Anti-OTP: Hamlet/Guil

[pipe_player]

Guildenstern slouches moodily in a chair, tapping his fingers irritably on the edge of the armrest. To a less experienced person, he would look angry at something, discontent with the state of the world. But those who know him better can tell easily that it's just another day for him, just another convoluted thread of logic he tries to hold the

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[thanitohercules]

Hamlet can either tell this or does not particularly care; most likely it is the latter, for it is a sort of night where he has lost hold of a bit of himself (the sort of night that is most nights, or so those that know him well would tell you). And so he is standing behind Guildenstern, wondering not what it is on the other man's mind, but rather what will get the most reaction, not that he's sure what sort of reaction he's intending, or why.

Reaching out, Hamlet very lightly runs his fingertips down the back of Guildenstern's neck.

[pipe_player]

If the odd silence that practically radiated from the Prince of Denmark behind him wasn't evidence enough that there was madness in the air, the fingers certainly prove it beyond doubt.

He flinches instinctively -- he feels it's going to be a long night -- and shifts away the slightest bit.

[thanitohercules]

Certainly, a man not speaking to anyone is no madder than a man speaking sense to himself, or nonsense not to himself-- or just as mad. Or just as mad.

As quickly as they had been there, the fingers are gone. As a replacement, however, Hamlet rests one elbow on Guildenstern's shoulder, then his chin on his hand; his small smile is secretive and just the slightest bit wild. "How farest thou?" he asks clearly, as though they had not been silent like this, at a statemate, for quite some time.

Typist: ...ignore me, jigga, plz.

[pipe_player]

At some point in time, his fingers have stopped their mindless drumming.

"--Well, my lord. Quite well." He doesn't know why he doesn't continue. It helps take his mind off madmen. "And for you, how is the world?"