Accepting the offered space, she does opt to make herself comfortable next to him, though she seems to be preoccupied with taking in the neat little burrow he's made for himself first. The cushions are nice and plush, the fairy lights cutting shapes in the smoke creating a dreamy sort of atmosphere and giving her a sort of floaty feeling... This is nice. Maybe she'll steal this idea and make her own burrow back home in the castle and invite him over next time.
"Y'know, I think I could live like this." she giggles, snuggling up against him. "This is way better than a coffin. Still gives you that cocooned feeling without being too claustrophobic, y'know?"
The smoke is mmmmaybe starting to get to her though. She has to blink a few times and rub at her eyes before she can squint at the source, she finally puts two and two together, dusting off memories from her time at the police academy. Oh, wow, that's--
"Are you-- is that..." She points towards the ashtray, fighting and losing to the urge to laugh. "You're smoking weed in here?" Not that she sounds like she's judging him or anything, but more like she actually expected it and yet managed to be surprised anyway.
Of course Bruno smokes weed in the most comfortable pillow fort Ryslig has to offer. Of course he does!
When she snuggles in with him he curls one arm around her, the other hand resting on his middle.
"I can't imagine what sleeping in a coffin would be like, but I won't judge." A beat. "Though I bet it's kinda comfy with all that satin."
At the mention of the weed he looks at it and a wry smile touches his face. "Yeah. It's been... well, it's been a really... nerve-wracking couple of days."
As though reminded of it, he picks the joint up and takes a nice, long drag from it, blowing the smoke off to the side with a contented sigh. "Mmmh, takes the edge off the constant panic."
The fact that he doesn't cough on it despite no doubt having delicate rodent lungs speaks to how accustomed he's gotten to it. It explains a lot. But it really is congruent with his gentle and comforting personality.
After a moment, he adds, "Being a Pooka means being high-strung. D'you wanna try some?"
"Yeah? No kidding..." she mutters, exhaling a long, world-weary sigh. She looks down at the bandages on her arm before slipping it up to hide beneath her chest, resting her hand on his leg.
"Did something weird happen t'you, too?" She watches him take his hit with an apprehensive sort of curiosity, far from put off, but still fairly uncertain as to whether or not she should ask to partake. Even if she'd never really been a smoker herself, she couldn't deny that it certainly made others look pretty cool.
She's struggling to take her eyes off of him again-- the light illuminating the swirling smoke around his silhouette makes this moment almost frameable, like she would hang this vision on her wall if she could. ...Wow, is she catching some sort of buzz already? That felt like a high thought on its own.
"Ah..." she hesitates, glancing between the joint and his expression, warm and inviting, not the slightest hint of pressure. Maybe... it would be okay if she did. It's not like she isn't already breathing the stuff in, right?
He'd wonder why anyone would want to frame a picture of him. He doesn't have what he figures anyone would consider a conventionally attractive face--it's too pale, in his mind, too tired-looking. He's not as sickly-looking as he was, but he's still not exactly the picture of robust health.
He underestimates how charming his smile is.
Gently, he moves his hand toward her, offering the joint. On closer inspection, said hand still has a bit of a ratlike look to it, narrow and delicate, with very short, blunted claws instead of nails. Pooka claws are notoriously tough, one wonders how long he spends filing them down.
"Weird? Yeah." His expression goes a bit mournful at that. "I'm still trying to figure it out--it wasn't anything like a frenzy." Context, Bruno. He puts his thoughts together a little more slowly than usual right now. "Normán, he.... Until we all changed, he was an Arachne, but he became... what was it, not a Demon... a Goblin. And this latest Fog, it got into our minds, brought out more of our Monster nature, made us more likely to frenzy, but with him it was more like another personality took over." His brows knit with confusion. "A really... evil personality. I know him--well, as well as anyone can know people, here--he's very kind and generous, a good person. What came over him at that carnival was... scarier than a lot of things in this place."
He finds he's trembling again and shakes his head as though to rattle the memory out of place.
Robust health is a lie. No one ever feels as good as they look, anyway.
Her own appearance belies the harrowing life she's led, the terrors she's witnessed, the obstacles she's overcome. She would probably out-wrinkle him by a country mile if it weren't for the vampirism stunting her growth so many decades ago. It didn't take very long for Seras to understand why her Master valued human's ability to age the way they do; there's such beauty to be found in laugh lines and "crow's feet," dark circles and scars, especially when framing a charming smile. It all tells a story about him she hopes she'll get to hear from him one day.
She accepts the joint in her own, decidedly fuzzier little paw, swallowing her nerves before lifting the roll to her lips to take a drag. It's not that unpleasant, but it hits her almost immediately that her poor little pooka lungs weren't prepared to be assaulted by smoke. She hands it back quickly, moving to cover her mouth with both paws, body wracked with coughs for a few seconds. She waves for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt him.
By the time she's gotten her breathing back to normal, she finds herself transfixed on that story, the word 'goblin' alone enough to send a shiver up her spine, raising her hackles.
"W-wait-- you. You know him." she swallows, eying Bruno warily. It feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. Though, she's not sure if it's from nearly choking to death, or simply recalling that terrible creature's expression above her--
"Did he hurt you, too?" She knows she wasn't able to stop him, but did that mean... did that mean he was able to go on and hurt others as well?
Bruno has definitely got a lived-in kind of look, even beyond his careworn face. His soft, snuggly fur covered how delicate he is, how much he looks like he's recovering from something. It's quite a story, one he probably wouldn't mind telling except that it's kind of depressing.
When she starts coughing he rubs her back with one hand, making warm little circles, remembering the dreadful coughing fits it used to give him a long time ago.
"I... knew him. I'm not sure what to think, anymore. I... I could probably ask Otto a few questions, they knew each other in their home universe." He sighs, still gently rubbing her back. His gaze drops--he doesn't want to worry her further, but he should be honest. "Yeah. He did," he whispers. Then he shrugs, smiling a wry smile. "I'm okay, now."
He returns the joint to its little resting place and curls both his arms around her, partially to soothe her, partially to soothe himself, to stop his trembling. "It's okay... we'll get through this. I've gotten kinda good at it since coming here."
Seras wants to be upset. She wants to be angry in this moment, furious with this Norman person for hurting not just herself, but Bruno as well. What kind of maniac could bring themselves to hurt sweet Bruno? Furthermore, who else did that lunatic get his hands on? What other innocent person was he able to hurt because she couldn't stop him? She can't help but feel responsible for this, somehow, but--
But she can see Bruno trying to stave off those feelings, too. He's hurt in more ways than one, by someone he knows, someone who was a friend, and... he doesn't want to think about it right now. She thinks that maybe she shouldn't force him to. He's already curled up in his comfort zone and trying to calm down from it all, so it would certainly be rude to drudge up that panic all over again. Besides, her head's starting to feel as cloudy as the little blanket fort they're curled up in, so thinking is already becoming a little difficult as it stands.
"I'm... sorry I wasn't there to help." She sighs, turning to face him and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, slipping her arms around his middle. There's not much to him, sure, but damnit he's so warm...
"I'm just... so glad you're alright." Of course, she was less so, but... that's neither here nor there. She could ignore it, for now.
"You couldn't have known," Bruno murmurs, holding her snugly to him. Her face against his neck sends heat twirling lazily down his spine and he finds himself caught in an indecision. They're so warm here in this moment, this quiet, trembling point in time that could go in one of a multitude of directions. She can probably hear how his pulse has quickened, his breath coming a little harder around this pull of anticipation in his chest.
"I'm alright," he whispers, slipping warm fingers through her hair. "Are you?"
"I could have stopped him-- I... I tried to." She whimpers, gripping tight to the soft fabric of his ruana for just a moment before the tension in her shoulders releases and she just slumps uselessly against him with a sigh. She can't let herself get upset. She pulls back just enough to look up at him, offering him a sheepish smile.
"I'm... I'm okay, now. It's fine." She says softly, nodding her head, as if trying to reassure herself that this is true.
Seras leans in, bumping her nose against his with a hum. "As long as you're okay, I'm okay."
It always tugs a little painfully at his heart when people say they're alright even though they aren't. What made them have to hide their pain or sorrow? Are all worlds like his where you have no choice but to smile and keep going?
Best not to think on such things. There are much more immediate concerns. She's but a breath away, her scent filling his nose and wicking into his brain and he wonders if his own scent is as heavy as it feels.
"I am, I'm... more than okay, I'm..." His slow, whispered words trail off and his lips brush against hers, hot and soft and gentle. He goes still, hoping he hasn't overstepped, taking a breath to apologise.
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no subject
Accepting the offered space, she does opt to make herself comfortable next to him, though she seems to be preoccupied with taking in the neat little burrow he's made for himself first. The cushions are nice and plush, the fairy lights cutting shapes in the smoke creating a dreamy sort of atmosphere and giving her a sort of floaty feeling... This is nice. Maybe she'll steal this idea and make her own burrow back home in the castle and invite him over next time.
"Y'know, I think I could live like this." she giggles, snuggling up against him. "This is way better than a coffin. Still gives you that cocooned feeling without being too claustrophobic, y'know?"
The smoke is mmmmaybe starting to get to her though. She has to blink a few times and rub at her eyes before she can squint at the source, she finally puts two and two together, dusting off memories from her time at the police academy. Oh, wow, that's--
"Are you-- is that..." She points towards the ashtray, fighting and losing to the urge to laugh. "You're smoking weed in here?" Not that she sounds like she's judging him or anything, but more like she actually expected it and yet managed to be surprised anyway.
Of course Bruno smokes weed in the most comfortable pillow fort Ryslig has to offer. Of course he does!
no subject
"I can't imagine what sleeping in a coffin would be like, but I won't judge." A beat. "Though I bet it's kinda comfy with all that satin."
At the mention of the weed he looks at it and a wry smile touches his face. "Yeah. It's been... well, it's been a really... nerve-wracking couple of days."
As though reminded of it, he picks the joint up and takes a nice, long drag from it, blowing the smoke off to the side with a contented sigh. "Mmmh, takes the edge off the constant panic."
The fact that he doesn't cough on it despite no doubt having delicate rodent lungs speaks to how accustomed he's gotten to it. It explains a lot. But it really is congruent with his gentle and comforting personality.
After a moment, he adds, "Being a Pooka means being high-strung. D'you wanna try some?"
no subject
"Did something weird happen t'you, too?" She watches him take his hit with an apprehensive sort of curiosity, far from put off, but still fairly uncertain as to whether or not she should ask to partake. Even if she'd never really been a smoker herself, she couldn't deny that it certainly made others look pretty cool.
She's struggling to take her eyes off of him again-- the light illuminating the swirling smoke around his silhouette makes this moment almost frameable, like she would hang this vision on her wall if she could. ...Wow, is she catching some sort of buzz already? That felt like a high thought on its own.
"Ah..." she hesitates, glancing between the joint and his expression, warm and inviting, not the slightest hint of pressure. Maybe... it would be okay if she did. It's not like she isn't already breathing the stuff in, right?
"Y'know, maybe... maybe I could. Just this once."
no subject
He underestimates how charming his smile is.
Gently, he moves his hand toward her, offering the joint. On closer inspection, said hand still has a bit of a ratlike look to it, narrow and delicate, with very short, blunted claws instead of nails. Pooka claws are notoriously tough, one wonders how long he spends filing them down.
"Weird? Yeah." His expression goes a bit mournful at that. "I'm still trying to figure it out--it wasn't anything like a frenzy." Context, Bruno. He puts his thoughts together a little more slowly than usual right now. "Normán, he.... Until we all changed, he was an Arachne, but he became... what was it, not a Demon... a Goblin. And this latest Fog, it got into our minds, brought out more of our Monster nature, made us more likely to frenzy, but with him it was more like another personality took over." His brows knit with confusion. "A really... evil personality. I know him--well, as well as anyone can know people, here--he's very kind and generous, a good person. What came over him at that carnival was... scarier than a lot of things in this place."
He finds he's trembling again and shakes his head as though to rattle the memory out of place.
no subject
Her own appearance belies the harrowing life she's led, the terrors she's witnessed, the obstacles she's overcome. She would probably out-wrinkle him by a country mile if it weren't for the vampirism stunting her growth so many decades ago. It didn't take very long for Seras to understand why her Master valued human's ability to age the way they do; there's such beauty to be found in laugh lines and "crow's feet," dark circles and scars, especially when framing a charming smile. It all tells a story about him she hopes she'll get to hear from him one day.
She accepts the joint in her own, decidedly fuzzier little paw, swallowing her nerves before lifting the roll to her lips to take a drag. It's not that unpleasant, but it hits her almost immediately that her poor little pooka lungs weren't prepared to be assaulted by smoke. She hands it back quickly, moving to cover her mouth with both paws, body wracked with coughs for a few seconds. She waves for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt him.
By the time she's gotten her breathing back to normal, she finds herself transfixed on that story, the word 'goblin' alone enough to send a shiver up her spine, raising her hackles.
"W-wait-- you. You know him." she swallows, eying Bruno warily. It feels like her heart is going to beat out of her chest. Though, she's not sure if it's from nearly choking to death, or simply recalling that terrible creature's expression above her--
"Did he hurt you, too?" She knows she wasn't able to stop him, but did that mean... did that mean he was able to go on and hurt others as well?
no subject
When she starts coughing he rubs her back with one hand, making warm little circles, remembering the dreadful coughing fits it used to give him a long time ago.
"I... knew him. I'm not sure what to think, anymore. I... I could probably ask Otto a few questions, they knew each other in their home universe." He sighs, still gently rubbing her back. His gaze drops--he doesn't want to worry her further, but he should be honest. "Yeah. He did," he whispers. Then he shrugs, smiling a wry smile. "I'm okay, now."
He returns the joint to its little resting place and curls both his arms around her, partially to soothe her, partially to soothe himself, to stop his trembling. "It's okay... we'll get through this. I've gotten kinda good at it since coming here."
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But she can see Bruno trying to stave off those feelings, too. He's hurt in more ways than one, by someone he knows, someone who was a friend, and... he doesn't want to think about it right now. She thinks that maybe she shouldn't force him to. He's already curled up in his comfort zone and trying to calm down from it all, so it would certainly be rude to drudge up that panic all over again. Besides, her head's starting to feel as cloudy as the little blanket fort they're curled up in, so thinking is already becoming a little difficult as it stands.
"I'm... sorry I wasn't there to help." She sighs, turning to face him and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, slipping her arms around his middle. There's not much to him, sure, but damnit he's so warm...
"I'm just... so glad you're alright." Of course, she was less so, but... that's neither here nor there. She could ignore it, for now.
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"I'm alright," he whispers, slipping warm fingers through her hair. "Are you?"
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"I'm... I'm okay, now. It's fine." She says softly, nodding her head, as if trying to reassure herself that this is true.
Seras leans in, bumping her nose against his with a hum. "As long as you're okay, I'm okay."
no subject
Best not to think on such things. There are much more immediate concerns. She's but a breath away, her scent filling his nose and wicking into his brain and he wonders if his own scent is as heavy as it feels.
"I am, I'm... more than okay, I'm..." His slow, whispered words trail off and his lips brush against hers, hot and soft and gentle. He goes still, hoping he hasn't overstepped, taking a breath to apologise.