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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PHIL CONNORS. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 020.22.473.65 *** goodweather has joined 020.22.473.65 <goodweather> You have reached the chatroom of Ryslig's favorite weatherman, Phil Connors <goodweather> If you're contacting me for business deals offer me a price first <goodweather> But if you're looking for a more "fun" time, I'm all ears. ;) | ||||
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[He winks at her, but the coy flirting dies down when she mentions Alfred becoming a vampire. He's going to gently go ahead and order another bourbon.]
Yeah, I know. God why didn't I think about that before? I was too busy thinking that he looks hot as a vampire before I even considered what that would do to him.
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[Seras rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh, reaching for the new drink she's been handed and smiles politely at the bartender before turning an absolutely dumbfounded look to Phil.]
You're serious? [Shaking her head in disbelief as she sips on her beverage.]
God, I know he's beautiful, but you could at least attempt to use the brain between your ears when you think about your loved ones. Even just a little goes a long way, y'know.
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[He stares down at his drink. He never had to care for so many people in his life, and god it was so hard to balance all this.]
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[She's laughing, but really, how serious is she?
Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she rests against the back of the stool, crossing her legs and tilting her head to regard him with a most skeptical look as she gives him another once (or twice) over. She punctuates that look with a roll of her eyes and sips on her drink.
He doesn't get to win, but she does get to look. She gets it, Alfred, she does.]Anyway, I-- yeah. He's. Not been great, with the vampire thing. So... he has talked with you about what happened t'him back home?
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[Phil doesn't seem to mind the insult, as he lets out a short laugh himself.]
A little I probably should have asked him more about what he went through but I didn't want to pressure him, you know? The boy's really sensitive.
[Which Seras is... probably well aware of.]
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[Sarcastic, of course, but somehow she still sounds like she believes that could be true.]
No kidding.
[Sigh. She would never question the strength of Alfred's spirit, but he'd been broken down too many times for her to believe it was in one piece at this rate... Her mind flashes back to him whipping around the room in a mist, panicked out of his mind at the mention of her Master.]
He's... a little more fragile, these days, that's for sure. I can't blame you for not wanting to bother him about it. He's carrying a lot on his own... I'm sure he didn't tell you because he didn't want that weight on your shoulders.
[It was one of the many things about herself that she saw in Alfred, of course. Not wanting to burden others with your pain. She's even trying to do that now, fighting back the urge to dump all of her mess on this near-complete stranger.
Besides, this meeting is supposed to be about Alfred, not her.]
But I'd think, since he's your boyfriend, you could probably get away with it. ...Bothering him about his problems, I mean.
[She sips her drink again and stares off down the length of the bar, the amusement draining from her expression. It hurts to acknowledge such a thing, to put that thought into the air. It makes it real when you say it out loud. She lost her chance a long time ago, and she was too blind to see it.
But at least Alfred isn't alone, without her. That's what she should be happy about, right?]