#in which eichio kind of learns a lesson and katrin still confuses everyone with her reactions and inability to tell people what shes feeling

[raitrolling]

The Right Thing

You’ve always liked being helpful - well, to be more accurate, you’ve always felt obligated to be helpful - and tonight was no exception. It took a while for your plan to fall in place; Mister Espino wasn’t kidding when he mentioned how difficult it was to get in contact with her after you politely asked him for her trolltag. Even sending her a scanned copy of a certain coworker’s schedule to entice her to visit the mansion more often didn’t seem to provide any response. Then you mentioned a free wine tasting festival in the city, in which over one hundred wines were available to taste test.

-- avariciousAmbition [AA] began trolling melodicMimicry [MM] --

AA: <( … Ok. )

AA: <( I guess… ‘Ll go. )

-- avariciousAmbition [AA] gave up trolling melodicMimicry [MM] --

In hindsight, perhaps over one hundred wines was too big of a number.

You’ve been a bartender for so many of Mister Espino’s parties that you’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve served to however many guests, but you don’t think you’ve seen anyone as drunk as the troll you offered to accompany. Miss Rissah is somehow still standing, but her arms have been so tightly wrapped around yours as she stumbles around and drags you to the next booth that you’re certain that you’re the only thing currently keeping her up.

“C’mon, ‘Chioooo, y’ g’tta try ‘t least th’s one…!”

A glass is shoved in your face, it’s contents almost spilling out and onto your work uniform. You’ve been very lucky that no red wine has fallen onto your suit, while you know how to get alcohol-related stains out of clothing, it’s still quite a hassle. You hold out a hand (the arm not currently trapped by the redblood’s drunken vice grip) and shake your head to decline, much to her pouting dismay.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. This night is just for you! I just want you to have fun, so you don’t need to worry about me!”

“F’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’ne,” She sighs, downing the offered wine instead. You come to realise that your constant refusals to drink is probably contributing to the reason why she is in this state. So much for your promise to make sure she doesn’t end up dead. But, you fear that if you try to stop her she’ll get upset, which is the complete opposite of what you want to do. She seems to be content right now, if acting a little childish.

These same exchanges continue at every new stall. She takes two glasses, you decline one, she drinks both, the stall owner gives the two of you a dirty look (possibly for being lowbloods, but also possibly because you’re supposed to spit the drink into those specially-made containers instead of actually consuming it), and then you move on. It seems that she’s having the time of her life, smiling and laughing and even getting a little cheeky at times. It’s a side of her that you’ve never seen before, and the kind of reaction you were hoping to get. She’s happy! And having fun! It’s an accomplishment that’s making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even if you do keep turning down all the drinks she offers, you do so with a smile, one more genuine than the generic pleasantries you always give. But eventually, you run out of stalls, and Miss Rissah runs out of enthusiasm.

She’s been quiet for a while, and while you had noticed, you admit you weren’t paying as close attention as you should have been. You were more focused on politely thanking every stallholder for letting your partner try their wares and then quickly catching any glasses that fell out of her hands before they hit the ground using your psiionics, which you think that at one point became a bit of a game to her. With all the wines successfully sampled, you ask if she’d like to go home now, and she responds with just a small nod. You take out your phone so you can look up directions for the way back to her hive, but you feel her grip of your arm loosen for the first time in hours.

“Is everything alright, Miss Rissah?” You ask, concerned.

“‘T’s f’ne.” She doesn’t sound fine. She steps away from you, though its more of a sideways lurch.

“Would you like to sit down, maybe? There’s a park bench nearby, if you need to take a breather. Or I could get you some water? You might be feeling dehydrated.” You rattle off a couple more suggestions, but she shakes her head at all of them.

“Are you sure?”

No response.

The trip back to her hive is uncomfortably quiet. Occasionally (and by that you mean, almost every couple of steps) she sways and stumbles, but you’re quick to make sure she stays on her feet. You offer your arm again to help keep her steady, but she just shakes her head once more. As concerned as you are for her right now, you respect her boundaries to not wrap your arm around her waist for support despite her turning down your help. Also, you’d rather not get stabbed. You’ve heard about her tendency to pull out knives without little warning. You make it three quarters of the way to her hive before she finally speaks.

“S-S’rry… I ruin’d t’night…”

You’re taken aback by that response.

“Ruined? Oh no, I don’t think you ruined anything. I’ve been having lots of fun! As long as you’ve been having fun, I’m happy! You have been having fun, right?” You hope she was having fun. It looked like she was having fun.

She ignores your question.

“No, no… Y’ prob’bly j’st… Y’ d’n’t ev’n l’ke dr’nk’n, ‘nd here I ‘m…” Her words are slurring together - well, they usually have a bit of a slur to them, but it’s reaching the point of being unintelligible. She sniffs, wiping her eyes.

“No no Miss Rissah it’s fine!! Really!! Don’t worry, everything’s fine!” oh no she’s crying now you messed up eichio you stupid idiot now mister mitius is going to be really mad “Really! It’s okay!! I just thought that you’ve been feeling down recently, so I wanted to cheer you up!! I should be the one apologising - I’m sorry, Miss Rissah. I really am. I just wanted you to be happy!” You mean what you said, but your words are sounding desperate. You’re really worried, she was happy just a minute ago, why is she suddenly crying? What did you do wrong? You know alcohol tends to have this affect on some people, but still. It’s not right.

She shakes her head, still slurring some apologies together.

“It- It’s okay! I can fix this- Or at least I’ll try! Wh- What can I do to help?” You hold your arms out to offer a hug. “I can help, honestly! Just- Just tell me what to do!” You can’t help but feel like what you’re saying is painfully hollow. This seems to be a common occurrence lately. You used to be good at this! But now, it just seems like you’re just going through the motions or saying the wrong things and not being helpful at all. First it was Mister Mitius, then Miss Zatter…

“No, ‘t’s my fault… Y’ don’t… H’ve t’ do ‘nythin’... ‘T’s just… I shouldn’t ‘ve dr’nk so much ‘nd n’w ‘M cry’n’ ‘nd ruin’n’ th’ngs ‘nd ‘M sorry I shouldn’ ‘ve come t’night…!” It seems like your own frantic energy is rubbing off on her, judging by how quickly she’s speaking. “‘T’s j’st… Y’ c’nt f’x ‘nyth’n’ ‘cuz ‘t’s my fault-” She continues drunkenly blubbering words that you can’t understand. You can’t understand her, and she won’t listen to you.

Your shoulders slump as you suppress a sigh, lowering your arms. You feel hopeless. You guess this is what Mister Mitius meant by there being some things no one can repair. It was silly of you to think you could do more than what he - someone who had known her for a lot longer than you had, and was in an actual relationship with her as opposed to just being some guy who occasionally made her drinks - could do. As much as you want to help… You can’t. You can’t do anything for people who don’t want to be helped - or rather, are unwilling to accept your help.

But still, you need to do something.

You hesitantly reach out to rest your hand on her shoulder. She flinches, but luckily for you doesn’t respond by taking out any knives.

“If you want, you can just let it all out until it passes. I’ll be here if you need me,” You say reassuringly, still a little nervous about how she’ll react. You find yourself feeling very conscious of your words. Do they sound helpful? Is it the right thing? Will she think you’re being fake? Are you sounding hollow? Condescending? What would anyone else do in this scena-

The last thing you had anticipated was for her to suddenly embrace you in a tight hug. Still sobbing (now with the occasional hiccup), still not giving up feedback as to if you had said the right thing or even telling you how she’s feeling (at least in an intelligible manner), and still not smiling like how you had hoped the night would end. But, it’s a start. You at least got a positive response out of her. 

You may have accomplished nothing that you had wanted to do for her, but somehow it still feels like you did the right thing.