02.09.09 - Conscious Choice

Location: Redwall Great Hall

Characters Involved: Harper, Darcy

Harper has found his way back into the Great Hall and he is once again grading papers. His quill slashes across the page, splashing the writing with his mighty judgment! Aha! Ha! Haha. Er.

Darcy has been infirmary-ing. She moves down the steps, digging out a piece of something from a pouch in her pocket and chewing on this. Slowly, thoughtfully chewing. The doe approaches Harper, lifts her brows. "Does that make you feel better..?" she asks, indicating the rather violent grading.

Harper's eyebrows go up. "Does... grading papers. Make me feel better?" He glances up after he says this, looking tired but well.

"Stabbing them. With your quill," Darcy points out, both hands sliding into her pockets. "Stress relief? Over-enthusiasm?"

"... The way I grade?" Harper pipes up, as that ever-curious Third Option.

Harper says, "Especially when I've a week's worth to get through."

Darcy rolls her eyes, and a vague little smile shows across her muzzle as she moves to sink into the chair next to his. "Hey, I just got done going through that much worth of worknotes and research. We're about square."

"I wouldn't say so," Harper disagrees with a faint smile. "I put you out this week. I'm sorry. I... thanks, though."

Darcy's eyes close briefly. "... I didn't sleep for. Three or four. Days, Harp." Her voice is soft.

"Which is why I wouldn't say we're square," Harper responds with that same faint smile. "Square would imply I don't owe you anything. You didn't have to do what you did. So... thanks."

Darcy shrugs, and shakes her head, looking off. "I was worried. ... I was just. Worried. I'm glad you.. you're okay. You /are/ okay?"

Harper has gone back to grading while they talk. He skims a sentence, crosses out a word, writes a correction. "As okay as I'm going to be, I expect."

Darcy says, "Harp."

Harper asks, "Darcy?"

Darcy shuts her eyes most of the way, expression smooth, her ears laid back. ".. why'd you say that stuff to me?"

The quill stutters on the page. Stills. "... I was in a bad place, Darcy. I think you know that. I think you know I didn't mean what I said."

Now her eyes shut all the way. "You were in a bad place for all of it. So .. did you not mean any of what you said?"

Harper looks up and is long silent. "... Darcy." He sounds kind of uncomfortable. His tone asks, 'Why do we have to talk about this?'

Darcy just about flinches at his tone. She opens her eyes, smirks at him, but it's a brave-face kind of smirk and flickers off her muzzle. Her gaze is steady. "Harper."

"I'm sorry for what I put you through." That seems safe.

"/I/ put myself through it," the doe counters, firmly. "I made the choice. I stayed. I held vigil. I took care of you. I could've. Just. ... walked away. Any any time. But you needed me."

Darcy says, "... or you needed someone. And I was there?"

Harper's expression is starting to look a little strained. He looks down at the papers. Perhaps solace there? He shifts his quill paw, absently. "... Can we not just leave it?" Quietly.

Darcy looks off to the side, slouching in her chair a little. "You owe me, right? I want to know." She swallows, doesn't look at him. "So you tell me. And we're square."

"I don't know what you want me to say." The quill-tip rests on the paper, but doesn't move.

Darcy stays quiet, staring hard at something. "I know," she mutters, voice like gravel. ".. I know." Her jaw works a little. Clenches.

Harper's jaw sets. "Then you tell me."

Darcy lifts one hand, pushing the fingertips up into her hair. Her gingery lashes flicker and then close. "I know. .. I knew. The whole damn time." Very, very soft, are her words. Like tiny glass fragments. "Something to.. make you feel better. A little. And. ..."

Harper stands up, abruptly. He won't look up. "I never lied to you, Darce." And with that he's turning, walking for the stairs.

Darcy's muzzle drops forward, hands coming up, fingers pushing back her hair as her shoulders hunch. "Come here," she mutters. "... please?"

The please is all that keeps him there. He turns, looking uneasy, but retraces the few steps he'd managed to take, nonetheless.

Darcy shakes her head, head still down. ".. I'm sorry." Muffled. "I'm /sorry/. I just. You're okay. That's all. That .. is all. I give a damn about. You're okay."

The unease won't leave him. About all of it. "... It's okay," he murmrs. Shrugs. Goes to pick up the papers he abandoned. His students wouldn't appreciate that. "And - yeah. I'm. Okay."

Darcy's muzzle raises a fraction. She takes a breath. ".. you don't have to feel bad."

"No. It's a conscious choice," Harper agrees with a rueful smile.

Darcy lifts her brows. "Feeling bad? Or.."

Harper nods. "That'd be the one."

".. please don't. Don't." Darce stands up; at least he's not looming now. Her muzzle cants upward, expression soft and perplexed. ".. don't feel bad, okay? I stuck around. I wanted to."

"... Okay, I won't." he lies. He smiles faintly.

Darcy's nose twitches. "I mean it. ... anyway it's fine. We. .. so what. Hn." She rubs the side of her face. "Now what."

"Now I think..." And Harper breathes out a sigh, "That I need to go finish these papers before I go to sleep tonight, and that it's going to be a long time before I sleep." He smiles, lamely. He knows that's not the sort of answer she was looking for, but it's all he has the energy for.

Darcy exhales, and gives him a sideways look. "Harp. Come on. You know what I mean.."

"... I know," Harper agrees. "But I can't answer right now. Is that fair?" He's scooped the papers under an arm.

Darcy works the bit of herb in her mouth, grinding it, chewing, her eyes focused off away again. She nods. ".. yeah. Yeah. I just. ... yeah."

"... Yeah." Harper looks tired. Without another word, he leans over to place a kiss to Darcy's forehead. And then he's away, heading for the stairs.

Darcy's eyes shut briefly at the kiss. As Harper heads away she glances over, dark eyes following, and a little smile flickers along her muzzle. "Sleep well..."