golisolation | 💀 MoM IC INBOX 💀

Guzma, look!

[she's returned to his part of the lair at last, having vanished, kidnapped by some of the girls in the factory. after that hour or so, she's got braids upon braids tied up in a ponytail -- messy, of course, considering the inconsistency of her haircut.

still, it's not a bad look! right? they sure thought so, and maybe the extra drinks they'd pushed in her hand to keep her sitting still throughout helps make that easier to believe.

while doing a turn:] What do you think?

[Upon her initial kidnapping, he had thought to tell them to back off, but Lucina hadn't seemed so bothered by the idea, and maybe it seemed like both Lucina and the gaggle of girl grunts could use the bonding time. So, instead, Guzma kept to himself in his own personal den of sorts, tending to Golisopod's shell with some high-end wax, after a good scrub down, of course.

By the time Lucina's returned with her own make-over, Golisopod's shell looks pristine as ever, and the lump is snoozing on the pile of rugs and pillows scattered on the floor just before the couches and tv. Guzma' relaxing on said couch, sipping a room temperature beer as the heater in the room is on blast—the factory still gets pretty chilly even with the winterizing—but he pauses mid sip when Lucina returns and shows herself off.

He smirks, glancing her over, but picking up there's something different about her, and not just her hair. Did she...sway a little with that turn?]

Tch, so that's what they were after, huh?

[Which...isn't an answer, but then he shrugs with a smirk.]

S'good. You look good with braids.

Y-you think so?!

[okay, that was a little loud. she flushes, hiding a wincing smile behind her hand as she wobbles to a stand-still and clears her throat.

sheepishly:] Ah, that is...I'm glad to hear it! That is, it's...nice to hear. Those three are really good with hair... And so gracious! It, it took a bit of coaxing for them to let me pay them for the effort...

[by way of chasing them down with her purse, bullying over someone's board game, and flying over things like some kind of drunk bat.

with nice hair.

anyway, she moves, taking a detour to give the sleeping bug a little pat, pleased to see him (and a little surprised to see a distorted reflection of herself in that shiny shell), before coming over to the couch, folding her hands behind her back.]

Are you going to make room for me to sit, or shall I do so myself?

[Guzma first nods to her question, but says nothing for the first half, just watches her, both charmed and amused. He's not surprised she paid them, and is more surprised they refused payment. Maybe they thought it was a test from Guzma, and they didn't want to incur his wrath. Or, maybe they just wanna befriend Lucina. Who knows, Guzma doesn't, and he's not about to ask, neither.

However, at Lucina's question, he quirks an eyebrow, that smirk broadening.]

There's other ways to ask if I wanna be man-handled, Lu.

[As such, he doesn't move. He wants to test the waters of this buzzed princess of his.]

[huh??

she squints, her one brain cell not really clicking.]

I wasn't asking that, I asked if you could move or if I should just make my own spot.

[Right, she's dumb as fuck sometimes and alcohol soaking that brain cell wouldn't help anything. For a long moment he just stares at her a little flatly.

With a blink, he averts his gaze from her as he scoots.]

Right.

[His humor is never appreciated. He pats the seat next to him.]

All yours.

Good! Thank you.

[she is unaffected by his scrutiny, not realizing she kind of took the wind out of his smirking sails by being an idiot, and instead is pleased to plop down and situate, scooting more his way than what he'd offered by moving in the first place.

she bobs her head a little, still amused by the novelty of feeling the weight of braided hair hitting her neck before looking his way with a smile.]

What've you been up to while I was abducted?

[His butthurt can't hold up against the weathering from Lucina's endearing...everything, and so while he might have thought to pout a little, it's demolished quickly. What with her scooting closer to him, bobbing her head, and smiling at him.

Not that he's complaining, of course.]

Cleaned Golisopod up, figured if you were off gettin' made-up by them grunts, might as well give him some overdue attention.

[His gaze falls to the slumbering mass of a bug with a warm smile.]

Think we both kinda needed it.

I could see myself in his shell! [again, a bit loud; she clams up for a second, shoulders shrugging up.] I think you did a good job. I guess he and I both got pampered tonight!

[Guzma chuckles at the volume. Yeah, she's drunk, and he definitely likes it. She's cute.]

That's how it should be, I guess I've kinda lagged the past few months. Really got no excuse for that.

[Because apparently the apocalypse, going to another dimension and suffering that bullshit, and everything else, isn't an excuse for not keeping up with buffing his shell. At least not in Guzma's mind.

With his free hand, he reaches over to touch her hair, giving the braids a gentle squeeze between his fingers.]

If anyone deserves some pamperin', it's def you two.

Him, yes. I don't know about me-- [she fidgets a little, biting her lip against a little laugh; him messing with one of the braids has stray hairs tickling her neck.] But I don't mind too much. It's like that hot springs a little! Where they polish up your nails or other things... [she cants her head to the side, looking up as she thinks.] I didn't really survey all the things, come to think. Still nice, though.

...Okay, so then what makes someone deservin' of pamperin', huh?

[He takes a drink of his beer, holding up a finger from the hand holding it to gesture for her to give him a second, and then swallows before continuing.]

You bust your ass, you're always helpin' other people and doin' way more than what I think ya should, you don't really take time for yourself almost ever—and even when you do, it's more for me than you.

How much do ya gotta sacrifice before you're allowed to take somethin' for yourself, hm?

[the finger helps; she was a breath away from interjecting, and instead just closes her mouth and pouts a little, drawing her legs up and crossing them for lack of other things to do. if anything, being comfortably tipsy just makes her more antsy and wanting to move about while also wanting to nap. it's a weird state to be in.

no naps now, though, not with deep questions being laid at her feet.

frowning:] But...I do get things. Lots of things! I just got my hair braided, even! And you let me visit a lot, and I meet friends at the cafe a lot, and I have a big, beautiful place to train all I want... I do have lots of things!

[Her drawing her legs up like that and pouting makes him feel kinda bad, but he's not about to back down so easily...]

...Okay, listen up Lu.

[He doesn't even realize he sounds like he's lecturing her. He's not meaning to, either!]

I don't let you visit me like it's some privilege I'm gonna take away from you. That's a right you got by being with me. Also, hangin' with homies is just a normal thing you're supposed to do, the fact you act like that's somethin' special just furthers my point.

And trainin' is well and good, but that also aids in your work—and don't get me wrong, I get that. It's like me and my team, but none of that is pampering, and people like you deserve that kinda crap.

[oh how the turntables, lookit him tryina teach life lessons!

she tries not looking too dubious, but there's a shine of it in the way she frowns when she tilts her head at him.]

You always say things like that...about deserving. Who deserves what. It's what you said at the beginning, remember? When you asked me...about deserving someone like me. [remembering that makes her heart thump a little harder. it's a good, but strange memory.] That's not a thing I could possibly know, you know...!

[He is naturally nurturing, just...it got spoiled like the rest of him, but sometimes something good sprouts through the refuse of his personality and views.

However, he's surprised by her bringing that up, but maybe he shouldn't be. She's drunk, after all, and he does use that term a lot, doesn't he? Measuring people and things in worth...in what they deserve.

He stares at her for a silent moment, swallowing a little thickly.]

...Well, shouldn't you?

[she stares back at him for almost the same amount of time, her face an obvious show to the gears struggling in her head as she bristles at the question.]

Sshh...should I? [oh no. she's becoming aware she's dumb.] But. What I deserve isn't...It can't be up to me. You'd say I'd get it wrong! Or...Iris would've... [her expression gets cloudy.]

I know I should be...allowed nice things. Good people. But that's. Because everyone should have that. If all things were good.

Even if I worked extra hard every day, though...it doesn't. Fix the things I messed up, though... So it almost balances out. Not doing extra good for myself. Right?

[it makes more sense in her head as opposed to the broken puzzle pieces of thoughts she's trying to smash together into a coherent sentence, and the concern shows -- and the self-awareness, in how her face gets red with embarrassment.]

Aa...I. I drank too many things, so I sound...foolish...

[It's a good thing that Guzma's a career drunk, and so he actually gets what she's getting at pretty easily.

But something doesn't sit right with him...the fact she's trying to atone for something, fix something...but what can she truly have to fix? Honestly, he just thinks she's too critical on herself, and it could very well be simple mistakes that lack all malicious intent that she's being too hard on herself for.

...Or, it could be her own perceived failures, like in that other world, the shit with Darin, her dying...]

Lu, you're good, I get ya.

[He tilts his head to the side as he watches her, though.]

But what the fuck do ya gotta work so hard to atone for? The way I see it, shit happens. That's life, but if you ain't willin' to take time to enjoy yourself, then what's the point?

By that logic, then I should never relax or enjoy anything. My scale ain't balanced at all, so I shouldn't be havin' nothing good, huh?

That isn't what I meant! [she looks alarmed when he turns her logic on him -- wow, it's almost like she holds herself to impossible standards while being far more lax on others or something!

...also, that was a little loud. she pipes down again, looking away, guilty.]

I mean... [a pained sound.] It...it's in my power to do more. It was always my charge to -- my fate? [her eyes wince, shoulders drawing up again.] Not that...fate is such a desirable concept anymore. [she huffs.

a beat.]

I do want to embrace as much good as I can. I know it can all go away...so fast. [war. death. randomly being transported to world full of war and death. world-eating dragons. world-eating goddesses.] I, I mean. I could get turned into that awful facsimile of myself again. Or...the scarabs could come back. Or the Shimmer. [she pales as she goes down this spiral, tensing up.]

Worse things could come than what we've seen. Something else could happen and...snatch any goodness away again. More people could leave, even never come back. Or they come back, but don't remember...

[she bites on her lip, fighting back a shudder of dread.

then the thought suddenly hits, and it's out of her mouth before she can even think to censor herself:] What'll you do...if that woman comes here, too? The one you care about still...

[not even a beat passes before she realizes she said that and goes red again, freezing up, not daring to look up to see what she's done; she assumes she'll get an earful for it anyway.]

[He's silent as she explains, but he can't help but be amused at her logic being turned around and getting such a reaction. He figured that'd happen, everyone's such a fucking hypocrite, himself included. As she goes on, he watches her closely, every little gesture and change in expression, how she winces, how the emotion flashes behind her eyes...

He's drawn into it, into her, and while he's listening to her, he doesn't realize where this is going. That this might lead to a hypothetical situation he's been silently dreading for months. Not because he reviles Lusamine, he doesn't, but that in itself is the problem.

So, as she says her question, too quick to stop, too quick to prepare for, his horror is plain on his face. His eyes are wide and he grows pale as his brain flatlines. He can feel his palms getting sweaty from his nerves as he tries to come up with an answer, because ultimately...]

I don't—

[He starts and immediately hits himself in the head with his open palm, his gaze tearing away from her as he tries to think, tries to put himself in that situation. But it's so hard, because he doesn't want to promise her something that he doesn't know if he can keep.

Guzma knows what he should say, knows he should tell her that he wants to stay with her—because he does know that! Does want it! But it's easy to say that, easy to claim he'll stay put, when Lusamine isn't here...but if she were...]

Lu—I love you, a'ight? I don't wanna go back—I wanna stay here—with you.

[That's...not answering the question. He knows he's trying to avoid answering it...]

[the sound of him hitting herself is what makes her jolt and look up, eyes big and expression fraught. she almost talks over him, starting to apologize, but cuts herself off in being cut off, his assurance like a palm to her head, to admonish her loose tongue and unchecked anxieties.

it only works a little, and only for a moment, because while it heartens her to hear him assert what he wants (he doesn't lie about these things to her, he means what he says! she knows that...), it also makes her feel terribly guilty, as if she'd forced him into a tight spot.]

Y-you said that before! [on the roof. in Jeopardy. the sky was a wreck and the world almost perished, but he said it then. she remembers.] You...I shouldn't have to hear it again. I'm sorry. I believe you. Really!

[she starts to sag out of the wound-up posture she'd gotten herself into just then as another wave of embarrassment washes over her, and her eyes peel away again, still stuck with the sight of his stressed-out look. gods, of course he's stressed, listen to her!]

Forgive me. I...don't want to get stuck...imagining all the things that could happen. [but she does. often.] I know how fast...things can change. N-not everything, but. A lot of things.

[like where people stand when someone very important suddenly shows up.]

[He almost relaxes when she accepts that, when she seems fit to accept his deflecting answer, and back away from the topic—but then she apologizes, and that makes something twist inside. His gaze falls away from her, and while she's asking for forgiveness, he feels like he's the one who should be asking for it.

The question keeps repeating inside his head, like an echo that instead of quieting with each repeat, instead gets louder. Nervously, he swallows, and his grip on his beer bottle is frighteningly tight, his hand shaking from it.]

...Lu, don't apologize.

[He starts, his voice strangely...still, quiet.]

You got every right to be askin' me this. You got a right to know. I, I been thinkin' about it a lot, especially recently...

[Lillie...then Gladion...]

I dunno if she will be showin' up—I figured it wasn't somethin' too probable, but now...

[His gaze hardens, and he looks to Lucina, conflict behind his dark eyes. He hesitates, his jaw visibly tense, hell, all of him is tense. He's been trying to keep this quiet, but he knows, he fucking knows if he doesn't tell her, she'll find out eventually...and that'll come back to bite him in the ass.

Lucina's been nothing but good to him, loving, kind, caring...he owes her this.]

Her kids are here.

[there's a painfully long beat that follows that, her eyes distant and fixed downward, and she almost looks lost to the conversation, but she suddenly lifts her head up and gawks at him, eyes wide.]

Kids-?! Wh-?? K--Huh-?! She...has...?

[she's had a lot of time to envision this madame prez. lacking any real details beyond important to Guzma, she's had to use her imagination to flesh out a vision of a woman who suits his affections.

mother is not part of that vision.]

[Guzma blinks at her for a second, then quirks an eyebrow.]

Yeah?

[He's not seeing the problem here. People have kids sometimes! People especially have kids when they are (still) married and twice his age...

Still not seeing the issue here.]

Why're ya more surprised at that, than the fact they're here? You even talked to one of 'em.

[THIS IS BRAND NEW IMPORTANT INFORMATION, OKAY!! and, being in her cups, she has to work EXTRA HARD to process this properly without vomiting out more useless thoughts! double-extra hard. she's trying her very best here under such dire circumstances of her own making.

while an eyelid twitches:] I...I have? Who? Where? I haven't...I wouldn't know that I've--Guzma, how old is that woman?? [wince.] I mean-!

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