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[ Hugo huffs out a sardonic little laugh into his wine. ]

Ah, and that’s true too. No matter what, we probably can’t win when it comes to not being horrors to those locals either. It’s a fact that would be more palatable if they turned some ire Patho-Gen’s way too, but alas.

[ There’s a little pause, and for Hugo, it’s again just a little too long, but he breaks it with a laugh and a shake of his head. ]

—It feels like a strange thing to say, but I’m glad, you know. That you’re not bothered by it. Or that you have experience with it, rather? The locals can be afraid of me or hate me or whatever else, but it’s being looked at with scorn by the Augmented that I’m more afraid of.

You too, huh...?

[it's not a shock, given the similarities they seem to have, but it's still something of a surprise to hear hugo say he's afraid of anything.]

It's different when it's people who're more separate from you, but being looked at that way by people in the same situation... that one hits closer to home.

['i'm disgusted that i once saluted to your face.'

'you're no different from us. in the end, we're nothing but... disgusting pests.'

...yeah, it always feels a little worse when it's like that. he gives his head a quick shake to clear it.]

Well, anyway-- I don't mind it, so if you ever end up having trouble eating, let me know. If it comes down to it I can at least just let you feed off me.

Edited 2025-12-26 22:53 (UTC)

[ Privately, there’s a decision in where he takes the conversation. He just nods lightly, like he’s accepting his offer but just hesitant to actually say it. Not that it’s a misconception that he should clear up. He's not a blood-drinker. He's a murderer.

It’s the exact fear he’s talking about, right? He’s a coward when it comes to anything real, and he can’t even blame the Spectral soul for it. He’s always been able to deflect and lie with the best of them. Later, when he’s alone, he’ll hate it all the more. ]

Of course. In fact, the turn of phrase is the irony of it. “Close to home.”

[ The thing is, the trick with being good at something like this is to at least include a truth in its place. ]

I’ll spare you the depressing details, but I had an unhappy childhood. I was looked at with scorn from the day I was born since— [ He taps his cheek lightly underneath his grey eye. ] My eye was the marker of infidelity. A rich family doesn’t like a bastard son. My half-siblings made a point to remind me of it as often as possible, even if their circumstances were only barely better.

[ Even if he’s vague enough that the idea of sparing Gregor the details seems almost like a joke, it’s understandable. Hugo’s voice may be calm and easy, but there’s tragedy even in what little he says. ]

You would think that it would have made me more numb to being loathed, but it didn’t. It’s why I left them once I had the courage to do it. I figured being homeless was better than having to continue to bear all of that, you know?

[ He may be deflecting from something else, but the uncomfortable honesty still catches up to him. He averts his gaze to his wine glass as he swirls it. ]

Yet, no matter how I’ve tried, that past just doesn’t want to stay buried. I wouldn’t have expected such a fear to rear its head this way, though~. Becoming a literal monster is rather on the nose in term's of fate's awful sense of humor.

...whole world's got a bad sense of humor, if you ask me.

[he says after taking all that in, with another shake of his head.]

But numbing yourself to it isn't ever much better. Just makes it easier for you to lose your empathy, and you end up doing the same thing to people-- it happened to you, so why shouldn't you get to do it too? Life wasn't fair, so why should it be fair to them?

[it just keeps the cycle going. these things become permissible, that treatment continues on, and then the newest victims of it go on to do the same-- unless they break from the source one way or another.]

Doesn't make the hurt or the fear from it any easier to deal with, but at least having 'em means you can still understand it all. Keeps you human. You're not a monster so long as other people still matter to you-- way less of one than some so-called people I've known.

[ Even if he’s only telling the story in the broadest strokes, it’s still something vulnerable. It shows the most as his casual smile softens. Hugo may be someone that smiles more often than not, but they’re also so often masks. It’s pleasant armor. No one needs to know what lurks underneath.

But he likes Gregor. Or, more importantly… With what he’d shared the last time they had drank wine and spoke of difficult things, there seem to be things that he could understand. The circumstances couldn’t be more different, he’s sure, but they didn’t necessarily have to be. It was just the feelings they invoked.

So, he lets the mask slip. Just a little. Just enough to show a little sadness in his eyes. ]

Spoken like someone that understands it well. And thank you for that.

[ And there’s gentle sympathy in his tone for that too. As difficult as his life may have been, he does think Gregor’s must have been harder. Not only for the harshness of a world where cars eat people, but for a world where it’s novel that someone would touch his arm without disgust. ]

Well, luckily or not, I don’t think numbing myself is possible, at least. What can I say? I’m cursed with a sensitive soul. [ Then, with a huff of a laugh: ] Mine, obviously, not my needy little parasite of one.

That's not a curse, bud, trust me on that.

[even if he knows it's probably at least half joking, it feels necessary to say anyway.

he's not the touchiest of people, generally, but between their imprint and the hint of sadness in his eyes, that softer smile and the tone of his voice-- the impulse to reach out barely registers. he doesn't recall shifting his glass, even. one minute it's in hand, and the next he's using the sticky filaments on his insect arm to hold it instead, his human hand's fingers laced with hugo's.

better. that feels better, chilly or not; hell if he's going to let his plant's preferences for light and heat keep him from it.]

Not trying harder to numb it... something like that's still a choice. I'd know. And that passenger of yours doesn't make that any different, whatever you have to do to keep it satisfied.

[there are worse parasites. people who make themselves into one.]

[ The fact that Gregor reaches out is a surprise. Enough so that Hugo’s hand flinches very lightly under his own, like he might pull away, but it’s more reflexive than anything else. He does hesitate for a moment, but his hand relaxes and his fingers curl over Gregor’s knuckles in turn.

This closeness seems so muddy every time. Is the comfort he feels his? Or is it just an echo of the imprint? It’s probably something he should just let go unexamined, because the very question is like anathema to the warmth, but it’s difficult. ]

Maybe wine isn’t our drink of choice. We’re two for two on getting into difficult things, aren’t we?

[ He runs his thumb along Gregor’s skin gently, a warmer mirror of the gesture of worrying against his wine glass. ]

But I do worry about it, you know. I don’t know if it’s the same for the other types of Souls, but mine feels terribly opinionated. [ No, he’s being light again. That’s not what he wants to get at, so he rephrases. ] It’s angry. Resentful. I get the sense if I don’t keep it satisfied, then it’ll just take that matter into its own hands.

[ And it whispers at him to just lie, but he feels like trading one cowardice for another. It’s not fair to Gregor, and he knows that. It’s especially not fair because if he balks, surely he’d have to find somewhere else to stay, right?

But he’ll know how much of his is real—truly their own rather than some twisted, forced bonding. Selfishly, he thinks he needs that distinction. ]

I’m not a blood drinker. I’m simply a murderer. It’s killing that satisfies it.

... like it'll lash out whether you want it to or not. I get you.

[he murmurs in response to hugo's description of his soul. his terra soul isn't like that, but-- he knows the feeling, regardless.

and when hugo admits to his soul's needs... he doesn't release his hold on his hand, though he's quiet for a few moments himself. it's not hard to decide what he wants to say, it's just that he's worried he won't sound serious-- but how else can he put something like this?

...he's just going to have to be out with it first and go from there.]

That doesn't change what I said, y'know. About helping you out if you need it. Sure, neither of us is gonna enjoy it, but I've died worse ways before.

[this is certainly going to need more explanation, isn't it.]

See, Manager Bud, they can pull me back, and we might've already had to put that to the test here, so hey-- at least we know it works? [hurriedly continuing on as if he didn't just offer to die for him AND casually admit to dying after coming here:] You'd just need to call 'em over. Or drag me to 'em, whatever's quicker.

[ Hugo expects the worst. Of course he does, because it’s the reasonable reaction, right? Gregor may be used to death too, just by mention of being a soldier (and the bus), but it’s different when it’s what Hugo is confessing to here, surely. Even if Gregor doesn’t get up and leave in disgust, he’s sure to view Hugo differently.

(That’s the part that’s unfair. Even confessing this is a test of sorts, because if Gregor walks away, it’s easier for Hugo to steel his heart. It’s fitting, considering the part of their conversation about growing numb.)

So, naturally. Gregor’s response is a surprise. There’s the simple part, the fact that he’s met with understanding, the fact that Gregor doesn’t pull away, and that’s something meaningful. Enough so that he tries to stifle the way it makes him feel by looking down to their hands instead, but the way it continues? That’s much more of a surprise.

He can understand the kindness of this offer. The practicality of it, even, because if Dante can really do this, then maybe this is a way he could claw back some sense of ethics from the guilt that’s eating at him. And, yet. He swallow thickly, and he’s sure if he still had a heart, it would quickly start to hammer in his ears. ]

Gregor…

[ His mask slips more now, but it’s not to show softness. It’s still understated, but there’s concern that’s just a little too intense even for the worrying offer. There’s something personal here. ]

I can’t do that. Even if you can come back, I can’t… [ He grips Gregor’s hand a little more tightly, and he doesn’t seem to notice it. ] Please don’t die for my sake.

Hugo, hey-

[he... thinks he can read what might be behind the tighter grip, the focused concern that slips into hugo's voice. after all-

there's been something like that in his own tone before, albeit more pleading, and he reflexively gives hugo's hand a small squeeze. still here. still fine.]

...you don't have to take the offer either, yeah? I mean, I don't know how easily I could promise something like that, it's... obviously dying isn't always up to me, but trust me, I'm not the type of guy who likes throwing his life down whenever he can.

[it still hurts. it's still death. not to mention that he knows dante feels it, whenever they rewind the clock... but even without that, even with dying being all a part of the job now, he's hardly eager to go through it when it happens.]

[ The concern in Gregor’s voice in that tighter grip are exactly the anchor they’re meant to be. The brief panic that Hugo feels quickly dissipates. Or, rather, he forcibly pushes it down. It’s practically a visible effort, since there’s a brief moment where he closes his eyes, but his expression is one of mild frustration. He’s strict with himself and his feelings, and it’s something that Gregor is sure to be getting a better sense of now. ]

…My apologies. I didn’t mean for that to come out so sharply.

[ His hand relaxes again. Before coming here, he probably would have pulled his hand away, but the thought doesn’t even occur to him now. ]

I appreciate the offer, truly. You’re trying to offer a solution to this wretched problem.

[ He pauses for a moment and huffs out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. There’s a practicality to it that he can’t deny, and maybe it’s perhaps the most moral way to handle his wretched diet. Gregor’s death that doesn’t quite stick could be better than the lives that Hugo absolutely takes. But the sigh doesn’t come from that kind of brutal calculus. It’s the callous truth of the matter. ]

I simply couldn’t do it. We may not have known each other long, but I do care about you.

[ It’s the matching, implied statement that’s the problem. He doesn’t care about them. ]

Edited 2026-01-02 18:07 (UTC)

Well, maybe less of a solution than a sort of "break glass in case of emergency" situation, the glass being me... but I get it.

[he does. there's a line that exists, between the people you choose to know and care for-- and the people that you can't know out of pure pragmatism. you have to keep them firmly on the other side as a vaguely acknowledged enemy (or in this case, as food); it's the only way he was able to fight the war, to keep slicing through them, and it must be the same for hugo now.]

I'd be hard pressed to do it in your place, too. You... can't look down the barrel at someone you know the same way that you can with a stranger. Gotta keep yourself from being able to think too hard about it.

[ The way Gregor phrases it at least gets Hugo to huff out a laugh. He shakes his head, but at least he’s smiling again. ]

Then for many reasons, I’ll continue to pray that it never gets that bad. I can at least say that hunger doesn’t strike me nearly as often as it did before.

[ And thank goodness for that, honestly. The very thought of such an emergency already sends Hugo’s thoughts to a dark place, but if he had to “feed” more frequently? He doesn’t think he could bear it. He sighs, almost physically shaking off that dark train of thought. ]

I’m sorry to worry you. It’s… manageable, really.

[ It’s not the most convincing assurance, but it’s more because he just doesn’t enjoy what it means to manage it. While killing isn’t a new prospect for him, it’s never been something he’s relished in. The fact that his Soul clearly does is another little upsetting aspect of it. It’s something he wants to quickly move on from too. ]

And, goodness, doubly sorry to bring all of this up on today of all days! I should have saved a heartfelt, dire conversation for at least day three of you being my roommate, right~?

Maybe, but hey, it's been a good distraction from my own dire straits...?

[ah, yes. time for both of them to get right back to joking, surely everything is going to be completely fine forever.]

You're still gonna be stuck with me worrying about you though, sorry to say. Signed up for that when you imprinted with me.

[and the more they get to know each other, the more that worry comes from a place of care. gregor genuinely likes him, after all, so even if this is a problem he can't really help with... at least now he knows it's one that exists. something to be aware of, to not trip over and cause new problems later, to try to support him with.]

[ Hugo’s smile warms again, since he’s glad to return to the joking, but there is just the smallest hint of a little bit of bashfulness to it. For one, this isn’t exactly the kind of distraction he would have picked, and that’s a little embarrassing! But more importantly, it’s that playful, kind warning.

…Genuinely, he’s not used to people worrying about him. Before coming here and collecting imprints far more readily than he necessarily would like, he probably could have counted them all on a hand. He’s not exactly comfortable with the feeling, but also? ]

Mm, if you insist… But that goes for you too, you know. Even if it’s just your love life~.

[ He puts it lightly and teasingly, but that’s not actually what he means. Those serious subjects are things he’ll fret over, because he thinks the two of them are similar in matters like this. That helps him accept it more than he might otherwise. ]

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cw: suicidal ideation (but like the casual ""practical"" kind)

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