“Well, it seems almost insultingly obvious that you are sublimating your aspirations for a more, shall we say, sophisticated love life through this dream girl of yours.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Rose! I am very happy with my love life!”
“Aren’t you still dating that cave catgirl of yours?”
You raise the other eyebrow. Success: he looks mildly flustered under the Disbelieving Brow Combo.
“I—yes, but! We’re very happy! We go to the movies together, and we go on adventures – she loves hunting! We do plenty of stuff!”
“Uhuh. Tell me, John, have you stopped begging for the life of her prey when she’s done prowling?”
“Dude.” Dave looks up from the guitar he’s been disinterestedly fiddling with before Dirk arrives. “You’re dating Nepeta Leijon? That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve heard all week, and I come to your rehearsals. She’s totally pining for Vantas’ rounded ass.”
John glares.
“Why are you even here, anyway? Are you spying on us?”
“You wish,” Dave says, with even less emotion in his voice than usual.
That’s a sign you’ve learned to pay attention to. You can feel the rap coming from a mile away, and you interrupt before your sort-of sibling has the time to launch into an assault on the strictly no-rap-allowed grounds that is your rehearsal space.
“Your interest for Karkat’s glutes has been duly noted, Dave, but I must agree with John, here. With the upcoming Battle of the Bands, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do without your impeccably ironic appreciation for our non-existent musical skills today. As for you, John,” you add, “I regretfully must admit that Dave – shocking as it may be – has a point.
“It’s been a year. Don’t you see this rebound period with a six-sweep-old cavegirl is turning into an excuse to avoid connecting emotionally again with people more to your speed? People you’d have more in common, people who would challenge you?”
Unnoticed by John, Dave has strategically slid over to put himself between John and the door. Good; John looks like he’s considering bolting at any moment. Dave may be a little flaky when it comes to confronting his own demons, but he’s never been one to give John an out when you’re helping him through his issues.
You smile encouragingly. “You can talk to me, John. I’m always here to listen to your problems, whatever they may be.”
John closes his eyes, and you’re edging on your seat – finally! A breakthrough!
All your efforts are ruined when Dirk chooses this exact moment to enter.
He takes one circular look at the scene – you’re pretty sure he does, shades or no shades you know him as well as you know yourself, which is only slightly less exhaustive than you do everyone else – and nods minutely.
“Are we having another intervention about how long it’s been since John broke up with—-”
“Don’t. Say. That. Name.” John interrupts. He is mimicking the tone and rhythm of Nicholas Cage asking the bunny to be returned to the box. That you’ve been subjected to the scene enough to realize so deeply pains you, and reminds you at the same time that John is a dear, dear friend of yours, for whom you would brave death, doom, and the most terrible fucking awful actor Hollywood has ever borne.
Dirk crosses his arms, leans against the doorframe, and raises an eyebrow. You are filled with sudden affection for him, the one of your siblings that doesn’t make you feel desperately awash in the sea of funtimes and heroic rap-offs Dave and Roxy seem to share.
“It’s been a year,” he repeats. “You should move on. Date someone. Real dates – not following your fake cavegirlfriend while she kills savage beasts and you both want to be with someone else. Someone real – not Liv Tyler or the latest dreamgirl you imagined in your sleep.”
Surrounded with the impassive, similarly-bespectacled faces of your brothers, and your own contented smirk, John looks spooked.
>John: Rue the day you decided to associate with the Strider-Lalondes
>Rose: Psychoanalyze John's new obsession (FILL: TEAM PARCELPYXIS)
You raise an eyebrow.
“Rose! I am very happy with my love life!”
“Aren’t you still dating that cave catgirl of yours?”
You raise the other eyebrow. Success: he looks mildly flustered under the Disbelieving Brow Combo.
“I—yes, but! We’re very happy! We go to the movies together, and we go on adventures – she loves hunting! We do plenty of stuff!”
“Uhuh. Tell me, John, have you stopped begging for the life of her prey when she’s done prowling?”
He hesitates.
“I don’t—- beg-— I—- ask her? Nepeta’s a really nice girl!”
“Dude.” Dave looks up from the guitar he’s been disinterestedly fiddling with before Dirk arrives. “You’re dating Nepeta Leijon? That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve heard all week, and I come to your rehearsals. She’s totally pining for Vantas’ rounded ass.”
John glares.
“Why are you even here, anyway? Are you spying on us?”
“You wish,” Dave says, with even less emotion in his voice than usual.
That’s a sign you’ve learned to pay attention to. You can feel the rap coming from a mile away, and you interrupt before your sort-of sibling has the time to launch into an assault on the strictly no-rap-allowed grounds that is your rehearsal space.
“Your interest for Karkat’s glutes has been duly noted, Dave, but I must agree with John, here. With the upcoming Battle of the Bands, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do without your impeccably ironic appreciation for our non-existent musical skills today. As for you, John,” you add, “I regretfully must admit that Dave – shocking as it may be – has a point.
“It’s been a year. Don’t you see this rebound period with a six-sweep-old cavegirl is turning into an excuse to avoid connecting emotionally again with people more to your speed? People you’d have more in common, people who would challenge you?”
Unnoticed by John, Dave has strategically slid over to put himself between John and the door. Good; John looks like he’s considering bolting at any moment. Dave may be a little flaky when it comes to confronting his own demons, but he’s never been one to give John an out when you’re helping him through his issues.
You smile encouragingly. “You can talk to me, John. I’m always here to listen to your problems, whatever they may be.”
John closes his eyes, and you’re edging on your seat – finally! A breakthrough!
All your efforts are ruined when Dirk chooses this exact moment to enter.
He takes one circular look at the scene – you’re pretty sure he does, shades or no shades you know him as well as you know yourself, which is only slightly less exhaustive than you do everyone else – and nods minutely.
“Are we having another intervention about how long it’s been since John broke up with—-”
“Don’t. Say. That. Name.” John interrupts. He is mimicking the tone and rhythm of Nicholas Cage asking the bunny to be returned to the box. That you’ve been subjected to the scene enough to realize so deeply pains you, and reminds you at the same time that John is a dear, dear friend of yours, for whom you would brave death, doom, and the most terrible fucking awful actor Hollywood has ever borne.
Dirk crosses his arms, leans against the doorframe, and raises an eyebrow. You are filled with sudden affection for him, the one of your siblings that doesn’t make you feel desperately awash in the sea of funtimes and heroic rap-offs Dave and Roxy seem to share.
“It’s been a year,” he repeats. “You should move on. Date someone. Real dates – not following your fake cavegirlfriend while she kills savage beasts and you both want to be with someone else. Someone real – not Liv Tyler or the latest dreamgirl you imagined in your sleep.”
Surrounded with the impassive, similarly-bespectacled faces of your brothers, and your own contented smirk, John looks spooked.
>John: Rue the day you decided to associate with the Strider-Lalondes