kingdomsofrain | tfln open post

[ For her own part, Katrina can find no other sense but that he doesn't want her interference with the study.

That this abrupt change of conversation from her effort to offer him friendship once more is a slap away, a refusal to discuss it further.

He doesn't want her company. He wants to complain about the study.

Well. ]

Redecorate it as you see fit, then. ~~Burn it down if you like~~

I'll [...] communicate with Wallace about the particulars. So you needn't trouble yourself.

No I

SAID thank you' I

Ostinate woman!

[ ... ]

~~WALLACE is SLEEPING!~~

No. HAVE your rug i don't want it!!

[ He means to delete that last line, too.

He manages to send it, instead. ]

[ Treavor chokes a panicked sound, tries to catch the text as it sends - one hand swiping helplessly toward the phone, kneeing jarring upward as if to somehow help - then scrambles to send a follow-up, anything, anything at all—! ]

yYou didin't know abohut the
daylight
I

[ Something. Something? What is he supposed to—? ]

Everybody knowsb your' not
YOU are not
NOT good!

THey TELL me!

[ None of this makes sense.

His messages come rapidly, disjointed and mostly-incoherent, save for the first. She tries to imagine what he might be doing -

Texting with one hand while drinking with the other?

No, they're far too fast.

So, in haste because he's...

...Panicking?

Is he panicking?

She can't imagine what might have him worried, however. She...Oh, none of this makes sense.

(You are not NOT good? Or does he mean emphasis on the 'not'? Or is she only succumbing to wishful thinking, reading sense in drunken ramblings?) ]

Treavor, I truly am only trying to do as you like.

Take the rug, leave the rug. Avoid me, don't avoid me. Please, I only want [...]

[...]

It's late, and you are clearly ill at ease.

Would you like to retire for the night? Shall I fetch Wallace for you?

II don't LIKE anything.

[ Just ask anyone. Anyone who knows him. All those familiar bastards far off in Manhattan. They all know. ]

I am always I am ill. Ha.

[ Everybody knows that, too! ]

Well you must know this.

no no we have etsablished Wallace is asleep already!

hM no matter

i am already also asleeping.

no wonders.

alrea dy don

You [...]

[ I don't like anything, he said.

She never realized -

Yes, certainly, she comprehended his hatred for his situation, and his aversion to this place.

But it never occurred to her that he might not like her.

Now that the thought is in her head, she can't escape it. Past encounters rearrange themselves from cold courtesy to outright disdain. ]

[...]

Do you dislike me, Treavor?

[ But if he does, why does he text her?

...If he doesn't, why does he avoid her?

Oh. ]

[ What?

He?

....What?

He doesn't like the flicker of worry. Prefers the impulse to snort, as if it were a joke. It isn't. He didn't. Why shouldn't she...? ]

Are you a THING??

Ithink not.

non appliable.

Oh - I see.

Of course, it wouldn't apply.

[ Still.

Well. Perhaps she shouldn't pester him with this particular nagging fear. This discomfort that remains in spite of his limited assurance.

...But what if he dislikes her? What if he has, all along? She fidgets, playing with her nails, plucking at her dress.

It bothers her that it bothers her. Why should she care if he dislikes her? In a handful of years, when this feud with the Van Brunts is forgotten, he'll go away, and never think on her or this miserable marriage again.

Several minutes go by before she adds: ]

Anyhow, you hardly know me. How could you possibly know whether you like me or not?

[...]

I suppose it wouldn't matter if it did apply.

[ That worried flicker again, sharper now, burning at his lungs and leaving him resentful, leaving him annoyed, leaving him, well, yes, afraid. Something, something is happening, she's— she's making something happen, and he can't tell what to make of this or why it's drawn him into worry, the details fuzz at every edge.

What does it matter, that... something... it?... doesn't matter?

Fuck's sake, he can't muddle through all this.

He tries, and he tries, and then in a moment's stroke of genius, sends— ]

Please im' SLEEPING.

[ This ought to strike her as funny. Childish, but charming in its way.

Instead, it aggravates her: this sudden concern for whether he might like her, his drunkenness, his avoidance of her, and now these absurd messages. She knows she ought to let it be, and maintain her course of kindness with him.

It isn't fair to be angry with drunk men.

But it isn't fair that he never speaks to her otherwise, is it? ]

Very well. Sleep, then.

[...]

I hardly care.

No, wait. I -

[...]

You're being difficult.

No, , IM being TIRED

SLEP!

I didnt say

YOU ARE

[ ... ]

[ ... ]

Yes of corse I am.

[...]

[...]

~~Why? What have I done to~~

~~It causes me to believe you do dislike me~~

~~Why do you insist on messaging me~~

I'll see to the rug tomorrow. Sleep where and as you like. Goodnight.

The rug isn' noT the point.

The RUG.

nO tell me how diffficlut!

I wold fcare to know!

[...]

You refuse to speak with me by daylight. You ignore me.

And then you demand my attention when I am tired, and only want peace at the end of the day.

[...]

If you detest me so, let me be. I won't trouble you.

If you don't, then speak kindly to me - as I do to you.

But I won't have this, no matter how much wine you've drunk. I've done nothing to earn it from you. You'll get no further answer from me to such contentiousness.

Well isn't t this justt convenitn??

iI don't think YOU shoud be so

[ ... ]

~~Please,, I~~

[ ... ]

you don't hav to?

No, youre

Yes.

good Night,,.

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