catphishing | IC Contact [futurology]

[The sixth person, Mettaton knocks on the door of. He waits, patiently, hands behind his back and kitten on his shoulder (unlike the others, he figures Ollie wants to say goodbye to more than just Mettaton), for the door to open.

When it does, he beams. It's bittersweet -- it always will be. But maybe some goodbyes are for the better.]

Mornin', Ollie-darling. [It's 5 in the afternoon.] Got a second?

[It takes a minute or so for Oliver to open up the door to him. It's an unexpected visit, though Oliver's not too surprised to see him. Friends can drop in on friends after all.

He smiles, scratching the kitten momentarily behind the ear. The adoring "hey, gorgeous!" he coos before he steps aside to let Mettaton in is presumably aimed at her more than him.]

I think we're a little past morning.

[On the dresser is the reason for his delay. A small, partially constructed robot lies there. He'd been working on fixing a particularly fiddly wire when he heard the knock.]

[It's obviously aimed at him. He chuckles, tossing his hair over his shoulder, and purposefully struts in like he's on a catwalk.

Gorgeous. Ugh, he knows.

Anyway.

Dropping the supermodel stance, Mettaton takes in Oliver's room one last time. It looks the same as anyone else's, but there's... a feeling behind it. Despite the menagerie of friends and fans he's made along the way, Oliver was the only one to really invite him into his "home", as it were. There's a fondness to these walls that brings to mind melted milkshakes and misguided factory workers stripping for their children (not like that). He sighs and puts a hand on Annie's squirming body, stilling her from her obvious intent to leap off of his shoulder and onto the bed.

Mmm? What's this on the dresser?]

Not thinking of building a better me, are we?

Let her on the bed. It's fine.

[It will give him easier access to pet her from there. Unless, of course, she disappears under it again.

As for the robot... it's nothing as impressive as Mettaton, but he looks pretty proud despite the dismissive way he waves his hand.]

Just basic AI. I hope. It's experimental so I don't know how it'll turn out.

[He's nervous, but excited. If it works as he intends it's a big deal. If not to anyone else then to him.]

Hopefully well, [he says, still mulling over that first statement. Let her go...? But. But he is so tall, and her paw are so little. What if she hurts them? What if she springs off the bed and into the abyss? Keats is already attached to her - Mettaton can't let her bounce into an unfortunate accident.

...sigh. With a sad sort of reluctance, Mettaton lets her down, gently, onto one of Oliver's pillow. Like a burst of wind, she immediately flies into the sheets and tangles herself underneath them, pouncing nothing recklessly like some sort of hyperactive ghost doing their first possession.

Mettaton takes a seat next to her, watching her go. He crosses one leg over the other. Drums the fingers of his free hand on his knee.

No matter how many of these he does, it's always hard to just come out with it.

Finally, he holds out the item he'd been hiding behind his back. It's a wireless microphone, signed with Mettaton's signature in silver ink.]

I wanted to give you something.

[His poor covers... Mettaton really needs to start teaching her how to behave.

He would like to play with her, but Mettaton has clearly come by with something in mind. He smiles uncertainly as he takes the spot next to him, being mindful not to sit on the wriggling lump worming around in his sheets. Mettaton seems... maybe not nervous, but definitely lacking his usual confidence.]

You did?

[Is it rude to ask someone if they're okay when they're giving you a gift? He takes the microphone from his hands, grinning as he sees the signature on there. Trust Mettaton to autograph his gifts.]

Wow. Thanks. Did you get a record deal or something?

["Wow, thanks." Just like Peridot always says it. Is that really the correct way to give thanks for gifts? It's not just her? He might have to remember that...]

Or something. [Nod. Smile. Pluck at the sheets.

...]

I'm transferring. [There it is.] No need to throw me a celebratory going-away bash to sing the praises of all my accomplishments, [he chuckles and winks, immediately moving into a joke before the news can really sink in,] your friendship was thanks enough.

[Oliver clearly doesn't find it humorous. The flat, but amused grin at receiving the signed microphone disappears abruptly, replaced by a wide eyed, wounded expression.]

Wait, why?

[He sets the microphone down beside him, only for little Annie to decide it looks like an exciting toy. He hastily picks it up again, not wanting his parting gift to be damaged already.]

Do you have to? I thought you liked it here.

Of course I do, [he sighs, patient smile still on as he snatches up Annie from her attempt at following after Ollie's present. He places her in his lap, where she latches onto his hand with teeth and claws and little bunny-kicks.] It's not as if I'm going home. I'm just...

[Helpless shrug. He reaches for Oliver's hand to squeeze it comfortingly. Mettaton's always been touchy-feely, it shouldn't be a surprise.] You learn a lot about yourself here. I learned that I'm a better bard than a rogue, or whatever way you want to put it. I fight the blues, not people.

Really. You saw what happened to this face after taking only one hit. It's better for everyone to have me in the background instead of center-stage. At least, [another wink. Come on, cheer up, sweetheart...] metaphorically.

[He grasps his hand tightly, inching closer. He's not typically as physical as Mettaton, but now he's clinging to his hand like it's a lifeline. Aside from Connor, Mettaton's the person here who knows him best, and his relationship with him is infinitely more stable.]

I'm not good at fighting people either. There are other ways to be useful. Like-- you have really good ideas, and you bring people together. That's important.

[He doesn't outright say it, but the implication is clear; he wants him to stay.]

Sweetheart...

[Every one of these goodbyes has been like trying to leave the Underground all over again. His core crushes in on itself with every plea, every "why". You always seem to learn how much you mean to people when they know they're about to lose you.

Ha... He promised himself he wouldn't cry this time. Obviously, he owes himself 50G later, because that's a bet he's lost.] Thank you, Oliver. It means a lot, it does. [More than Oliver can ever know.] But Audentes doesn't need me. Other people do. People who need an idol, or the kindness to solve a problem without murdering half a ship.

... [Sigh. Of all people, Oliver deserves a little more openness. He squeezes the other's hand just a little bit tighter.] The truth is... I realized how. Awful being surrounded by that negativity made me. I started fights just to get people mad, I burned bridges, I endangered everyone from home-- I tried to assassinate two people. Me. [He kicks out a leg, jostling Annie from her playing and letting his purple thigh-high boots shine in the light.] This guy. That's how bad things got.

Consider it a vacation, alright? I'm running off with my grouchy lover to cheer up the desolate and report on... beaches, or something. This team can do without a silly little robot and a 3rd rate hack for a little bit.

[He raises their linked hands and nudges Oliver in the chest with them, smiling. He's still crying.] Eh?

[Selfishly, he wants to argue. To tell him that he needs him too, but Mettaton's tears are what deter him. It sets him off too, but if he's that miserable who is he to tell him he shouldn't try something that might make him happier?

He prises their hands apart, but only so he can pull him into a hug. Annie wriggles out from the space between them with a grumble, and Oliver holds him tighter.]

I'm going to miss you.

[He's going to get his shoulder wet, but he can't do this without crying. This is his friend, and he might not get to see him again.]

[Oh no, now Oliver's crying too. This is a mess. This is a complete disaster. Mettaton laughs and sniffles into the hug, tightly squeezing his arms around his most... soft of friends.

He wants to say something smart. "I know." "Who wouldn't?" "I'll write you."

Instead, between breathless, broken-hearted chuckle... The song is sappy, and possibly mediocre, but it's applicable. And so Mettaton sings.]

I've heard it said
that people come into our lives
for a reason
bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those
that help us most grow
if we let them
and we help them in return

Well I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
because I knew you

[Oliver's shoulders are shaking slightly. Which... is surprisingly not because of his tears. He's laughing now. He shouldn't, but he can't quite help himself. His fingers tighten in the back of Mettaton's shirt, and his tone his apologetic, hoping his reaction hasn't made him feel like he should stop or pull away.]

I'm sorry. I can't believe you're singing to me right now.

[This seems to becoming a pattern when people say goodbye to him.]

[It's not the intent, but pull away Mettaton does. Not because he's offended, no, and not to be hurtful - it's to rest his forehead against his friend's, to hold his face in his hands and laugh along with him.]

Like a comet pulled from orbit
as it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
halfway through the wood
Who can say
if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

[One more dramatic sigh, for the road. Gently, he presses his lips against Ollie's cheek before finally pulling away.] I'll miss you too, darling. [As if on cue, mischievous rattling sets off under the bed.] Haha... And so will Annie.

...So. Any last pressing interview questions you'd like some answers to before I go?

[Oliver sings reluctantly along, still wishing he could convince him to stay here, on this team. He feels empty as he pulls away from him. His tears have slowed, but they're on the verge of starting up again.

Until Annie hurls herself bodily off the bed and back underneath it. That makes him laugh instead.]

I don't know. I wasn't expecting this. [There were so many things he'd wanted to learn about Mettaton. Both about who he is, and what he is, but now isn't the time to ask them.] Will you ever be back?

Do you honestly think ALASTAIR will be able to announce a party and NOT have me there? Of course I'll visit. [Ugh, he can't help it. He needs another hug. Even through the tears. Even through tiny kitten feet running across the floor and over his toes.]

I'm an idol, darling. You can't keep me away forever. You know I'm going to write you, don't you?

[That's genuinely reassuring. He hugs him tightly, offering him a watery smile once he pulls back. It's a little pained still, but that might because Annie is clawing her way clumsily up his leg, tiny needle like claws digging into his leg.]

Thank you. I'll send you pics if I ever get my robot working.

[It's not the same as if he'd got to see it in person, but it's better than nothing. He sighs, detaching Annie's little paws from where they're grappling with his hand.]

...I wanted you to see it.

Sweetheart...

Don't think I'll come back myself if you name it after me. That's what my lawyer is for. [He nudges Ollie's shoulder with a wink. He's playing. Of course he would have wanted to see it in person. It's just...

This really is for the better. For everyone.

But speaking of playing.

Out comes a little toy mouse on a string. Mettaton places it in Oliver's palm (where was he keeping it??) and nods his head toward the little troublemaker currently demanding attention in the man's lap.

Go ahead.]

[He takes the mouse by its string, dangling it for the eager kitten who wastes no time viciously devouring her prey

...or wrapping herself around it while kicking it with enthusiasm anyway.]

Don't worry, you're safe. I was going to call it Spyder. Because it's going to have a camera. And it's going to have legs like a spider...

[That's funny, right?]

[Look at her. She's a beast. She's fearless. She rolls around the sheets and onto her paws, arching her back to make herself bigger and hopping in the mouse's direction in a very unintimidating manner.

He loves her. If anything came from this experience, at least it involved getting a cat.]

Mmm. Spyder. It has its charms, yes, but it sounds like a sort of electronic toy you'd see advertised on a children's network. [Something "dark" and "edgy" for the children who were violently opposed to anything light and fun.] Have you considered...

[...

Huh.]

...actually, I'm drawing a blank. Spyder it is.

[His face falls at Mettaton's assessment of the name. Is it really that bad? Annie seems to hold no such opinion, but she's also a cat.]

I could think of something else.

[But what? He'd been so proud of the name, and nothing else he'd come up with had sounded that good.]

I'll figure something out. I can tell you the real name when I write you.

Darling, you could name it "Brian" and it'll never take away how special it is. YOU'RE making it! It's already a gift to the world!!

[He laughs. This goodbye isn't any less sad, no, but... But he knows that staying would be worse. There are other people out there who could use his support. Being alone, with Keats to help... There's less chance of him succumbing to that awful head-space he was in for so long. Being away from this team...]

You'll remember to keep your head up without me here to remind you, won't you? And form a gameplan on what you're doing with Connor?

I'll be fine.

[He smiles despite how little he wants this goodbye. He'll miss having Mettaton to turn to, to spend time with, but he doesn't need him. He doesn't deserve to go away feeling like he's leaving behind someone who does.]

We're... [Well. It's hard to say what's going on with Connor. He wants to believe they're working towards a relationship again, but they haven't talked about it yet. The last mission hadn't been the right place for it, and now... now they probably should, but it's intimidating having to start that conversation, not being certain that they won't lose what they have got back.] We're working on it. Connor's a good man. We'll figure things out.

IC Contact [futurology]

action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject