[Armin’s got a point. Aubrey will never not be grateful at least one person here can stay calm under pressure.]
…I don’t know. It sounded so real, but… [She grips her left hand, right thumb rubbing along that gash. The shadow-Eren, young as he was, that stabbed her—he sounded real, too. So did his faceless mother. Hell, even Armin on the rooftops did, even though Armin didn’t remember leaving the store.]
I just heard his voice, calling from me—nothing else. Usually there’s more to an illusion....
[Well. There was, faintly, something else. Or so it seemed? It was so brief, and Eren’s was unmistakable.]
[Armin nods, his expression...conflicted. It's not necessarily the most reassuring thing; he's thinking. It's a lot to grapple with - this place and everything about it.]
It could have been Eren. Easily.
It could have been something else too...
What happened the last time you saw him? Can you remember? Was it recent?
[He does idly note the gash on her hand. He can ask about that later.]
[Aubrey’s not sure what’s worse, the idea of Eren stuck out there somewhere, pleading for her—or that something else in the world might use that as a fucked-up siren call. It’s working, whatever it is; she just… can’t… reach it....
[She at least manages not to direct that frustration Armin’s way, though her own expression is turbulent. The last time she saw Eren, well…]
[Ah. Their last meeting didn't go great then, huh? He nods.]
Alright. Let's find a table.
[He glances around. Pickin's are slim - not. There's not a single occupied table in the place. He leads her to the nearest one, gesturing for her to take a seat before taking one on his own.]
[Aubrey, looking anywhere but Armin’s face, simply nods and follows him to the seat. Not a booth, more in the middle of the place… strange that that shadow-hostess isn’t floating around. It’s even weirder to expect a haunting like that, though.]
[She’s just gotten seated, barely starting to talk, when the lights flicker.]
[Mari doesn’t remember becoming a waitress. And yet, in the split second it takes for the light to reappear, she finds herself standing in front of a diner table with a notepad in hand. The script leaves her lips before her mind can catch up.]
Hi! Welcome to Denny’s. My name’s Mari and I’ll be your waitress today. How can I serve you two this evening?
[The pink-haired girl stares at her, mouth open, like she’s seeing a ghost.]
[Armin doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary at first, but that only lasts for a couple of seconds. He's about to say something about coffee - something that will get the shadow waitress to leave them alone for a while while they talk - except it isn't a shadow waitress. And Aubrey looks like she's just seen a ghost.
[He sends a worried glance to his friend, waiting for her reaction to play out to completion. This doesn't seem like his place...]
Edited (literally changing one word) 2023-10-17 18:27 (UTC)
[Hmm. Neither of them are answering. Did she say something wrong? The blonde young man seems calm enough. Mari can’t lie, there’s something strangely familiar about the girl; her cyan bow-ribbon even looks a lot like Mari’s hair tie.
[Still, it’s unprofessional to make a scene.] I’ll leave you for a few, then. Love your hair, by the way! [Maybe some nice words will calm her down?] And the cape. [For him, too.]
[Aubrey wanted to dye her hair pink. Mari turns before her smile can falter. She should be finding that girl, not working at—Denny’s, is it? Maybe she can ask someone in the back for information....]
Edited (imagine not making typos) 2023-10-17 18:48 (UTC)
[This is hell. This is hell. This is Hell. “Mari” only glanced at her for a second, like she didn’t recognize— She doesn’t recognize—
[Aubrey covers her face in her hands and lowers her head, curling in on herself, shaking. She desperately wants to pretend that was a stranger; just a coincidence, the name, the smile, the voice. She’s glad the waitress left; she wants to get up and grab her and pull her back, forever.]
A-Armin… [It’s barely over a whisper.] Did… did you see her, too? Was that an illusion?
[Armin's brow pinches with concern as Aubrey doubles over. She's shaking. He won't touch her without permission, but his hand does hover nearby, as if he might have to steady her. Is she going to pass out?]
I did see her. [She must be someone important to Aubrey. Maybe...someone who isn't around anymore where Aubrey's from?]
I...don't think that was an illusion, no, although...it's a bit hard to say...
[There was a time when seeing, even hearing, the living specter of Mari might not have phased Aubrey this much. Jarring, sure, but not like this. She’s been here too long. She’s worried sick about Eren. She’s tired. She’s so goddamn tired....]
[Is Armin’s confirmation a blessing or a curse? Like every other fucking thing here, it’s both and neither, all in one.]
[The “waitress” doesn’t return right away, just as she said. (Turns out trying to make small talk with backstage shadows is a futile endeavor.) Steadily, Aubrey stops shaking, and wills herself to sit back up. Still visibly shaken, but she can delay a total meltdown as long as “Mari” is out of sight. Probably.]
Sorry. S-sorry. [There’s nothing there, but she wipes her eyes briefly.] Mari is… [A sister. A mother. A friend. Everything she wanted and could never, can never, have.]
…She meant a lot to me.
[Eren. She came here to talk about Eren. She stalls, a little, first.] Have you… seen anyone else here, since? Besides me and Eren.
[Mentioning Bertholdt outright could be too much, but…] …Even if they’ve passed on, in your world.
[Armin frowns, glancing down at his knuckles, which are tapping idly against the table. He shakes his head.]
No, I haven't. I mean, I thought at first that maybe Eren and I were...[His voice trails off. It's too terrible to think about. He sucks it up anyway.]
I thought maybe we were dead, but...I don't know if I really buy that anymore.
[There's a pause.]
The other day in that department store, when I had that breakdown...I thought for a second that I saw someone - the boy I was telling you about.
I wouldn't place my bets on that, though. It could have easily been one of Bertholdt's memories or something like that. I see them all the time.
[But why would he see him in one of his memories...?]
[It’s impossible to tell if anyone here died or not, isn’t it? Bertholdt’s the only one who’s been certain. Aubrey’s starting to think it doesn’t matter. (But then, Mari…)
[Focus. Armin was aware of Bertholdt, then. There’s no point keeping him in the dark.]
It might’ve been both your memories, actually. [Shame there’s no swirling coffee to stare at. Aubrey watches Armin’s tapping knuckles, instead.]
I don’t know how much you were there for, but… I ended up on a rooftop, with Bertholdt. [Her own hands pull at each other; a slow, absent motion. She misses Eren’s palms over hers, even if last time he seemed to want to break her.] You turned into an illusion, at some point. And Bertholdt knew—that you weren’t there, and that he had died.
[A pause. That’s a lot to take in; she won’t bring Reiner in yet. But…] He doesn’t blame you. For what happened.
[Armin looks up from where he'd been tapping his knuckles, expression perplexed and cautious. He listens patiently, knuckles hovering about an inch above the wooden table, frozen mid-knock. The implications of Bertholdt being here - and Aubrey's friend, if he's understanding right - are...immeasurable. Could this really be some version of Hell?
[Her last words make him suck in a sharp breath through his nose, eyes going slightly wide. He lays his palms down flat on the table, feeling a tickle at the nape of his neck; a tickle in his sinuses as well.]
[That response has Aubrey meeting Armin’s face again. Of course he’s tense. It puts her on alert, too; she won’t reach out just yet, but if he so much as starts to repeat himself… It’s almost impossible to be ready or anything here, but hell if Aubrey won’t try.]
He did. [She nods, slightly; solemn, affirmative. If only she’d paid more attention; there was more to what Bertholdt told Armin, wasn’t there?]
We were trying to wake you up… Well, “you.” I hadn’t realized the real you was gone, yet.
[A steady inhale. Bertholdt never told her to pass anything along, but she feels a bit like a messenger again.] Bertholdt… I think he blames himself, more than anything.
[At this, Armin's expression becomes tight, but not in the way that precedes anger, or anything like that; he's choking back emotion as best he can. He never had time to deal with feelings like this in the real world. There would be no way of knowing what Bertholdt thought of him there. He blames himself?]
Yeah...
[The knuckle-tapping slowly picks up again, and Armin nods, eyes on the table.]
I think...we can all relate to that in some way.
[His throat does go a little hoarse as he's talking; he chokes it back, clearing his throat.]
We were friends. Despite everything, we...were friends once.
[Ah, but. This isn't really about him. Bertholdt's not in the same building as them right now - at least, not to Armin's knowledge. But...someone else is.]
Do...you want to talk about it? Your friend...?
[She should be back any minute, but...here? Who knows?]
[Maybe that’s what this is—a special Hell for people floundering in their own guilt. Aubrey watches Armin closely as he talks, and much as it’s a relief that he stays present, it doesn’t make it any easier to see him hold back.
[Of course he wants to shift the topic. Uneasy as it makes Aubrey, she can do that much for him. She still doesn’t know if she wants “her friend” to come back or not.]
I-I mean… she passed away four years ago. [It’s Aubrey’s turn to stare at the table, visibly restrained. It’s easier to talk about Mari like a passing memory, not someone who might actually be here.] I was twelve. Of course she wouldn’t recognize— Why would she be here?
What’s the lesson? The world’s sweetest person—
[Muffled, from somewhere in the kitchen: “You’re being very rude!”
[Aubrey… has heard that voice, too, on occasion.]
[It’s funny, in a horrible sort of way. She looks back to Armin, not quite smiling; it’s more of a cringe, a secondhand embarrassment.] I thought I was over it. It’s not like she ever did me any wrong....
[There’s one possibility gnawing at Aubrey, and she doesn’t want to say it. She never did learn why Mari killed herself. Could this world really be that cruel…?]
[Goodness, the staff here are bizarre. Faceless, for one, and hardly conversational. But there’s no point nagging dead ends, and Mari might as well turn her attention back to the people waiting for her. She’ll make their food herself if she has to.]
[Pink girl isn’t facing her, but doesn’t seem too upset anymore. (She is, unbeknownst to Mari, staring very intently at her hands, and deliberately not moving.) Back to business, then.]
[With a smile to the young man, then:] Have you decided what you’d like to order?
[It's difficult to hear Aubrey talk about her late friend; after all, grief is Armin's oldest friend, second only to Eren. He wants to reach out - he starts to, in case she'd like a hand to hold for a moment - but he stops himself when he sees Mari approaching.
[This is a real person. He can't blow her off like he does the staff (he doesn't do that either, actually--). Part of him wonders if he should send her away, tell her that they don't want service right now, but...who is he to rob Aubrey of an opportunity to talk with an old friend...?
[He inclines his head toward her, keeping his voice very soft, very quiet.]
Aubrey...?
[If Mari overhears him, it could easily sound like he's asking her if she wants anything.]
[It may be quiet, but Mari’s brother is very soft indeed; she’s used to reading lips. Moreover, it’s silent enough in here to hear a pen drop. Which it does, when the realization clicks.
[The hair. The bow. The… reaction, somehow. Certainly not quite the Aubrey who Mari knows, but—
[She chokes back a sob, and Mari would recognize that anywhere.]
[Mari kneels down beside the table, and Aubrey just crumbles. She can’t quite bring herself to turn, but she doesn’t cover her face, either; it’s her, it’s her, it’s her. Mari’s talking to her in that soft, gentle voice she hasn’t heard in so long, and it makes her want to wail like a baby. If Armin wasn’t here, and if she had just a little less pride, she might as well.]
“You’ve gotten so big…!” [Aubrey can’t even be mad she’s being talked to like she is, well, still 12. Finally she turns her head, as Mari takes a strand of pink between her fingers; that scrap of dignity is on very, very thin ice.] “And you dyed your hair…! Told you pink would be cute on you.”
[Oh, hell with it. Aubrey throws herself at Mari in a hug, blubbering.] I missed you… so much....
[Mari hears this entirely the wrong way. Of course Aubrey misses her; seems lots of time has passed in this strange place, and she’s been stuck with that… whoever it was.
[It remains unvoiced for the moment, however. She sits back on the floor and lets Aubrey—older, it seems, but doubtlessly still Aubrey—fall into her, holding tight. Mari strokes her hair, brushing it with her fingers, and Aubrey cries harder. Poor girl....]
[Mari has many, many questions, but she’ll indulge this just a biiit longer. There’s no one around to see, anyway—except this person Aubrey’s with. And since Aubrey’s not exactly in talking shape, Mari addresses him directly, with an eternally grateful smile:]
[Aubrey leans back at that, albeit staying close. Part of her never wants to look away from Mari’s perfect, beautiful face again—but Mari is looking elsewhere, and Aubrey wipes her eyes and follows that gaze back up to Armin.]
O-oh, sorry… This is my friend Armin. Armin, Mari.
[She tears herself back as Mari offers Armin a handshake; Mari stands, while she’s at it, and when Aubrey helps her up, Aubrey keeps her hand held tight.]
[For once, things actually feel, truly and with no denial, like they could be okay.]
[When it comes to keeping Aubrey safe, Armin really has to give that to Eren; he's sure Aubrey would too. There comes the grim reminder, though; Eren isn't here.
[Polite as ever, Armin obliges, shaking Mari's hand with a sincere smile.]
It's wonderful to meet you, Mari.
[He'd say he's heard a lot about her, but he hasn't. Hell, he hasn't even heard all that much about Aubrey, but...]
You as well, Armin. [Mari has a small, pleasant smile around others as a default; as she takes Armin’s hand, it could not be more genuine. Her handshake is soft as the typical tone of her voice, but no less self-assured.]
You must know a lot about this place—both of you? [With a side glance to Aubrey, who nods. Mari doesn’t want to press her, however; Lord knows what she’s had to see out here. Armin looks capable, not to mention that… gear, of some sort? So Mari’s attention returns to him.]
[Aubrey is stung, lightly, by this, but it’s sensible enough; Mari knows her, to some degree, and Armin is new. She figures she and Mari will have plenty of time to catch up later, and stays back for the moment. Gives her a chance to collect herself, too.]
[Mari continues:] And I don’t just mean this restaurant. [She takes a glance around; still empty as ever.] This isn’t a real Denny’s, is it?
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[Armin’s got a point. Aubrey will never not be grateful at least one person here can stay calm under pressure.]
…I don’t know. It sounded so real, but… [She grips her left hand, right thumb rubbing along that gash. The shadow-Eren, young as he was, that stabbed her—he sounded real, too. So did his faceless mother. Hell, even Armin on the rooftops did, even though Armin didn’t remember leaving the store.]
I just heard his voice, calling from me—nothing else. Usually there’s more to an illusion....
[Well. There was, faintly, something else. Or so it seemed? It was so brief, and Eren’s was unmistakable.]
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It could have been Eren. Easily.
It could have been something else too...
What happened the last time you saw him? Can you remember? Was it recent?
[He does idly note the gash on her hand. He can ask about that later.]
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[Aubrey’s not sure what’s worse, the idea of Eren stuck out there somewhere, pleading for her—or that something else in the world might use that as a fucked-up siren call. It’s working, whatever it is; she just… can’t… reach it....
[She at least manages not to direct that frustration Armin’s way, though her own expression is turbulent. The last time she saw Eren, well…]
We should sit down.
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Alright. Let's find a table.
[He glances around. Pickin's are slim - not. There's not a single occupied table in the place. He leads her to the nearest one, gesturing for her to take a seat before taking one on his own.]
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[Aubrey, looking anywhere but Armin’s face, simply nods and follows him to the seat. Not a booth, more in the middle of the place… strange that that shadow-hostess isn’t floating around. It’s even weirder to expect a haunting like that, though.]
[She’s just gotten seated, barely starting to talk, when the lights flicker.]
2/2 whoops
[Mari doesn’t remember becoming a waitress. And yet, in the split second it takes for the light to reappear, she finds herself standing in front of a diner table with a notepad in hand. The script leaves her lips before her mind can catch up.]
Hi! Welcome to Denny’s. My name’s Mari and I’ll be your waitress today. How can I serve you two this evening?
[The pink-haired girl stares at her, mouth open, like she’s seeing a ghost.]
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[He sends a worried glance to his friend, waiting for her reaction to play out to completion. This doesn't seem like his place...]
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[Hmm. Neither of them are answering. Did she say something wrong? The blonde young man seems calm enough. Mari can’t lie, there’s something strangely familiar about the girl; her cyan bow-ribbon even looks a lot like Mari’s hair tie.
[Still, it’s unprofessional to make a scene.] I’ll leave you for a few, then. Love your hair, by the way! [Maybe some nice words will calm her down?] And the cape. [For him, too.]
[Aubrey wanted to dye her hair pink. Mari turns before her smile can falter. She should be finding that girl, not working at—Denny’s, is it? Maybe she can ask someone in the back for information....]
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[This is hell. This is hell. This is Hell. “Mari” only glanced at her for a second, like she didn’t recognize— She doesn’t recognize—
[Aubrey covers her face in her hands and lowers her head, curling in on herself, shaking. She desperately wants to pretend that was a stranger; just a coincidence, the name, the smile, the voice. She’s glad the waitress left; she wants to get up and grab her and pull her back, forever.]
A-Armin… [It’s barely over a whisper.] Did… did you see her, too? Was that an illusion?
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I did see her. [She must be someone important to Aubrey. Maybe...someone who isn't around anymore where Aubrey's from?]
I...don't think that was an illusion, no, although...it's a bit hard to say...
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[There was a time when seeing, even hearing, the living specter of Mari might not have phased Aubrey this much. Jarring, sure, but not like this. She’s been here too long. She’s worried sick about Eren. She’s tired. She’s so goddamn tired....]
[Is Armin’s confirmation a blessing or a curse? Like every other fucking thing here, it’s both and neither, all in one.]
[The “waitress” doesn’t return right away, just as she said. (Turns out trying to make small talk with backstage shadows is a futile endeavor.) Steadily, Aubrey stops shaking, and wills herself to sit back up. Still visibly shaken, but she can delay a total meltdown as long as “Mari” is out of sight. Probably.]
Sorry. S-sorry. [There’s nothing there, but she wipes her eyes briefly.] Mari is… [A sister. A mother. A friend. Everything she wanted and could never, can never, have.]
…She meant a lot to me.
[Eren. She came here to talk about Eren. She stalls, a little, first.] Have you… seen anyone else here, since? Besides me and Eren.
[Mentioning Bertholdt outright could be too much, but…] …Even if they’ve passed on, in your world.
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No, I haven't. I mean, I thought at first that maybe Eren and I were...[His voice trails off. It's too terrible to think about. He sucks it up anyway.]
I thought maybe we were dead, but...I don't know if I really buy that anymore.
[There's a pause.]
The other day in that department store, when I had that breakdown...I thought for a second that I saw someone - the boy I was telling you about.
I wouldn't place my bets on that, though. It could have easily been one of Bertholdt's memories or something like that. I see them all the time.
[But why would he see him in one of his memories...?]
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[It’s impossible to tell if anyone here died or not, isn’t it? Bertholdt’s the only one who’s been certain. Aubrey’s starting to think it doesn’t matter. (But then, Mari…)
[Focus. Armin was aware of Bertholdt, then. There’s no point keeping him in the dark.]
It might’ve been both your memories, actually. [Shame there’s no swirling coffee to stare at. Aubrey watches Armin’s tapping knuckles, instead.]
I don’t know how much you were there for, but… I ended up on a rooftop, with Bertholdt. [Her own hands pull at each other; a slow, absent motion. She misses Eren’s palms over hers, even if last time he seemed to want to break her.] You turned into an illusion, at some point. And Bertholdt knew—that you weren’t there, and that he had died.
[A pause. That’s a lot to take in; she won’t bring Reiner in yet. But…] He doesn’t blame you. For what happened.
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[Her last words make him suck in a sharp breath through his nose, eyes going slightly wide. He lays his palms down flat on the table, feeling a tickle at the nape of his neck; a tickle in his sinuses as well.]
Bertholdt...told you that? Really?
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[That response has Aubrey meeting Armin’s face again. Of course he’s tense. It puts her on alert, too; she won’t reach out just yet, but if he so much as starts to repeat himself… It’s almost impossible to be ready or anything here, but hell if Aubrey won’t try.]
He did. [She nods, slightly; solemn, affirmative. If only she’d paid more attention; there was more to what Bertholdt told Armin, wasn’t there?]
We were trying to wake you up… Well, “you.” I hadn’t realized the real you was gone, yet.
[A steady inhale. Bertholdt never told her to pass anything along, but she feels a bit like a messenger again.] Bertholdt… I think he blames himself, more than anything.
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Yeah...
[The knuckle-tapping slowly picks up again, and Armin nods, eyes on the table.]
I think...we can all relate to that in some way.
[His throat does go a little hoarse as he's talking; he chokes it back, clearing his throat.]
We were friends. Despite everything, we...were friends once.
[Ah, but. This isn't really about him. Bertholdt's not in the same building as them right now - at least, not to Armin's knowledge. But...someone else is.]
Do...you want to talk about it? Your friend...?
[She should be back any minute, but...here? Who knows?]
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[Maybe that’s what this is—a special Hell for people floundering in their own guilt. Aubrey watches Armin closely as he talks, and much as it’s a relief that he stays present, it doesn’t make it any easier to see him hold back.
[Of course he wants to shift the topic. Uneasy as it makes Aubrey, she can do that much for him. She still doesn’t know if she wants “her friend” to come back or not.]
I-I mean… she passed away four years ago. [It’s Aubrey’s turn to stare at the table, visibly restrained. It’s easier to talk about Mari like a passing memory, not someone who might actually be here.] I was twelve. Of course she wouldn’t recognize— Why would she be here?
What’s the lesson? The world’s sweetest person—
[Muffled, from somewhere in the kitchen: “You’re being very rude!”
[Aubrey… has heard that voice, too, on occasion.]
[It’s funny, in a horrible sort of way. She looks back to Armin, not quite smiling; it’s more of a cringe, a secondhand embarrassment.] I thought I was over it. It’s not like she ever did me any wrong....
[There’s one possibility gnawing at Aubrey, and she doesn’t want to say it. She never did learn why Mari killed herself. Could this world really be that cruel…?]
2/2
Very sorry about that!
[Goodness, the staff here are bizarre. Faceless, for one, and hardly conversational. But there’s no point nagging dead ends, and Mari might as well turn her attention back to the people waiting for her. She’ll make their food herself if she has to.]
[Pink girl isn’t facing her, but doesn’t seem too upset anymore. (She is, unbeknownst to Mari, staring very intently at her hands, and deliberately not moving.) Back to business, then.]
[With a smile to the young man, then:] Have you decided what you’d like to order?
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[This is a real person. He can't blow her off like he does the staff (he doesn't do that either, actually--). Part of him wonders if he should send her away, tell her that they don't want service right now, but...who is he to rob Aubrey of an opportunity to talk with an old friend...?
[He inclines his head toward her, keeping his voice very soft, very quiet.]
Aubrey...?
[If Mari overhears him, it could easily sound like he's asking her if she wants anything.]
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Aubrey?
[It may be quiet, but Mari’s brother is very soft indeed; she’s used to reading lips. Moreover, it’s silent enough in here to hear a pen drop. Which it does, when the realization clicks.
[The hair. The bow. The… reaction, somehow. Certainly not quite the Aubrey who Mari knows, but—
[She chokes back a sob, and Mari would recognize that anywhere.]
Aubrey…
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“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
[Mari kneels down beside the table, and Aubrey just crumbles. She can’t quite bring herself to turn, but she doesn’t cover her face, either; it’s her, it’s her, it’s her. Mari’s talking to her in that soft, gentle voice she hasn’t heard in so long, and it makes her want to wail like a baby. If Armin wasn’t here, and if she had just a little less pride, she might as well.]
“You’ve gotten so big…!” [Aubrey can’t even be mad she’s being talked to like she is, well, still 12. Finally she turns her head, as Mari takes a strand of pink between her fingers; that scrap of dignity is on very, very thin ice.] “And you dyed your hair…! Told you pink would be cute on you.”
[Oh, hell with it. Aubrey throws herself at Mari in a hug, blubbering.] I missed you… so much....
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[Mari hears this entirely the wrong way. Of course Aubrey misses her; seems lots of time has passed in this strange place, and she’s been stuck with that… whoever it was.
[It remains unvoiced for the moment, however. She sits back on the floor and lets Aubrey—older, it seems, but doubtlessly still Aubrey—fall into her, holding tight. Mari strokes her hair, brushing it with her fingers, and Aubrey cries harder. Poor girl....]
[Mari has many, many questions, but she’ll indulge this just a biiit longer. There’s no one around to see, anyway—except this person Aubrey’s with. And since Aubrey’s not exactly in talking shape, Mari addresses him directly, with an eternally grateful smile:]
Thank you for keeping her safe.
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[…Huh?]
[Aubrey leans back at that, albeit staying close. Part of her never wants to look away from Mari’s perfect, beautiful face again—but Mari is looking elsewhere, and Aubrey wipes her eyes and follows that gaze back up to Armin.]
O-oh, sorry… This is my friend Armin. Armin, Mari.
[She tears herself back as Mari offers Armin a handshake; Mari stands, while she’s at it, and when Aubrey helps her up, Aubrey keeps her hand held tight.]
[For once, things actually feel, truly and with no denial, like they could be okay.]
famous last words, aub
[Polite as ever, Armin obliges, shaking Mari's hand with a sincere smile.]
It's wonderful to meet you, Mari.
[He'd say he's heard a lot about her, but he hasn't. Hell, he hasn't even heard all that much about Aubrey, but...]
1/1
You as well, Armin. [Mari has a small, pleasant smile around others as a default; as she takes Armin’s hand, it could not be more genuine. Her handshake is soft as the typical tone of her voice, but no less self-assured.]
You must know a lot about this place—both of you? [With a side glance to Aubrey, who nods. Mari doesn’t want to press her, however; Lord knows what she’s had to see out here. Armin looks capable, not to mention that… gear, of some sort? So Mari’s attention returns to him.]
[Aubrey is stung, lightly, by this, but it’s sensible enough; Mari knows her, to some degree, and Armin is new. She figures she and Mari will have plenty of time to catch up later, and stays back for the moment. Gives her a chance to collect herself, too.]
[Mari continues:] And I don’t just mean this restaurant. [She takes a glance around; still empty as ever.] This isn’t a real Denny’s, is it?
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2/2
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1/3
(no subject)
3/3
(no subject)
1/1
(no subject)
1/1
(no subject)
(no subject)
2/3 whoops
3/3
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
(no subject)
3/3 imagine remembering title numbers
I lied I’m up
🤝 (1/2)
2/2
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
1/1
(no subject)
1/1?
introspection only tag for u
1/1 wow novel
(no subject)
2/2
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
1/1
(no subject)
1/1 until further notice
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/4
3/4
4/4
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
1/2
2/2