Loshis 33, 2719 | Early Evening
Kitchens
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Fionn had mentioned theft not for the sake of shocking Aurelie but to furnish her with information. It wasn’t as if he was the only scrap to have ever stolen, he wasn’t unique and he knew it. However, she might have been concerned. They were meant to have so little that she had probably thought that the square of cloth was one of his few meagre possessions, maybe even feeling guilty about ruining it. Admitting that they were stolen did cast some negative light on himself but it wasn’t the worst thing, least of all because it was simple truth. It was truth that might make her feel better at having ruined the fabric with her own blood and the much messier and stickier viscera of the hen. And maybe it worked because when she responded, there was a lightness to her tone that hadn’t been there before as well as something verging on flippancy.
”Fair enough,” he responded softly. His tongue found its way out the corner of his mouth as a frown of concentration sat on his face as he worked at a particularly resistant feather, doing his best to free it without tearing the skin on the wing but also aware that the wing wasn’t as valuable a piece. He gave it a harder yank, sighing as it came loose but left a split in its wake, darker pink flesh showing through, almost accusing.
Even as he asked Aurelie about what she’d heard - that definitely gave her pause for thought - Fionn was well aware of the nexi that hovered close at hand, dancing across the edge of his senses and very occasionally, moving closer.He’d gained a sense of difference between the different overseers, a sense gained by familiarity. As if was, he was surprised that they hadn’t been checked on by now, ensuring that his corrupting influence hadn’t begun to take effect. It wasn’t as if they were truly alone together - it wouldn’t have been allowed if they were - but they usually got pretty paranoid about these things. Obviously things were going quite poorly and there was at least one noticeable voice above the general din, which suggested that some other incident had taken place as well.
They might have peace for another minute or two and so his question was safe to ask, whatever responses - he felt that he’d probably end up laughing - could have been and gone by the time some overseer had the opportunity to look in on them. Not that he could be certain of course so he was still alert enough.
The young woman seemed to give some thought to the question and he wondered if she was trying to think of things that sounded plausible or if she was digging up the ridiculous. However, as soon as she began, her opening words suggested that everything that followed was viewed as nonsense in her eyes. There was a levity in her approach that he quite liked. She was surprisingly different than when he'd encountered her in the canteen - not that he liked to dwell on that interaction - but it was a pleasant surprise. She was surprisingly easy to get on with when she wasn't disapproving of his artistic endeavours at the dinner table.
The luring, he'd heard that one before. Professor Moore or Professor Devlin. In fairness, they seemed to be a single entity in the minds of the passives, a combination boogeyman that would come and experiment on them if they misbehaved. In truth, he'd seen far less of Devlin than Moore and the notion that Harper Moore could do anything was a source of hilarity to him. With the way some people talked, a good quarter of the university's passive population should have disappeared at this rate. He knew where the idea had come from and why he was a suspect but that didn't make it any less ridiculous or hilarious. The not being able to sneak up on him though... there was more truth in that. Aura hadn't succeeded in sneaking up on him for instance but she had caught him by surprise; he hadn't known that she'd come in, that was all.
The scrap didn't say anything, just smiled in amusement as she spoke. She seemed to be enjoying herself and he wasn't going to break her flow. Let her carry on and he could save his comments for when she ran out of steam. He plopped another hen on her pile and took up a fresh one. A score or so to go if he had to make a guess but it could be more or less when they were bunched together like that.
The blond didn't want to interrupt but even so, it was a wonder that he didn't do it when the phrase 'illegitimate children' dropped from her lips. "Good Lady!" he croaked, blinking rapidly, paused in his work. The word 'illegitimate' made him fucking uncomfortable because it was what he might be himself but he'd never heard anything so clocking ridiculous. He'd never imagined that such a thing could be said about him, he was hardly a lady's man after all! Clocking hell, it was honestly amazing that he could have a conversation with a girl, never mind- The men bit was accurate, although obviously they weren't his only interest.
Aurelie managed to get to the end of her little revelation before looking at him, the pinkness of her cheeks and the concern on her face helped him recover sufficiently to start spluttering with incredulous laughter. It was so ludicrous, she couldn't honestly believe that-
He inadvertently inhaled one of the little wispy feathers and started coughing, still wheezing with laughter as he did so. It wasn't clear if the tears that came to his eyes were the result of mirth or choking. He managed to stop his coughing, wiping across his eyes before unthinkingly dragging fingers through his hair as he let out another laugh, small and unexpected like a hiccup. The teenager started wiping at his head, knowing full well that feathers that had stuck to his fingers were now trapped in the locks.
"Clock the Circle, that is the funniest thing I've ever- What, do women get pregnant if a man looks at them now? If that's the case then you're in serious trouble, Aura-" he broke off to cover the lower half of his face as more laughter tried to escape, although there was still the sound of snorting. Clock it, someone was going to hear him if he kept this up. The youth tried to calm himself, panting a little breathlessly.
"Amazing! I suppose most scraps don't know better, don't know how children are- Oh gods, I can't. Can you d-d-die laughing?" he choked out, covering his mouth again and almost doubled over on the stool. The chicken he'd been plucking had had a rather unfortunate tumble but it turned out to be all right when he collected it. The blond cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face but failing, unable to get rid of the grin.
"I don't think I can hear anymore. I'll end up laughing so much that someone will coming running," the middle Madden told her, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes to clear them of tears. He went back to his plucking, slower than before because his fingers were trembling, feeling weak from laughing and whatever hormones had flooded into his bloodstream. The servant was a tad light-headed as well but it was good. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that. He wasn't sure that he ever had.
"Well obviously that one about the... the- That's total chroveshit. The first one about me luring passives to Professor Moore is as well. I'm sure that Harper loses a lot of things so well that they're never seen again but not passives. He's interested in helping scraps, he's... an odd sort of galdor but no, he's fine. There's truth in the other two though. I am a scrap but others can't sneak up on me. You only surprised me earlier because well... I knew you were there but I never expected you to come in."
His mirth faltered a little, something more serious entering his expression. "It's not magic but... you wouldn't believe me if I explained it. You'd think that I was completely moony, assuming that you don't-"
He froze, eyes flicking up furtively and then back down. A nexus and a familiar one quite close. Familiar because he'd spent a lot of time trying to keep out of trouble around this one; she didn't like him at all, one who'd known him years although he'd only learned to recognise her presence lately.
"Check-in time," he murmured, suddenly very intent on pulling plumage like a diligent little servant. A moment later, a matron appeared in the doorway, hands balled into fists on her hips as she assessed the scene within.
