un: hob (text)

[100more]

We're all back from Eos. I don't know how it was for everyone else, but I got to live in a house with two beautiful women and a charming young man. There was a baby, too, but we had to leave her behind.

Now I'm in this flat that I moved into not long before we left for Eos, and it's fine, really, but it seems a bit empty. I know it won't be that way for long, since I'm very much used to living alone, but I wonder if anyone else feels a bit off after sharing a house with other people for a month.

And is it weird if I miss her? I know she wasn't a real baby, but she was so cute and sweet. Wherever you are, I hope you're doing well, little Violet.

Comments

[doctopoda]

Yeah?

[Otto takes a sip of his own whiskey, half to give himself a moment before he responds. The burn reminds him unexpectedly of the bottle he'd stolen from Harry, up at that penthouse - he'd half-forgotten he did that. It's like he's out of control in a different way lately, always thinking of things he doesn't mean or want to.]

My - Rosie. She could sew a bit, but it wasn't her passion. She'd have hated me dressing the way I was, though.

[Maybe that's part of why he bothered fixing it at all. Sure, tearing through shirts was a hassle, but Otto struggles to really care.]

[100more]

[ Hob smiles a little and glances over Otto's new clothes. ]

Well, it suits you. I'm sure she'd be pleased.

[ He lifts his glass in a small toast. ]

To our better halves.

[doctopoda]

Our better halves.

[Otto drains the rest of his glass, and takes the bottle to pour another. With his hands, not claws, though the temptation is there. When he speaks again, he keeps his eyes on it.]

...I feel as though I only really began to reckon with it since getting here. I was...ill, for some time afterwards. Didn't even go to her funeral.

[Putting it that way is far too generous to himself, but...this isn't about him.]

[100more]

[ Hob nods as he listens. ]

I understand that. How hard it is. In a way, I didn't have the time to wallow in my pain. I had a young son to raise. Kept me too busy to mourn as deeply as I might have.

[doctopoda]

Oh.

[That's an entirely different matter. Otto doesn't have anyone to leave behind anymore, but that - even if the boy is older now, he's still got family left back home.]

I'm - sorry. It must be difficult to be away from home like this.

[100more]

[ Hob reaches for the bottle to refill his glass. ]

My son.. is no longer with us.

[ He can't help but shake his head at the tragedy of it all. ]

Sorry, I didn't mean to put all of that out there. Misery loves company, right?

Still, these days, I'm actually quite content. Happy, even, with my life. So, it's possible, you know? To move on, in a way. Not fully, but enough.

[doctopoda]

[god damn it]

No - no, I'm sorry. [Did he just completely lose all ability to socialize normally after the accident? Signs point to maybe!] But I'm certainly glad to hear you're doing better. I...well. I suppose we'll see.

[He doubts there's anything good waiting back home for him, but it's really neither here nor there at this point.]

[100more]

[ Hob takes another drink and nods again in understanding. ]

Thank you. It's not easy. Your Rosie... she sounds like a very special woman.

[doctopoda]

She was. She - she was a poetry professor, at the university. Always had more patience for students than I did. [He snorts.] I should have just gone into academia with her anyway.

[Things would be a lot better off now if he had!]

[100more]

Poetry? That's lovely. I teach history, myself.

[ Hob is already getting an idea of what she must have been like. ]

Hindsight is the worst.

[ He knows he would have done a few things differently, as well. Hob takes up the bottle again and refills Otto's glass for him. ]

[doctopoda]

It is, isn't it.

[He moves to clink his glass against Hob's wryly.]

People always act more impressed by my degrees, but she was the really brilliant one. What is physics, compared to the - the human soul?

[100more]

[ Hob can't hep but smile. ]

You're rather poetic yourself.

[ Hob certainly knows how a loved one can rub off on them. He's sure Otto's wife had a lot to do with his outlook. ]

You must miss her terribly.

[doctopoda]

[Otto snorts.]

Oh, no. I never had a way with words like her.

[Though she has rubbed off on him. He just undersells himself there a bit - partly because it was an old routine between them.]

Yes. I do. [That's not the whole of it, but it's a lot. Maybe most. If his grief outweighs his guilt, does that make him a bad person...? Well, that's a moot point now. He rubs a hand over his face, slightly dislodging his sunglasses before quickly replacing them.] Ah, I'm sorry. I just keep talking about myself.

[100more]

[ Hob smiles. ]

That's why we're here, isn't it? To talk and to drink.

[ And so he'll take another sip of his beverage. ]

[doctopoda]

Fair enough. Tell me more about yourself then, hm?

[He still feels like he's been monologuing a bit. Maybe it's natural, when he hasn't really spoken about any of this before, but - it's still sort of a lot.]

[100more]

[ Hob feels as though he's told Otto far more than he tells most people already. Aside from that one secret he generally keeps to himself. ]

Well, like I said, I teach history. At a university in London. I like it a lot. I was feeling kind of... settled into things when I ended up here.