vor | Eighth Cream Cake: [Written/Action/Voice] FORWARD-DATED to the 9th

[A week of research was a questionable coping mechanism. It succeeded in keeping him from having to talk to anyone. Also, in keeping him busy. However, a week buried in information brings on a loneliness that makes unchecked depression go rampant.

That's the worst part about it, sometimes. Being so utterly incapable of breaking the ice, of visiting someone and drudging up polite conversation and leaving that loneliness behind. He can't conjure the energy to visit anyone or ask for a visit, but everything is so much worse when he's lonely. Walking that circle is worse than rummaging through page after page of data, wanting to find and yet terrified of finding. He hated it alone in the research rooms, but feared going back to the same cycle, the same circle, as before.

When he comes back, he puts off going back to the flat for as long as possible. He sees to the horses at the stable, introducing the new mare to the others. Horses don't require conversation, but they provide companionship. Gregor is faintly disturbed by that thought, as if working with the horses might be more harmful than therapeutic. He finds himself clutching Babushka's mane in both fists, his face buried in her shoulder, heart pounding with the sudden, dizzy speculation that the one thing that makes him feel happy in this place is poisoned by his own weakness. No. No, no, no, he's not about to start thinking that way. Working with the horses means working with the hands, and that's human interaction. He enjoys that part. There's a premise to it, nothing forced. It's okay. He's being ridiculous about this. Gradually, he releases Babushka's mane. Her placid temperament helps. It's as if she barely noticed.

He should go home and take a shower, but instead he sits in the stable and sends a written message out, filtering it only lazily since it's nothing important.]

[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, Buffy Summers, Adele LeBlanc, and everyone who works at the stable or takes lessons - 35% unhackable]

I've come back.
--GVB

[/Filtered.]

[Then, it's anything he can do to keep from going back to that apartment. He knows once he's there, he'll nest in his safe little area and be completely trapped, alone with his own thoughts. So he plunks himself into the coffee shop with a cup of coffee and a cream cake he brought over from the bakery. He should check up on Loki (he has his own problems). He should talk to Nephry (she shouldn't see me like this). Or Molly (neither should she). Or Buffy (no pretending no no no...). Or Adele (nothing she can do). The trouble is that he's not fit to be seen by anyone. There's really nowhere to go but home, is there? Like it or not, he's chained to that place. Heaven forbid he send out a message to any one of them, or even that idiot Ivan, saying, I need help, today is a bad day, I don't care what you do just make sure...

Make sure of what? That he doesn't topple off any more balconies? He knows where death leads here. Everyone does. It would sound so stupid to explain why having one week asleep, one week ushered painlessly by during the wait to go home would be worth a death penalty.

...He needs to talk himself out of thinking that way.

At last, he sends out a voice message.]

The public stables are open, with three horses available to anyone who needs them. Just check them out with the on-duty stable hand.

[After inquiries are responded to, there's nothing to do but go home. Once he is there, he is most likely to curl up on his couch and not answer the door or any messages.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Time and...sort of a bend in space-time, I suppose. As if space is a sheet of rubber and you sort of folded it and punched a hole through to reach the other end.

[Molly thought about that a moment.] ...yup. That's pretty amazing.

That's what a wormhole is.

It's still like something right out of Star Trek. [She shook her head again. Anyway, moving right along.] So you spent a lot of time riding on [a silly little grin as she said this word:] planet-side?

Just planet-side, or downside, not "on" planet-side. And sometimes. If I have time.

Really? But don't you say you're "on" a space ship?

"On board" a ship, actually.

Okay, "on board" a ship, but just "planet-side?"

Right. Planet-side is a preposition itself. You wouldn't say "on underneath," right?

Oh, good point.

[But you would say 'In Nevernever'.]

Well. [She surveyed the equipment, now safely stowed away.] What's next?

[He picks up a comb and passes it over to her.] We learn how to keep a grey clean.

[She takes the comb, her fingers brushing artlessly against his.]

Sorry. [And she smiles at him, holding up the comb between them.] I think I know how to work one of these.

[He smiles just a tad when she does that, unintentional as it must have been.]

It's pretty self-explanatory, yes.

See, the experts always say that.

[And she lowered the comb and turned to go back to where the horses were stabled.]

Is this all we need?

[Gregor grabs two more brushes--stiff bristle and soft bristle--before turning to follow.] Go ahead.

[And so Molly heads out into the stables. Despite her time on the horse, she approaches Babushka a little hesitantly.]

Hey there, girl.

[The mare meanders lazily over to nudge Molly a bit with her nose.]

[Molly laughs a little at that, and steps forward more confidently. She caresses the mare's neck with a hand before bringing up the comb to her flank.]

[Gently:] It's better to start with the head and ears and work your way down. Circular strokes, keep them short.

Oh - okay.

[She takes the correction gracefully and moves to comply.]

Like this?

Like this.

[With perfect innocence, he lightly covers her hand with his and begins to guide her movement. Short, firm strokes. He resists placing a balancing hand on her shoulder to boot.]

[Her eyes widen at that for a moment, wide, blue, and surprised. He'd hardly touched her when they danced, she certainly hadn't expected him to make a move to do so now.

But then, there was no reason to think this was anything more than an instructor's touch. She'd learned there was quite a difference.]

Oh.

[And she permitted him to guide her for a little while.]

I think I've got it.

[His touch may linger for just an instant before he draws away.]

[Hmm.

Mindful of what Ivan had told her, Molly had to check her response to Gregor. While she might have been inclined to... finding some kind of mutually acceptable distraction in each other, his well-being had to come before that. And so she'd have to be careful, because while the possibility of Gregor finding an interest could be a healthy thing, would it really be healthy if it was with her, first of all, and secondly, the consequences... hmm.

Either way, she felt it better for him to focus his attention, for now, on activity and friendship as he, hopefully found some sort of equilibrium.

So she pretended obliviousness, and she did it very well.]

Thank you. [She glanced up at him, smiling as she spoke.] For teaching me, I mean. I feel like I should be offering to return the favor, but I don't know what you'd be interested in learning that I know.