out of her lungs as a sharp pain shoots up her injured leg, but she manages to secure herself as well as she could on Xavier's back.

"I think I'm good," she says, a little breathless and close to his ear. "Sorry about this... I should've paid more attention to where that Wanderer was..."

"The wanderers are taken care of. Are you hurt anywhere? Don't lie."

“I’m—“

The automatic response gets cut off by Dolasach’s own realization that no, she isn’t fine, and the fact that she couldn’t join in him battle made it extremely clear to her that there’s no lying her way through this.

As the dust settles around them and the final vestiges of the fallen Wanderer’s dissipate into nothing, the pain in her leg from an attack she failed to dodge makes itself even more known. At first glance, it wouldn’t seem like anything was wrong thanks to her pants obscuring everything, but judging from the pain, she had to wonder if something had been fractured.

She sighs and leans back against the tree she’d been resting on for support. It’s getting dark, and they’re in a no-hunt zone. It’s best if she didn’t waste their time trying to put on a brave face.

“I… Don’t think I can walk on my own.”

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Bathrooms, 1996