vor | Fifth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[Almost two weeks spent in Malnosso captivity and what does Gregor have to show for it?

Lots and lots of band-aids, mostly. Also a minor cold that has turned into a chesty cough.

Instead of any great torture, drugs, or whatever he'd been expecting, the Malnosso mostly took DNA samples. Blood samples. Tissue samples. He's from further in Earth-universe's future than most besides Ivan, so maybe his specific point in human evolution was of interest. He understands the "lab rat" metaphor pretty well now. There hadn't been a lot of space in his cell, so he's a little stiff and sore. At least the hallucinations are gone. That had been the worst part--having to assure himself that this was a normal reaction to solitary confinement. He slowly heaves himself to his feet, blindly scrabbling for his journal. Writing is not easy with all his bandaged fingertips, so he speaks, sounding hoarse, slightly congested, and exhausted.]

Ivan. [A pause. ] Buffy. Adele. Whoever's...interested, this is Greg. I'm back. [He coughs a couple of times, fairly hard.] The Malnosso...anyway, I'm fine. It...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm heading home now. Did someone take care of my horse?

[He'll take about fifteen minutes to walk home from his spot in the woods.]

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...What?

[ deadpan: ] Earth joke. I promise that it would've been way funny if you were Canadian. Or maybe insulting.

So...about that soup? O-or your groats, if you wanna risk me trying to make them. Maybe.

Edited Date: 2012-08-01 11:25 pm (UTC)

I need to look in on General Alys first.

...Maybe later?

Yeah, just give me about an hour. [He coughs.] That-Idiot-Ivan didn't even realize I was gone. I guess there are drawbacks to owning a high-maintenance animal.

[Whether said high-maintenance animal is the horse or Ivan may be up for debate.]

...Not exactly the responsible type, is he?

On the contrary, he follows orders extremely well. There just has to be an order for him to follow.

A follower. [ not said as though it's a bad thing. it takes all kinds, after all. ] Well, hopefully there's no real damage.

Drop by House Seven when you're free?

Of course.

Take care, Greg! [ although she knows the full name, she prefers the nickname.

and otherwise? she'll be busy in the kitchen. be afraid. be very afraid. ]

[He's not, somehow.

He arrives looking a little pale and very malnourished. He's gotten all the band-aids off, at least. What a weird way to patch up a tiny wound.]

[ buffy answers the front door with what starts as a half-smile but soon devolves into a sardonic kind of grimace. ]

...Jeez. I'm guessing they didn't bring you in for the sun-bed treatment. Get in here. Make yourself at home.

[He coughs into his elbow as he enters.]

Thanks.

[He pauses in the entryway to wipe off his shoes. He so rarely leaves his flat, he's not even used to visiting tiny houses with no ceremony, so he just...does what she says. Walks into the living room and flings himself into the biggest chair, hooking a leg over one arm. Imperial privilege is hard to get over.]

[ perhaps buffy is a bad influence, then -- after all, she seems delighted by his ability to not be stuffy and self-effacing about this kind of thing. his readiness to take her offer and run with it is appreciated. ]

So, we didn't have, uhm, groats. But I have all this porridge that I've been trying to get rid of? No cream, but I made it with milk. And...

[ she disappears into her kitchen for a moment, fetching a tray with a bowl of porridge and a little dish of maple syrup -- to be poured at the emperor's leisure.

upon her return, and as she approaches the open-concept living room with her tray: ] And we're never low on maple syrup. Though I prefer the stuff on my waffles. Especially if someone else made them.

[ buffy summers likes to feed strays. ]

[Gregor coughs again and looks...oddly touched, at the sight of porridge and maple syrup. It gets a somewhat sad smile out of him, and a pang of real homesickness seizes his heart. He swallows.]

Thank you. Thank you very much.

[It's spoken both graciously and gracefully but very warmly. He reaches up to take the tray from her, placing both feet on the floor for balance.]

Edited Date: 2012-08-02 12:29 am (UTC)

[ she releases the tray into his care and sits back on the sofa across from him. ]

My pleasure. You know, my first kidnapping wasn't so long ago that I can't remember the distinct joy of getting back to good, tastebud-favoured food.

[ a soul deserves from tlc after being in the rogues' clutches for a while. ]

[He empties the dish of maple syrup over the porridge and delicately--almost artfully--begins to stir it in.]

I'm just glad the hallucinations stopped. I knew to expect them, it's just...

[It's all spoken in a sort of mutter. That kind of thing hits close to home nowadays.]

...They made you see things.

[ a frown. although she's had some terrible nabbings, she'd never experienced quite the same visions given to others. of course, she has had hallucinations here in the village.

recently, too.

drusilla. ]

Well. Expecting them or not, they still suck. Did they stick around after you were returned, at all?

[He glances up.]

No, it wasn't that. Just...typical solitary confinement hallucinations. And they were more...feeling things. And I'm not sure if I was hearing things, or if I was just hearing...other people.

[He looks a shade or two glummer than usual.]

Sometimes you can. Hear other people. Heck, sometimes you share cells. It's happened to me -- once.

But sometimes it's also better to believe you're imagining them.

[He nods, agreeing.] It just...some people must've had it bad. I think...I was so relieved when I found out this wasn't the Cetagandans, I didn't realize it could still--

[He puts the tray down and buries his forehead in his hands with a sigh.]

Greg, I...

[ she sits up a little straighter. ] You don't have to talk about it. Not if you don't want to. Not if it's too early.

[He knows. It's pretty much why he stopped. That, and emoting isn't really his specialty, let alone talking about his feelings. Talking at all. Buffy, he's more comfortable with than some. Than many. So she gets more out of him than 99.9% of Luceti's population. Or his social circle on any world. Out of necessity as much as anything.

No, this isn't emoting. This is the emperor collecting himself. Control has been drilled into him since his birth, after all. After about ten seconds, he releases another sigh and sits, up, reaching for the tray, composed again.]

It wasn't bad, not for me. They took a lot of blood and tissue samples.

Blood.

[ funny, how everything came back to it. it's always blood. spike's words had been ringing in her ears more often, lately. especially when she thinks about what had happened with the general. ]

You'll be taking it easy, then? For a while? A few days?