is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
Though her words rang true, his patience would hold a different match in this game they played, each move seemingly taking ages just to make meaningfully and wisely. He didn’t regret any of his actions thus far, a rarity indeed even for the likes of him, however he’d not be without questions on any of this, let alone going about without warning of more possible blood and chaos.
The twins themselves were a mystery shrouded in riddle most times though they certainly proved which side of the board they played on, each move and counter-move made via their aid, so perhaps not all was lost. Not yet.
“Sure, but it’d be a real generous idea if you gave proper tellin’ on where I should head to now. The Vox are on the move with all those guns they were after, but where’s my deal? Now I got no airship an’ no clue as to what I should be doin’.”
The fellow had been persistent, always going on to inquire as to which procedures he’s wonted to establish in a particular order… As though the very concept of his success had been determined on account of very distinct actions and the such. While it is true that the Lutece’s had come to witness a diverse set of solutions toward each and every sort of momentary crisis that’s presented itself… But it hadn’t been their responsibility to assist the False Shepard with every aspect of his very purpose in this world and the next.
Heavily relying upon them doesn’t benefit him as justly as he’d come to imagine. Always the fellow is to be on edge, dubious of whether he’d ever receive support, and thus, causing his prosperity to practically increase more so than he could ever begin to fathom.
“Mr. Dewitt,” having begun as though the very address was a signification of her relinquishment, “Our occasional service should seldom be recognized as an obligation on our part… This is quite the predicament on your hands, but we are quite sure that there are various manners which you could go about solving it.” Emphasis had been put on his person, before a hand raises to make all seemingly brusque.
“–Without our aid, in this instance. Fret not, if it is direly needed, we will not do as much as abandon.”
Oh, it figures she’d show up now, no doubt readied with some form of vague and hilariously complicated riddle of a hint for him. Still, any help was good help, aid he’d not need to bargain for since leaving Finkton in the mad rush that they did, the signs of a revolution at their heels. A storm was quickly approaching.
Face soured once he caught visual of her familiar tan suit, a sigh to greet her as he drew near, already expecting some for of lecture of science and consequence.
“Alright, now what? Please tell me ya got some kinda useful clue as to what we gotta do now? Somethin’ simpler than arming a buncha angry factory workers an’ crowds?”
Assistance was needed and while Mr. DeWitt often radiated that impression that this service had been frivolous and unessential, the Lutece’s would often make mention of the various instances where guidance hadn’t been offered… In short, these divergent paths had lead to one conclusion: a inevitable downfall. A reoccurring resolution as this may not have been caused in the same manner, but they all had proven that the siblings were of use.
Countering his own response to the glimpse of the twins, they only raise their brows in utmost indifference. It was anticipated from a pair like them, whom were spectres; ideally haunting, their expressions filled with questionable disdain.
“It has been beneficial thus far, no matter of how tedious or arduous the purpose of the tasks might have been. Forget not: Rome wasn’t built in a day, slow and steady wins the race.” There had been a numerous amount of morals implicated in fairy tales that she could spout, but the man hadn’t been all that lost– he had been capable of comprehension.
“Sorry. It’s a grand thing, making a city fly. Balloons or Lutece field, or whatever it is. This is another one of those ‘strenuous subjects’, ain’t it…
You certainly appear often enough to be patrons, alright. But it’s someone else who’s payin’ me for this. I take it the right direction lies away from where I’m standin’ right now.
...Are we standing if the city is flying?”
”Have you not gained anything personally? One would assume that going on ventures as this would give an individual some form of self fulfillment…
No one does get anywhere by standing.
Since we happen to be on a solid object, we are. Although the object itself isn’t in a set position, our bodies are… In a sense.“
“The general public also doesn’t live in a city that floats in the sky. But maybe I’m not keeping up with the times.
Why are you here, Lutece? You have this habit of showing up unannounced with one cryptic clue or another.”
” No, but there is a nation made up of heavy numbers and impractical devotion. Right and wrong by their perception greatly contrasts our own ideals– though we as individuals hold far different beliefs.
Iwould hope I keep doing so, for your sake… Cryptic or not, it remains a clue.“
“You lost me at interchangeable and the whole floating city part. Also, I’m don’t see what’s so similar about quantum whatevers and psych-something or others. Am I just dumb or…actually, don’t answer that.”
”Besides being subjects the general public finds strenuous, they generally aren’t… I had simply been using these topics as a basis of comparison rather than truly signifying my words.
“Standards like mine, huh,” Booker gets a word in edgewise, voice dry. “What does that even— oh forget it.” He’s been called worse, if it’d even been an insult. Which, somehow, he doesn’t think it is.
He takes another long drag, narrowing his eyes shrewdly. “So… you’re happy? Cause that’n ‘content’ ain’t quite the same thing.”
That isn’t quite what his question is though. Booker gestures in a vague manner around them.
"You’re a scientist. I listened to your voxophones, you practically lived t’figure out these so-called wonders of the universe. And now that’s happened, what do you do all day? Don’t you, I dunno… get enjoyment out of anything anymore?”
The variable tends to get quite aggravated with devious dialogue, that had yet to transition in these diversified universes. Perhaps both Lutece’s ought to steady the reigns, else the man might find their frivolous guidance disadvantageous.
Continuing, the redhead lightly found herself raising both brows to his words, spoken thought more like. It was quite a thing to determine though; whether she’d truly been at ease with this existence, so different from it’s previous.
”Contentedly.“
”Would that induce you to believe that makes me inhuman? Very seldom do we find time to bond, but I can very much assure you that such things do exist but are hardly discernible.“ The False Shepard, as he is termed, ought to piece together by now the answers to such wonders.
“If you say so.” Booker withdraws his hand, and within moments he’s exhaling a lungful of smoke. For all his ire, Booker still turns away from Rosalind as he does so. He doubts the smoke can touch her; back in Columbia he’d shot at her several times (the only result of which was the Luteces getting steadily less impressed with him) and if bullets couldn’t touch them, what could? But he’s still not about to just blow smoke into someone’s face.
As he lets the nicotine soothe his ruffled feathers, Booker casts an eye over at the woman. There’s so many questions he still has for them.
“Say… what’s it like? Bein’ you two?”
Lingering a while longer, the woman watches carefully as the fumes hang over both their embodiment and the space surrounding as if the very occurrence had been noteworthy. In different realities, it is difficult to detect decisions like these ones. Roughly, eighty five percent of the time, Dewitt had the habit of smoking.
Not even he had asked such a question before, at least as of this moment. “Peculiar, by standards like yours.” By this phrasing, she had unintentionally gave a rather impolite impression but Rosalind continued. “It is as if holding no real wonders… Rather, there’s less of a need for them at this point.” Terribly glum, but this is not how it had been expressed whatsoever. “I am content.” No real descriptive prospects of their lacking lives, but the woman had been satisfied with what had already occurred and what was to come. Almost one big experiment, it could be seen as.
Booker sucks in a deep breath, and resists the urge to strangle the air. He swears she’s doing it on purpose. He’s also ninety-nine percent sure that behind that incredible poker face, Rosalind Lutece is smirking wildly.
“I’m not aggravated,” he says, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. “Just— argh, forget it.” Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, Booker lights up. “Thanks for the ‘hints’. I suppose.”
Before he puts the lighter back, he seems to remember his manners. Holding out the pack of cigarettes, he offers them to Rosalind, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
More than likely, this had been the complete and utter truth. Often both her and Robert came to find amusement in his befuddlement, which just as now, resulted in being disgruntled. Even if this had been their case on several occasions, they hadn’t failed to act their part, so nothing came with complete guilt.
”Could have fooled me.“ Mentioning upon his remark, the gesture soon following causing the lady to only look upon one of his many vices with a heightened brow.
”I do appreciate your courtesy, Mr. Dewitt, but I’ll pass on the offer.“ She’d only smoked very few times in life, now that it hadn’t been she was necessarily living, there came no comfort or satisfaction from the habit.
Jesus christ. Booker feels a headache coming on, one that isn’t because of timeline-hopping, but rather one he associates with Those Damn Redheads.
“Lemme get this straight… so sometimes just knowing is enough to trigger the bleedin’? Christ, why can’t ya just say so?” He scowls, mightily.
Tilting her head lightly at the evident temper raising. "If answers to strenuous questions were given at the drop of a hat, absolutely nothing would be resolved.” If anyone was to distinguish the conflicts that would arise, it was the redhead.
"No need to get aggravated. At least we are providing hints.“ Always willing to dance around the truths. The twins had found that, the results were best with mere implications.
{ And it isn’t because this isn’t the first time he’s seen the woman hanging around his office either. Though that definitely looks a little suspicious to the private detective. }
“There is a possibility you have more than likely crossed paths with me at one point in time or another.”
The likelihood of this could hardly of been considered a ‘likelihood’ but instead a definite surety as far as they both were concerned… Perhaps Rosalind more so than Dewitt but it was all unchanging.
