psychoshenanigans | Accord // Canon

Entry tags:

robin,
tekhetsio

Accord // Canon

Despite appearances, Robin is in a horrible mood.

Normally when he has bad days like this, he goes out and does something stupid to shake out the bad parts and knock a few resolutions back into place. He used to go out and get wasted for attention; Vincent would never just ignore him when he was fucked up on something, and that was nice. It was never the plan, but that's how it always wound up happening.

Tonight he picked out this little dive-bar right off the Industrial District tram station, where the drinks are cheap and the bartenders won't tell you to leave until you're throwing up in their bathroom. It's no-smoking, but the smell wisps in from outside. It's got neon signs and greasy food. It's the perfect place to get irresponsibly smashed.

Somewhere between drink three and drink four, though, it occurs to Robin that Vincent is not actually here, and that no one knows where he is, and that no one would go out trying to find him because he hasn't come home yet, and that makes him feel crushingly horrible.

So, in a drunken stupor, he borrows a pen from some guy next to him and opens up his grimoire, scrawling out an only-passively-legible message to the first person he can think to want to see. Tek gets told that he should come find Robin. There are directions. He says it's really important.

But by the time Tek makes it to the bar, Robin will have completely forgotten about all that in favor of playing a game involving cups and a little round ball. He's with a group of vicious-looking sailors, several of which are trying not to split their sides laughing at the table-tennis antics ensuing in front of them.

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Tek catches the drink before it tips over or something, turning the glass back and forth on the bartop while he muses.

"Having your blood removed usually makes you feel better..." said flat and skeptical. He can really only guess if Robin is even talking about something real or not, and that fact makes him wonder.

With Robin crumpled in an increasingly distraught pile on the bar, Tek finds the space between gloves and sleeve and lays his fingers against the skin of Robin's wrist. It might seem like a kind gesture, but he's really doing nothing but investigating--he's beginning to wonder if Robin has something else poisoning his system.

There's little to be found. Just a lot of booze and, yes, a bit less blood than there should be.

"No, 'cause... She does something weird, it's like having sex without actually..."

And then he stops because of the fingers on his wrist. He stares at Tek's hand, because he doesn't remember when it got there. Or what it's doing there. Or why Tek is even here. How long has he been there?

Why did he just tell him that? He must be--

"You're judging me, aren't you?"

"--Judging you?"

Him? Honestly, what a thought. Where would Robin get an idea like that?

Though, the way that he'd previously just narrowed his eyes in a mix of skepticism and disgust probably didn't help. That description, combined with how intoxicated and anemic Robin feels, gets quite a look.

"Don't judge me!" He sounds a little... distraught. "You're so meeeeaaaannnn..." His voice waivers off as he sinks back towards the table, sniffling again. His eyes might be getting watery, and he's talking into his arm.

"This is the worst day and I want to go home with you and I just--"

Okay. Yeah. Those are tears in his eyes.

"Hey..."

At the sight of tears, Tek is immediately glancing up toward the people around them. Things are suddenly more exciting than he'd bargained for, and he needs to adapt along with it. He doesn't necessarily want to shake Robin out of this, but he really doesn't want anyone else to do so either.

In a place like this, the bartender might not care if patrons get rowdy and apocalyptically wasted... but as soon as someone starts crying, the fun could quickly be over. They don't need someone making a scene right there at the bar and bringing everyone else down. It might turn out fine, but Tek doesn't want to take the chance.

"...Come on."

Taking Robin's elbow and scooping up the drinks, he attempts to herd him out of his seat and toward a more vacant place to sit. And if there aren't any, he'll quietly bare a few fangs to encourage someone to move to a different table.

It won't take him long to find a place. The people here might be drunk, but they're not used to otherworldly beings and things with fangs. A couple of barely-legal university kids abandon their table without a fight.

Robin is actually very easy to convince to move. He has trouble putting one foot in front of the other and stumbles a little on his way, but he makes it. He slumps heavily into the seat, rubbing at his eyes even as he sinks and slouches and looks to be in danger of slowly sliding under the table.

Much better.

Once they're as isolated as they can be, Tek returns to the attentive place he'd left off at--complete with pushing Robin's drink toward him again. It's mostly an attempt to get him to focus and lean in the direction of the table instead of sliding toward the floor.

"Here. Take this, will you?"

Drink more. It'll help.

His attention follows it perfectly. He hoists himself back up so that he can slump on the table, propping his face up just enough to reach his straw.

More booze. That'll fix it. Booze fixes anything. That's what Vincent always says.

"...No one's paying attention to me." He frowns sadly, eyes all watery still, looking over at the group of people he was interacting with before. "I hate these people, they're all weird. I hate them."

Tek takes a sip from his own drink, but the primary purpose behind it is to help hide any betraying thing that might sneak into his expression. Leave it to Robin to suddenly hone in on something like that when Tek is least expecting it. So, he tries not to leave it to chance by buying a moment to totally compose himself.

He's suddenly and very quietly delighted. He can't help loving what is seeping out of Robin now.

"Why do you care whether they are or not, if you hate them?"

He's not trying to be encouraging. He just wants to know.

"Becaussse... I want attention," he repeats, like it wasn't clear enough the first time. "People like... being noticed, right? That's normal...? I think..."

It looks as though that thought process is a little too much for Robin to wrap his brain around, but he continues as best as he can manage.

"It doesn't matter if I hate them because, because, because then you have a unique connection so you can make them stop being so stupid."

"...You want attention, and you want to make them... stop being so stupid?"

Oh, there's that judging look again. He'd been trying not to slip into it, but it's just so natural for him... especially when he's following only exactly half of the ideas that Robin is slurring over.

"...No." He sounds disappointed and sad to have to admit it. "I think I'd rather just kill them. But it's better when they pay attention because then they hurt more."

Despite the suddenly morbid turn, he looks more tired than vengeful. He wipes the tears away from his face.

"...I'm a horrible person."

The way Tek tilts his head and raises his eyebrows could almost be mistaken for pitying, or even sympathizing, if it wasn't so obviously in his nature to be more fascinated by the turns in Robin's mental track.

"...Compared to what?"

He'll know whether to agree or refute his claim after his basis for comparison is established.

"I dunno. ...Normal people."

He swirls his straw around in his drink, though the motion quickly turns more into uneven teetering with how heavy his hand is.

"People who aren't crazy..."

That gets him tearing up again. If he hasn't stopped by now, it'd be a safe guess that the waterworks will be going on and off all night.

It's this uneven on and off display of emotions that has him so entertained. It makes him wonder how easy they would be to tug on with words compared to more supernatural means, whether he acknowledges the thought or not.

"Crazy?"

He acts surprised that Robin would imply something like that about himself.

"Don't say thaaaat..."

And there his head goes, sliding right onto the table. What a sorry sight he is, crying and slumped over next to his drink.

"I'm crazy. You know I am. Okay? You think I'm crazy."

He wonders how much of this Robin is going to remember in the morning, and makes sure to mentally record every detail.

Leaning closer, leaning in, he props his chin in his hand again and keeps his voice light, almost gentle.

"So what if I do?"

The usual reaction to that is a sympathetic, 'No, you're not crazy,'. The fact that Tek agrees with him really throws him off. He was ready to argue more, but Tek asked him a different question that he thinks he's already forgotten.

So Tek gets a confused, semi-vacant stare for a moment before some impulse triggers another sentence to come out of his mouth.

"Are you being nice?"

Even if he had been being something related to nice, which is maybe within the realm of possibility, that question undoes it all in an instant.

He frowns at him in a way that is somehow very much a combination of pity, and offense at what he's halfway being accused of.

"I'm trying to figure out why you're crying."

"'Cause I'm sad, dipshit."

He tries to shove Tek over, but he completely misses. He doesn't even touch him. His arm just angles out past him and then flops uselessly back onto the seat next to him.

He just... watches Robin's arm go by, as if he knew well before the fact that it wouldn't actually hit its mark. He almost boredly follows the path with his eyes, before sliding his gaze to Robin's face again.

"...Yes, but why? What could possibly be so upsetting?"

Because he really, honestly doesn't see what his problem is.

"I'm here, in this stupid place... And I hate these people. I hate everyone."

He starts getting really, vividly upset again. He actually chokes back a sob as he sits up and smears tears away from his face again.

"And I'll always hate everyone because no one ever changes, okay? No one ever does. And now you're going to hate me because... because you think I'm crazy."

He gives up. He buries his face in his hands and hunches up his shoulders.

He really couldn't explain why he's so fascinated with getting to actually hear and see the evidence of what's going on in Robin's skull spelled out right in front of him. It's not like he ever finds it especially surprising. Most of the time, it's just confirming things he'd already guessed at.

And it's not like he hasn't seen these thoughts and emotions before. He's been around for a long time. There's very little here that could be called 'new.'

But, nevertheless, he's just as interested as he's been every other time Robin has cracked open some corner of his mind and let things pour out of it. Something about it tugs at some back corner of his own head.

If he didn't know any better, he'd almost say that he felt somehow invested in it.

It's probably just curiosity.

"And that makes you sad? ...Is it that you're homesick? Or are you worried about something?"

"I don't know."

He spends a moment, drunk and miserable and spinning now that he's shoved his hands over his eyes. He wishes he could disappear. He feels sick, and it's not good.

"...Can we go back? Please...?" And, finally, "I don't want to be alone."

Oh, well. That answers his questions, he supposes.

And normally, that sort of realization fills him with a smug sort of glee, pleased over the prospect of finding another foothold to use. It's a game he loves playing, but... this instance doesn't play out in his head like it usually does.

It's because there is this certain realization that stands out and lands heavy in his head, then. It's certainly not a new revelation--he's sure that he's made this observation more than once over the course of his life--but there's just something about it that ruins some of his fun this time.

He can't help but become very aware of the fact that the people who ever give him the time of day, the ones that gravitate and stick to him, are the very lonely people. It's especially obvious here, in this little microcosm. And part of that effect is intentional on his part, for sure. They're easy to use; it makes sense. But, in this moment, this fact doesn't help him justify it. Right now, he realizes the fact that these people are the ones that he chooses to surround himself with probably doesn't say something very flattering about himself.

And he doesn't want to think about it a moment more than he has to.

"...Finish your drink, and we'll go."

He's suddenly finding himself wanting to make sure that Robin remembers as little about this as possible.

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