Hallo.

[singulartragedy]

Hello. M'name's Adrian Singleton, and . . . and I think I know some people here, but I don't know if they want to know me here, so I won't say who they are. Wouldn't want to cause trouble for them, you know. Friends of mine, always took good care of me, and . . . and I've needed a fair bit of taking care of, so that's something

Comments

[eagle_of_words]

Hullo, there. You might fancy staying with me and mine for a bit: we're good if you want to get steady again, and good if you're trying to get unsteadier.

[singulartragedy]

Uh. Thank you. I think. I think that might be good. Maybe.

Which ones are yours? 've got to be careful, see, or I'll upset Dorian. I don't like when he's upset.

[eagle_of_words]

*laughs* I think it's good, but I really couldn't tell you, my dear sir.

We're the very noisy ones who sometimes go about kissing everyone, although I fear I can't engage particularly heedlessly in that activity, since I'm taken already. You can call us the Roaches.

Unless you mean my headmates. *grins* But you don't want to know them. They're eighteen kinds of too damn loud, and half of them are completely mad.

[singulartragedy]

Well, it can't be worse. I hope.

Oh. *wibble* I don't think he likes them much.

[eagle_of_words]

No, I don't fancy it could be worse.

Well, I don't think he minds me, except that everyone minds me because I'm offencive merely by existing. *another grin* But honestly, I've never even met him, unlike the rest of my company. So perhaps he won't object to me.

[singulartragedy]

I don't mind you. Not yet, anyhow. You seem nice enough . . . and I think it's mostly that Grantaire fellow, anyhow. Well. He'll tell me if he doesn't like it, I think, so I won't worry. Much.

[eagle_of_words]

I'm flattered. Oh! That Grantaire fellow! Yes, my poor winecask would be far and away enough to earn anybody's disapproval.

All right. *raises his eyebrows slightly*

[singulartragedy]

I'm still awfully confused about why I'm not supposed to talk to him, but I'm confused about a lot of things.

So. Why was it you said . . . you said . . . *rereads* that you were offensive just by existing? What's so offensive 'bout you, anyhow?

[eagle_of_words]

That's quite all right. Most of us are.

Well, it's rather a terrible thing. It's a sort of dark family secret, you see, of my parents'--that their eldest son, the one who was supposed to become a famous doctor; or a brilliant scientist; or an artist with brushstrokes so tiny they'd never be visible, and all the critics would be fascinated and repelled at once, causing them to praise me above all else at the same time that they were denouncing me for a madman, so that the public would adore me and I'd be simply up to here in loose cash--well. I failed them. I can't do a single one of those things, because of my... disability. Crying shame, but I'm no good for anything these days. I have to sponge off my friends, and rely upon the charity of kind strangers, and all that rot. Truly awful.

[singulartragedy]

Right, then. Glad 'm not the only one.

Oh. Oh, well, that's not so bad. I'm a disappointment, myself. *faint smile* 'm disowned and everything now!

[eagle_of_words]

*yawns cheerfully* Disowned! Why, you've earned my eternal respect for that! I never managed to be disowned, I'm afraid. Congratulations! *friendly shoulder pat*