The Awful Truth? [OPEN ]

[de_bel_survivor]

WHO: EVERYONE
WHAT: Chatting in the aslyum, but with that pesky 'tell no lie' thing in the way.
WHERE: Anywhere.
WHEN: The entire week the event's taking place in.
WARNING(S): Possible swearing from the usual suspects 8| and moderately Freudian psychoanalysis

Comments

[thecutrperidot]

Her brows begin to furrow as they continue this tangential conversation. His deflective behavior shows fascinating patterns; in future, she'll have to find out whether this is his standard reaction to self-reflection, or if the behavior is exaggerated in the context of knowing that there's nothing he can avoid addressing. "It's one of the most common. Besides, I've made a name for myself in my profession, so it would be too late to change it now. And--how was I supposed to know that? For all I knew you were always the same physical age and--"

When it becomes clear what's really on his mind, she moves back against the wall, as far away as she can get while still sitting down. "What are you implying?! Absolutely not! My sexual interest in you is--" She swallows and turns scarlet. Goddamn truth serum. But there is no truth that she cannot work around with enough effort. "The work of Freud has demonstrated a significant link between societally reinforced repression and psychological problems, which in your case I find particularly appropriate given your absolutely shocking promiscuity. It's a subject on which many patients are reticent, so I desired to address it while the current experiment was in place. That's all there is to it." Really, this is ridiculous and she is not going to stand for it. Things like this only happen when doctors are to act as patients and patients are convinced they're not supposed to receive treatment! In his case, due to aforementioned promiscuity, this manifests itself as, well, absolutely shocking promiscuity. If he keeps this up she really is going to slap him. Her Hippocratic Oath has been violated enough times by the nature of this place anyway. This is all Linda's fault.

[gewehrundblut]

For the most part, it is his standard practise when faced with self-reflection and having to talk honestly. Though, to be entirely fair, he is highly overdoing the response because otherwise he has to be truthful. "Ah, if you say so. And you could've asked. I mean, fuck, I may never have been a baby, but I did have a childhood. Not that you'd consider fighting wars to be much of one, I'm sure."

Her reaction makes him laugh in his usual harsh manner. "Ah, you should try something else. I'm fairly open about sex." There are a few specific questions she should ask now, otherwise he may never answer, but he is still being truthful. He didn't say he was wholly open. "And what's wrong with sharing the awesome?" He sees nothing wrong with promiscuity; not when some of his bosses have openly had mistresses.

[thecutrperidot]

"Oh, don't be so sure. I'm still working out just what to think about what constitutes pathological behavior in your kind. The subject is so terribly under-researched and Linda certainly hasn't helped out what with the lack of sufficient case history." Really, it's a terrible lapse for her to not even include whichever historical ages correspond to what physical ages. Such a waste of time having to find these things out from the patients, especially when he probably can't even remember exactly how many years it was anymore.

She clicks her tongue. "I'm really not sure exactly what extent to which it might be healthy. Other nations don't seem to have as liberal an attitude on the subject as you do, which I find odd - examining your behavior closely, I had assumed the others would be equally polyamorous given the nature of international relations. Though that doesn't really explain being at least as promiscuous, if not more so, with humans..." Her smile gradually returns as she regains control of the situation in spite of his previous indiscretion. Prussia will have to navigate his next few words like a minefield; she is going to be examining his every reaction very carefully.

[gewehrundblut]

"The subject will probably remain under-researched. There aren't a lot of us and we don't grow at the same rates. Take Italy, for example. They're both a good thousand or so years my senior, but I was an adult physically well before they were." He flops over onto his back, drumming his fingers against his stomach as he thinks. He actually does remember precise years, but that's because of his journalling more than anything. Though it also doesn't hurt that he's not yet counting his age in millenia.

"You've never met France, then," he deadpans. "Seriously, though. International relations have nothing to do with it. I mean, there was a time when the frog was politically one of my closest allies, but I just wanted to smash his skull in because Fritz was all about French culture. Food, literature, philosophy, even music. He said the sound of a horse neighing was more pleasant than that of someone singing in German; can you believe that?" The laughter following that is more the kind designed to hide upset than genuine incredulosity. "Ah... but as far as being with humans so much... well. There are millions of you. More variety, no strings attached."

[thecutrperidot]

"Hmmmm, yes, Italy. What a strange case. I wish there was some undergraduate around I could send off to research them - they're so disinteresting compared to you, but that's research that absolutely has to be done. Shame that I'd find it almost impossible to drag off either of the specimens we have here." She finds the Vargases almost boring in their textbook inferiority complexes and whatnot. It'd almost be better in her mind for Romana and Feliciano to never become permanent additions.

It would be nice for her to meet France, perhaps. In her estimation his nation seemed to be a relatively well-adjusted one, but maybe she's wrong from what Prussia's saying. That's not the point, however. The point is Fritz, better known as the potential icing on the cake. "Ah, that was such a terrible thing for him to say. You must have been terribly jealous." Her excitement makes her lean in, borderline involuntarily. "That he had so much of Your Beloved's Affection." She mockingly capitalizes each word that he would with a sharp tap of her pen. This is just. This makes all three months of complete and utter desolation completely worth it. He's probably seen a smile like this before, on himself and certain other soldiers. It really should accompany blood dripping off of her teeth, but she's more hygienic then that.

[gewehrundblut]

Oh, never mind all that she just said about the Italies, or really any other words that came out of her mouth. He's utterly fixated on that last mocking sentence, what it reveals about everything she's figured out. It's his turn to bolt; sitting straight up and moving as far from her as he can get without falling off the couch. "I... y-you... it was..." He stamners, half-formed German spilling out, because he can't think of how to talk around that truth. "Shut the fuck up! Like you know a Goddamned thing!"

[thecutrperidot]

She wishes more than ever that this stupid asylum had a calendar, because without a good method of putting the dates into context she's completely convinced that this must be her birthday and Christmas all at once, which it absolutely can't be. If it weren't for how she's writing frantically, she would clap her hands for joy. "Am I right? Were you really in love with him?" ...she isn't completely in the loop with this. He still has a chance to hide the whole truth of the matter from her, though it will be very difficult what with the extent of the influence the truth serum has on them by now.

[gewehrundblut]

"I... ja. Genau. I was in love with him..." Restraining everything else that wants to spill forth, about how they were together and he didn't so much as glance at anyone else in that way and it almost killed him when Fritz died except he couldn't die; keeping that back is the most difficukt thing he feels he's ever done. Except he does, with a hand over his mouth and the most distraught look he cab form on his face. Oh, he'll even let a tear roll down his cheek, if it will help misdirect her.

[thecutrperidot]

That tear is helpful in stirring a little of her sympathy, but his hopes are pinned far too high if he thinks crying will actually dissuade her entirely. It's already been made clear that she has hardly any respect for anyone's privacy. Still, she reverently sets down her pen for the moment, to better listen, and there's significantly less of a sharp edge on her voice when her questioning picks up again. "Did... did he feel the same way?" She's worked with truth serum before; she knows that it'll be very difficult for him to keep quiet much longer.

[gewehrundblut]

...Damn it. Damn it damnit DAMN IT. He watches her warily, though his expression is more akin to that of the rabbit trapped by the hound than that of the hound. Which is not a position he likes being in. Ever. "I... he... I don't... it doesn't matter. He left me anyways, and I know you guys die within a century and there's nothing to be done for it but I didn't want him to go." Here, have some other issues. Take them and drop the love thing, please.

[thecutrperidot]

Yes, Prussia, that metaphor is exactly right. She is the hound and she very much enjoys this position. Although her more favored arrangement is more... mutualistic. As much fun as the act of teasing every single piece of information out of him is, it's so inefficient. Her voice gets almost genuinely gentle with sympathy, but there's still a thin steely spine of psychiatric inquiry at the core. "I'd say the distinction is an important one. ...if you... if you weren't sure, I understand..." She feels slight guilt about that. It's a little bit mean. Well, she's done worse before, but he is playing upon her natural empathy. She wouldn't work in this field if she didn't have a certain amount of it - though admittedly she wouldn't work here if there weren't certain restrictions on its extent.

[gewehrundblut]

"I don't see how it matters any." He curls, drawing knees to his chest and dropping his head forwards. "I think it's obvious how he felt." Of course, obvious based on his knowledge and based on what he's shared can lead two two different conclusions. So really, it's not obvious at all to anyone except Gilbert himself. Who is beginning to literally bite his tongue to keep from spilling the whole truth. The need to speak is almost painful, but he's not telling her everything. He doesn't want to, for fuck's sake!

[thecutrperidot]

"It matters to me." Though again there's still an attempt at getting across that sympathy - because it really does matter to her, otherwise she wouldn't be able to say it - she's a hound, she's not going to let this go. He's clearly very, very intent to keep the extent of whatever this was secret, which means that she just has to keep on pushing until he spills. His resistance to the drug is absolutely remarkable, she really must examine what effect other psychoactive substances have on him sometime. Just how much longer can he keep this up? There's only so long he can possibly last, right? Although this could be a nation thing... no, Linda would have taken care of that. Should have, anyway. She can never make absolute statements about Linda anymore.

[gewehrundblut]

"Why? So you can just pick apart my feelings like they're a poorly deboned fish?" He scoffs quietly at the idea she could possibly genuinely care about the truth of the matter beyond being an interesting little fact to analyse until it's reduced to a list of possible neuroses. Once he's said this, he rests forehead on knees once more, not making a noise as his teeth finally bite through his tongue. Not. Talking.

[thecutrperidot]

"...when you put it like that..." Well, yes, that is precisely the fashion in which she cares about the matter. But for a concern of that nature, it's - it's very deep and... how can she make him understand? For several moments she intently looks at him, how he's so determined to keep quiet. Why does she...? She wants to help him, why haven't any of the patients made peace with that? Ah, there we are. The words finally come to her: "Not quite. So I can help you finally come to terms with it."

[gewehrundblut]

"There's nothing to come to terms with! I know how he felt, and he's dead anyways!" Please ignore the slow trickle of blood from his mouth from his bitten tongue. He doesn't want help; doesn't think he needs help. Not with this. This doesn't have anything to do with why he agreed to this psychoanalysis thing, and it's enough to make him push off of the couch and head for the door. "Es ist egal!"

He hits the doorframe hard, fist clenched tightly. Were he not wearing gloves, his fingernails would likely be digging into his palm, but as it is, he's not bleeding from anywhere else as a result of fighting the urge to speak freely. "I'm not talking about this."