[ You know what, Alice? He wants to leave. He hates having to suffer through this red, white, and blue meet and greet with a bunch of assholes he wants nothing to do with. He'd rather be back in Brakebills, poring over books and practicing magic with Alice. But that Alice-- the one who agreed with him that bottling their emotions was a bad idea-- died. Burned up, became a niffin, and died, and now here she is, like some creepy dead-behind-the-eyes pod version of herself.
He hates it. And he's not going to let her isolate herself, and he can't believe he's even on the 'isolation is bad' train, considering his entire life up to when he got sucked into this fucked up social circle of not-quite-friends, not-quite-family, something indefinable but meaningful.
And no, he will never say that to any of them. He just fixes Alice with a hard stare, barely even hesitating before he says: ] No. We're staying. Try the-- I don't know-- [ He looms over the spread of potluck dishes, narrowing his eyes at one of the offerings. ] Taco... salad?
[ He sounds a little incredulous as he says it. It's labeled a 'taco salad' and it's neither of those things, and it has mayonnaise in it. ]
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He hates it. And he's not going to let her isolate herself, and he can't believe he's even on the 'isolation is bad' train, considering his entire life up to when he got sucked into this fucked up social circle of not-quite-friends, not-quite-family, something indefinable but meaningful.
And no, he will never say that to any of them. He just fixes Alice with a hard stare, barely even hesitating before he says: ] No. We're staying. Try the-- I don't know-- [ He looms over the spread of potluck dishes, narrowing his eyes at one of the offerings. ] Taco... salad?
[ He sounds a little incredulous as he says it. It's labeled a 'taco salad' and it's neither of those things, and it has mayonnaise in it. ]