reconstruction | ETRAYA INBOX.

[ the first thing that comes to mind is an unhinged idiom, but she doesn't want to have to explain "like a dog with two tails". ]

Content. [ she says it with a french slant instead of english.

after a moment she plucks the mandolin from his arms and unfolds from the little couch, standing up and holding her hands out so he will take them. ]

Come with me, I want to show you something.

[most humans he interacts with are not what he would describe as 'content', but by the look of Willa's face he believes her. he thinks if that is also what he's feeling. he isn't sure if he's relaxed enough for that, or if he's capable of relaxing that much. his mind is always working, always on.

clothing shifts and the couch hardly makes a sound when she moves from her spot. he's left staring at her, maybe for a little too long, but that's only in his head. from her eyes to her hands to her eyes again, he (hesitatingly) takes her hands in his and stands up to follow her lead. humans usually hold hands when they care for someone. the Traci's he'd met held hands because they loved each other. his LED cycles yellow as he processes this development.]

Is there a reason you need to hold my hands to show me?

[for some reason, the second that question leaves his mouth he regrets asking at all and he doesn't know why. is this what she'd meant by feeling an emotion, not understanding it?

part of him just wants to know.]

[ she releases one hand but keeps the other. she was going to let him go entirely but not anymore! no, no she keeps hold of his hands. ]

Yes. The reason is I want to.

[ she's clearly leading him toward the house, pulling open the back door and leading him through the kitchen, into the hall, up the stairs. she's leading him to her bedroom (saucy) because that is where she moved all her precious things when she gave the kids free rein of the place. ]

I can offer you three ways to hold hands if you want variety.

Oh.

[he's only left with more questions, but like a lost dog, follows alongside her. he has to adjust his pace - she's shorter, he's used to taking longer strides - and her offer has him looking down at her. the image of them is so human; this is the first time he's held someone's hand. he's well aware of the ways to hold hands, this is just -

new. but his expression gives nothing away. instead, he adjusts his hand to interlace their fingers, pressing his own gently into the back of her hand.]

I think this way is usually more comfortable for both parties.

I think you're right.

[ it needs no more comment. it's very comfortable, his big hand is warm in her smaller hand, her own fingers barely reach his knuckles. she lapses into quiet before she reaches her room, opening the door and leading connor inside. the walls are pale blue, the canopy bed is wreathed with diaphanous white curtains spread wide to reveal a neatly made bed with white linens with blue and green flowers, a blanket that looks impossible soft and warm tossed across it. the wood furnishings, a side table, a dresser, a vanity with a mirror, a bookshelf, are all a honey wood finish. there's also a 1950s style cabinet against one wall that she leads him over to, opening the top to reveal a record player.

now she releases his hand to crouch down and paw through her records until she finds one and slips the record free of the sleeve, setting it on the turntable, and moving the arm with practiced ease to the third song, setting back as the music starts to play. ]

Edited 2024-10-04 02:04 (UTC)

[bedrooms will always feel a little different for Connor. they tell so much about someone - they're intimate, but not the same kind of intimate as holding hands is. he's discovering now that intimacy, in general, has many layers. he analyzes all of the little details; the colors used, the way she's arranged her items, but more importantly, what items are there. the room itself is filled with femininity, something he hasn't encountered much around Etraya.

the record player is one thing he can say he's seen before. Hank kept one in his home, by the tv. he's a silent observer, but he does wander once her hand leaves his. from running his hand along the cabinet and even stopping in front of the mirror to look at himself. he reaches up to fix his hair, adjusts his tie.

his movements mimic someone checking themselves out. when the music starts, he looks to the record player, then to Willa-- he's able to recognize it;]

This is ABBA's Nina Ballerina.

[o b v i o u s l y]

Do you like listening to older music? ['older' because he's from 2038 and this is literally over 60 years old, but. well. time is different here.]

I like listening to anything. Jazz is my favorite, but I do really like ABBA. [ logan teased her about listening to old music too and her smile grows warm with her habit of collecting emotional unavailable men who make her smile regardless.

she leans back against the cabinet, watching connor. ]

I think Nina Ballerina is incredibly underrated.

[ she pats the cabinet softly so she won't make the record skip. ]

You're welcome to listen whenever you feel like it. They kids aren't allowed to touch it though. That's the second of my two rules and it was more relevant when it was still downstairs.

[another smile plays on his lips while he recalls memories from home.]

My friend Hank liked jazz, too.

[not that it played while he visited -- and they weren't visits, really -- but the records were there. he wonders if he'll ever be able to see him again, or have the opportunity to visit as a friend would.]

I'd like to. [a beat] And for the record, I am enjoying Nina Ballerina. [he thinks, anyway. he likes the music, likes that Willa took him here to show him, likes that she's spending time with him without asking anything of him.] Music is not something I was designed to enjoy as such, but I've found the energy to be ... interesting. I can understand why people listen to it.

[he might get science-y or explain the psychology of it at some point.]

ETRAYA INBOX.

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