tell me what you want me to say.

[swords]

⸢OPEN PROMPT POST.⸥ leave a comment with a prompt (a picture, a lyric - whatever you like) and character of mine you wish to tag in the subject line and watch the magic happen. *note: if you leave the subject line blank, basically that gives me free reign to tag you with whoever i want. so. that's also fun.

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[philander]

He says, "So, I think you should have this."

Roger dangles the chain and pendant in front of her. He can't tell her where he got it; it's not new, obvious by the tarnish on the chain and the few tiny, tiny stones missing. But it's very, very real (Roger learned quickly to identify that; it makes all the difference when you're selling it), and - perhaps more importantly - it didn't belong to Laura. Elizabeth's, Julia's, or from a woman's pocket at the last party he was at, he can't remember.

"Come on, it's just a gift." he urges after a pause. She's going to reject it. He already knows it, and it's not that it's a romantic gesture - at least, it's not meant to be. Some sort of bait or insurance, perhaps. Worm his way into her good graces and presumably back into his own family's, and all that. He has to start somewhere.

[architecting]

Roger has to start somewhere, that much is true, though Ariadne would argue — quickly and relentlessly — that this particular juncture isn't the best place. To his credit, the offer does make her smile (albeit in a rueful, long-suffering sort of way); to his discredit, they haven't known each other for very long, so the fact that Ariadne's already found herself at long-suffering isn't a particularly good sign.

"It's not a gift, it's an insurance policy," she says with a laugh — not cruel, but matter-of-fact, her eyebrows lifted in an attempt to just get Roger to roll over and admit. After all, they were both adults (granted, him moreso than her) and they both knew precisely what was going on here (which begged the question why Ariadne was still around, a question she's yet to properly entertain).

Lifting a hand she presses two fingers to the side of Roger's hand and pushes the necklace away, the pendant swinging on its chain, catching the light and fracturing it a dozen different ways. "It's sweet though, I guess. Ten out of ten for trying."

[philander]

He lets the pendant swing in his hand before pulling up on the chain and letting it swing into his hand like some sort of terribly expensive makeshift yo-yo. He doesn't look particularly wounded, and he's not; the expected reaction just means that he has to try harder. But there's time.

"Insurance policy?" Roger asks as his hand lowers and he sets the jewelry on the table beside him before crossing his arms, observing her across the way. When in doubt, after all, what better thing to do than to play dumb? What better way to keep trying to reel something in? "What do I need that for?"

Of course, there's no reeling to be done here. They might still be just two bars above strangers, but Roger already knows that Ariadne's above that. Had he been aware in the first place, he'd've gotten out of that arrangement before it begain, but there's some credit for trying. Ten for ten, right?

[architecting]

Again Ariadne laughs and, truth told, there's a part of her that genuinely finds Roger amusing. Not that delusion and self-deception is anything to laugh at (she's seen what it's capable of, what it can tear down). But despite Roger's perpetual insistence towards ignorance, she can tell that he's as aware of the situation as she is. (Not much of an appeal, she knows, but Roger's case is shoddy at best and can take all the help it can get.)

Leaning forward, settling her elbow upon the table, Ariadne settles the soft point of her chin into the seat of her hand. She regards Roger with the same look she always gives him — a mix of incredulity and bemusement, curiosity mingled with exasperation. "You need it because trying isn't actually succeeding, Roger," she tells him, her smile pinching at her words, her tone admonishing him like you should know better. Lifting her eyebrows, she continues: "If I ask where you got that, would you give me a straight answer?"

[philander]

"I didn't have to do that," he chides, his voice too low for something that's supposed to be an innocent conversation. He leans forward as well, but catches himself after a moment and brings himself back, rolling his shoulders and straightening his neck. "I didn't have to do anything."

Roger's aware of the situation, oh yes; perhaps not the smartest of his family but he'd quite literally have to be blind to ignore it, practically written in neon as it is, a sign hanging in every window and every bar wall. What he isn't aware of is why he has to take every single shot. None have rendered him out of the game yet, of course, but with every conversation that passes he becomes more riddled with holes and knows it's coming. The question makes him freeze, sends an anvil straight into his stomach and no, he will not let this turn into an interrogation. Not again.

He's not quite sure what other option there is, though. Hasn't thought that far.

"Why? Do you wanna know?"

Roger sets his jaw and the story forming inside his head is surely as good as printed.

[architecting]

Roger may not want this to become an interrogation but Ariadne's a natural at them; they're her default setting. Though not completely adverse to talking about herself she finds little interest there in comparison to her curiosity for others. If asked Ariadne would say that there's nothing inside herself she wants to know that she doesn't now already. Whether that's bold talk or simple self-awareness has never really been brought into question before. (Whose fault that is, she doesn't know.)

Though her expression clearly reads stop trying to buy time Ariadne still sounds good-natured about it when she replies: "Would I ask if I didn't want to know?" She'd point out that answering a question — like he'd just done — is obvious signs towards evasion; there is the counterargument that she'd just done it herself, however, and the last thing she needs to do is give Roger an inch of wiggle room.

She's dealt with men with Roger in the past — okay, maybe not exactly like Roger, but with a few broad strokes in common. Professional thieves, professional liars — these are the kinds of people that Ariadne considers her friends and acquaintances. The main difference is that they have the decency to say flat out no to her face, while Roger's still convinced a kind of song and dance will somehow save him in the end. "You could just say you don't want to say. It'd be a hundred times less insulting if you did, you know."

[philander]

"It's just a question," he says with a shrug, and then he's all casual, all smooth, and, "You act like you don't trust me with it, or something." Never mind that it's well within her right. Never mind that he still hasn't mastered the art of subtlety - and likely never will. No, Roger Collins sees himself as a genius in these regards, a veritable antihero, suave and motivated, and a few lies painted white never hurt a soul.

"It's an heirloom," the story begins, rolling off his tongue. "Part of a whole set, passed down in my family. There's a set of earrings that go with it to. My sister's got those." That's plausible. Its lack of age he can explain away by stories of going to the jewelers, having the stones replaced and the silver magically untarnished. Never mind that he doesn't know his family tree back far enough to tell where it originated. The Collins family has its share of legends. What's the harm in making up another to go with it.

With a sigh, he leans forward in his chair, elbows on the table, and says, "I just don't have any use for it, is what I'm saying. Doesn't suit me." Or his grin.