Upon climbing up the last step to the highest level of the globe bleachers, Dexter glances at those already seated at the edge who bite through bagel sandwiches, some teenagers enjoying a tray with cheesecake for dessert. They straighten their posture and press their legs against their seats though to allow Dexter to stroll past, maintaining that posture as right behind him follows Rica, both of them carrying their own trays. While Dexter simply strides down the bench with his tray by his side in a casual posture, Rica slightly lifts her tray as though to exercise greater caution, her head low to track the shoes beside her to ensure none would accidentally trip her.
Navigating down the curved aisle, eventually Dexter is first to reach the center, the vertex of the semi-spherical stand, promptly sitting down at the far end though there’s realistically only enough space in between him and the other random citizen to his side for one more to rest, that one being Rica who reaches the opening seconds later, swiftly examining the bench though upon detecting an absence of litter she calmly seats herself down beside him, leaving little room left.
Practically shoulder to shoulder with only a couple inches of spacing, Rica merrily smiles as she picks up one the slices from her tray, which is populated densely with toppings of small shrimp, mussel meat, and scallops. Not only that but there’s oyster meat, calamari, and even chunks of crab meat, the slice itself like a dish plate in that the toppings alone may function as a meal which is drizzled over with lobster bisque. As Dexter first leans back with an exhausted groan perhaps too representative of his age, Rica carries her slice in one hand with a gentle bend, slightly folding it which offers support with minimal damages while allowing her other hand to rest free.
As Dexter just lets himself rest after a seemingly tiresome morning, Rica pulls the slice to her mouth before taking her first bite, delighted with a smile before continuing to nibble through her food. After the third small bite, Dexter finally straightens his back before then leaning slightly forward, picking up one of the slices from his own tray to lift it up, that slice not having nearly the abundance of toppings as his friend’s, in fact the only topping to decorate the otherwise cheesy orange surface are simple red disk-shaped pepperoni slices dotted over, holding it similarly to his friend’s by bending it gently, bringing it to his mouth for a large bite that rips off a chunk from the tip. After quickly chewing that first bite, he leans in and takes another as Rica finishes swallowing one of her nibbles before a gentle breeze drives through them, triggering her to shiver with chattering teeth. The breeze passes practically right after it came, and while warming herself back up she comments, “There’s that December weather rolling in. I should’ve worn a conditioner today, apparently it’s supposed to snow here tomorrow too. If only that meant we didn’t have to go in for work….”
Chewing his second bite with a huff through the nose from that idealistic wish following the forecast report, Dexter tilts his head partially up towards the sky perpetuating that gust as he recounts, “Actually I think one of the interns thought that’d actually happen. Colin shut him down before I could say anything, poor kid looked so happy and now he’ll be stuck at his desk all day.”
Taking a minor bite from her pizza, managing to slip a piece of calamari in that bite, Rica chews until she’s able to respond back with a light retort, “Oh the youth, make sure you boys don’t bully down too hard.” She then swallows that bite completely before following up with a glance to Dexter, “How are the other new hires anyways? You’re hardly at your own station anymore, just running around everywhere chasing them down.”
After having chewed through another bite, already having devoured half of his first slice whereas his friend is only perhaps a quarter through, Dexter swallows before sighing in discernible fatigue, throwing his neck back as if to rest it before grouching, “It’d be easier to get to the ones I’m managing if they weren’t spread so damn far apart, it’s like they’re purposefully trying to scatter everyone.”
Humming in contemplation to that conundrum, Rica’s eyes flash before she turns to her friend to inform, “Well I mean they kind of are, they’re trying to surround the new people mostly with the people who’ve been around for longer so they can learn from them, if they clumped all the new people together they’d never be able to get help from anyone.”
To that entirely objectively factual statement, Dexter freezes up almost in astonishment at how instantaneously his argument was dismantled, yet he unlocks himself with a bitter huff and recovery grumbling, “Hm, well, maybe, but they don’t need to be floors apart. There’s more than enough space to spread them over one floor, I mean maybe if they were stacked on each other I’d get it but they’re on the other side! I’m supposed to mentor them so it’d be nice if I didn’t have to give myself an office tour every time someone Connects me.”
Sighing with an apathetic disappointment to her friend’s stubbornness to remain negative, Rica stretches her free arm to playfully pat Dexter’s head twice timed with a tender “There there”, tapping his bun which doesn’t trigger a repulsive reaction, for he instead just frowns with an incoherent mumble, only proving his childish image.
Huffing to the cognition of this immaturity, Dexter shifts his tone in a propitious observation, “But they’re doing well, of course they always start a bit slow getting used to the process but this batch at least has been accelerating impressively. Poldro and Lenglin were actually put on Grade B projects a few days ago despite this being their second and third week, I can tell the pressure is pushing against them quite a bit but they’re maintaining themselves decently. Perhaps they’re not used to this caliber of work, but they’re optimistic, so they’re on a good trajectory.”
Smirking with a mischievous, “Huh,” Rica leans forward to more clearly gaze at Dexter, pausing on her eating despite her previous statements of necessary urgency, instead sneering: “You’re actually proud of someone for once? Well, look at you. I was over here thinking you were just going to dismiss them, but I guess maybe even you’re getting soft. What, do you see your younger self in them, cheerily ‘ol Dex applying for his first jobs when he was a wee little guy just trying to impress a boss?”
Immediately Dexter’s eyes sharpen to a glare from the insult, but they just as quickly soften to a calmer state adjusting his eyebrows up in contemplation resulting in a huff like a chuckle before turning his head to meet her gaze and jive back, “I’m just relieved that these kids are easier to train than you were, best of all they’re coming to work on time so I know they’re being genuine when their time ports claim them to be entering at eight flat.”
Instantly next Rica’s cheeks redden and she breaks the stare, turning her head the other way in a show of defeat while exclaiming aghast, “Why do you remember that?! Time cop! And hey you probably forgot but sometimes I’d stay later and keep the same time so I was technically working uncounted hours so it all balanced out!”
Contortions by Dexter’s mouth almost seem to try forming a smirk though it’s extinguished quickly in self control, however there is a sense of pride when he doubles down, “Do you want me to dig up your old ‘revised’ time ports just to jog your memory?”
Fighting a losing battle, still holding her first slice still mostly unfinished, Rica releases a heavy huff to cleanse herself, relaxing her face back to its normal complexion before putting up a wide albeit questionably genuine smile, raising her head up albeit still avoiding eye contact as she strangely pivots with a giggle, “Ahah well, anyways uh speaking of how people are doing, uhh have you talked to Rohan recently?” That gloating pride of Dexter strangely erodes rather quickly in response, though it’s hard to tell from the swift turn away from her, hiding his own face just before his expression softens.
To Rica’s curious surprise, an earnest response is delivered in a tone more awkward, its boastful shine stripped: “Oh uh…I mean you know, I mean you know we don’t really Connect much so it’s sort of here and there.”
Able to now recuperate herself with a relieved sigh that indeed the conversation has diverged from shaming her, she lifts herself to a straightened posture, facing Dexter though finding his own gaze diverted.
Stunned by the unexpected break of contact despite having been stared down just moments ago, Rica watches with slightly parted lips as Dexter’s own gaze glides aimlessly away. She ponders for a few moments in silence with a slight frown to the soberized change in tone, but she manages to raise her own in a cheery inquisition: “Oh wait, so like have you two talked about the thing about the Meditat sightings? I mean I know you’ve talked to him after those warlords claimed him to be alive but like people were kinda unsure since there wasn’t really any proof and to be fair after the bell slowed down people started doubting them since…you know…it’s not like their word is really the most trustworthy. But like, have you seen those Chips of that blue comet on the day of that solar storm a few weeks ago? I mean I know some people say they won’t believe it until they see his body but I don’t know, it just has that look that’s like, it can’t be anything else right?”
Still Dexter’s shoulder faces Rica instead of his eyes, silencing for a moment with a downward head tilt. Another gust of wind passes through them, ruffling his few loose hair strands and the few wrinkles on his otherwise well tailored blazer, a similar effect placed on Rica who quietly shivers once again.
Warming herself, Dexter doesn’t show physical reaction to the breeze, though he does admit, “I guess we did talk the other day…actually I talked to him yesterday….”
That reveal warms Rica enough as her eyes light up in intrigue and she leans forward with an anticipatory smile before pressing, “Ooh wait really? Nice, how was that? How has he been?”
“He-...,” immediately answers Dexter though he pauses again for a few seconds as though to rewrite his response first, his elusive gaze maintained, but he does restart his answer albeit in a tone marginally stony, “He’s been doing fine, it was fine, we just talked last night but it wasn’t for that long anyways.”
Humming with a raised eyebrow to the strange tonal dissonance, Rica shakes her head as her own curiosity takes precedent, visibly excited from the recounting of this exchange she only could experience through the lens of her friend who she marks brightly, “Aw that’s sweet, I’m happy at least you’re able to talk to him. I mean I guess I don’t even really know his inner circle so maybe he has been keeping contacts but it feels like most people aren’t even certain he’s still alive. But it’s nice knowing he still keeps the line for you.”
“Heh…yeah that’s…sure,” Dexter mutters in a practical whisper though one made sarcastically, his response brief, lacking much room to spring off of.
However Rica’s sunny smile remains as she passively rocks from side to side from the news of the seemingly wholesome chat, mostly oblivious to the man’s lethargic tone or at least it’s overwhelmed by the vocal positivity. She freezes upon the sudden thought that crosses her mind, her mouth hanging open before articulating exuberantly, “Oh wait so you did tell him about the Meditat sightings? What did he say? I mean I’ve been overhearing people thinking maybe the more it seems Meditat’s still out there, there’s more of a chance for Rohan to show himself again. I mean I’m glad it seems like he’s been doing okay off grid so maybe he’s grown to prefer that quiet lifestyle, but I mean it seemed he never had any intention of vanishing until the incident. So like…did he seem to have any change of heart again?”
Her eyes widen in an abrupt self realization before suddenly apologizing earnestly with her free hand waving defensively, “Wait sorry sorry, I realize I’m piling questions on you and I’m not like trying to get you to spill the shake or anything I’m sorry, it’s just like you haven’t really brought him up in a while so it’s just like-.”
“No, no, it’s okay Rica, I get it,” Dexter confidently interjects with an assurance, successfully relaxing Rica who silences as her frantic state balances out. His head turns again, though not towards her, but instead generally forward from the stand. His mouth is left with a gap, no words to immediately fill it but he instead pauses for a couple seconds. When his mouth does start moving, it rapidly winces, his teeth almost gritting intensely before relaxing to then speak words aloof: “Yes we talked about it. It’s…I don’t know…it’s complicated. I guess like…he didn’t really believe me.”
While at first that gloomier tone sets back Rica in surprise, she recovers helped by the peculiarity of the statement which she presses on in a voice still upbeat albeit slightly more uncertain, “Well I mean, yeah I guess it’s pretty crazy news and I’m sure for him especially he’d have a hard time believing it, I mean like with everything that happened he probably just-,”
“No, Rica, I don’t mean like that,” Dexter again interjects but this time in quick extermination of her thesis in a tone strangely aggressive, astounding her with a slight frown almost upset at the harsh counter, her mouth left hanging with the next word at its tip.
Another breeze passes by, ruffling the gray creases of the blazer’s upper sleeve, the shoulder smoother due to the greater tension applied. Similarly there is a movement of creases on the man’s neck though it’s caused by the sudden tensing of a muscle as if ruffled. He does however clarify with a voice dampened mostly cleansed of pique: “I mean as in he just didn’t believe me. I mean I’m sure the news was also hard to digest, I acknowledge that, but he was just…obstinate I guess, obstinate towards me. Like he didn’t even want to hear the news coming from me, like he preferred if I didn’t even talk to him about it.”
Unable to remain blissful for both the tone of voice and its words have aligned in a cloudy form that infects Rica, her bright smile curves to a frown, the sorrow from her friend beginning to infect. Still she fights, swaying her head in quick glimpses beside her in search of a counter, finding one that she presents in a cheery tone though one not as empowered for it carries stains of hesitation: “Well I…I mean…I’m sure it’s not like that. It’s probably the actual news itself and you just happened to be the messenger so maybe he seemed colder to you, but I’m sure it wasn’t because of you, like he’d probably have acted the same to anyone else, probably worse even, I mean it must’ve broken his view of the world to hear something like that. I’m sure it’s not because of you.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Please, Rica,” sternly demands Dexter, again silencing her but this time with a reaction not as assuring but rather insistent, dejected even as though her attempts to cheer her friend had the opposite effect.
Still the man’s grip on his slice of mostly plain pizza holds strong, his hand only needing to grasp the edge by the crust to sustain stability given the minor bending. However his hands visibly tense, its clamp tightening which does cause the slice to bend slightly more, starting to crease the bottom as the pressure builds towards its endurance maxima.
Entirely ignorant to this result though, Dexter just reinforces in a cold sternness almost argumentative: “It was me, I know it was. I mean before I even said anything he just didn’t seem happy to see me. I don’t even know if he was really reacting to the news itself, it was like he wasn’t really listening or he just didn’t care. He was just…it was like he was bothered by my presence alone. Like just being there was enough to irritate him.”
Her perception of the chat contorting from a wholesome brotherly exchange into a rather messy feud, Rica frowns miserably as she could feel the distress emitting off her friend, his aggressive tone indicating roughness in a conversation that she thought could’ve had a bright outcome, this passing of information carrying the potential to lift the brother when in reality it seemed the opposite had occurred which left both unsatisfied.
She lowers her head in deeper thought, understanding that attempts to alleviate couldn’t be as simple, for him just recalling the events had sullied his mood. For that there was a visible guilt in her eyes as she was the one to initiate the conversation.
Struggling harder to find a light, she does eventually raise her head back, her eyes now set on him even if she couldn’t obtain a direct exchange, and while the melancholy has now mellowed her tone, she does fight back with an attempt to uplift: “Hey I’m…I mean that does sound bad I know…but it has to be some misunderstanding. I mean you two are brothers, I know you haven’t really talked to him all that much lately and you’ve had your quarrels and whatnot but still I mean you were like best friends back then and you still seemed to keep in touch pretty well.”
Shaking his head in direct conflict to that assurance, Dexter instead refutes agitated, “Not really, I mean yeah he’s basically always been like this, when we do talk he’s immediately sour, like from the start he just wants out. I don’t think he’s ever been happy or even neutral to seeing me, I mean it’s like he doesn’t even see me as his brother or a person.”
His hands tense more, bending the pizza slice enough it starts to fold, his facial muscles contracting, his temple nearly bulging as he tirades, “He’d basically prefer anyone else than me, his employees, his friends, he’d rather have nobody. I mean he was always like this, practically abandoning me and just keeping everything distant, I don’t think he’s ever even acknowledged having a brother to anyone, like he’d prefer acting like I don’t exist. I mean I’ve always been the one initiating everything, and I just get hit by this shit, I mean I went out of my way to talk to him because I thought he’d care to know and he just basically tells me to fuck off.”
Her concern growing in correspondence to his anger, Rica winces before attempting to act with greater haste, spurting out bluntly without much time for thought: “I mean I know he hasn’t been the most attentive brother that he could and I do wish he acknowledged you more but I’m sure he didn’t mean for you to feel like-.”
“I mean it’s like every time I try to approach him he’s trying harder to get me to give up,” continues Dexter in greater volume as the sky slightly dims, not with a formal interruption as he doesn’t even acknowledge the counterpoint, still facing away.
In fact, a few people beside him as well as those on the bench below take notice of the argument, some of them glancing towards the source with concern as he was starting to embarrass himself in public. Some of them cast unapproving stares at the disturbance, the adult man acting like a whining child, a ripple Rica notices too with unease, however it seemed she wasn’t even capable of obtaining his attention.
At least further down by the middle benches the mix of chatter largely drowns out the bickering, permitting those resting and eating to continue freely, smiling and conversing to each other. Among those who are unaware of the commotion above are the three women side by side, the woman with indigo hair about halfway through her Salad Slice, the other two also eating through one slice however they had begun with two therefore they’re further along their meal. The woman on the opposite side as the one with the Salad Slice, the shortest of the three with pink lemonade hair, takes another bite from her Cheese-clear Slice, every bite a fight as she tugs against a fleet of thick cheese trying to pull back the chunk bitten. Casey does rip against the resistance though, able to chew the piece and then swallow before she turns to her friends to broach, “Oh yeah, we should probably figure out what sort of activities we should all do together, I mean as Alina said we have so many more choices.”
Both of the other women glance to her after the mention, the one in the middle with long brown hair smiling softly to the optimistic tone of the subject, an optimism that weaves through the woman with indigo hair who hums meditatively for she wishes to put true thought, pausing the consumption of her slice too. While she does, Alina finishes chewing her Forest Slice somewhat similar to the Salad Slice, though with more variety in that there are mushrooms as well as chunks of meat. After a quick glance to them both she offers, “I can drive us and I’m willing to go offworld, I mean it’d be best if we don’t like to go all the way to Earth 3 because that might be a bit out of reach but still, just figured to mention it.”
Casey giggles to the surprise of her friend, though it’s followed with the clarifying oath: “Of course of course, and now’s probably not the best time to even go to that Earth. Or actually maybe it is, history’s basically being made over there. Have you seen the trial clips? I mean this is the first global impeachment over a president dealing drugs in history, that world is on fire.”
Sighing from the reminder of the current events she failed to account for, Alina clarifies defensively: “Okay I was just throwing a number out there, yeah it’s probably not the best time. I have seen the clips though, I admit they do have an impressive attorney but it’s clear he’s struggling, that kid isn’t really making things easier at all.”
“Heh, yeah,” Casey agrees, as suddenly Ember’s eyes light up like an epiphany just struck her, and she turns to face both of her friends to begin suggesting, “Wait, I should look into SpaceFnFs in Earth 36, I recall her mentioning wanting to visit. And it’s the perfect destresser, both for this project and whatever she has going on…because it’s clear there’s something bothering her.” That last phrase is spoken more sentimentally as she lowers her head with a frown upon the self inflicted reminder of her friend’s precarious state, both Alina and Casey taking notice as Alina offers support with her hand on her friend’s shoulder.
At the same moment, above the three of them, Rica desperately tries to calm Dexter, though he’s not even facing her direction, his gleaming red eyes set away in his rant: “I mean at this point why the hell am I even still trying to care when he so clearly wants me to not, I mean I’m just trying to help but he just hates-,” just as down at the center of the stands Ember somberly sighs before admitting, “I just hope Kokei’s okay,” to which Dexter above immediately freezes, his crimson eyes widening in shock.
Despite having been tunnel visioned into his own anger enough that he ignored his own friend’s pleas, therefore definitely was not focusing on any other conversations around him for they held no significance or at least over the passion currently flaming him, that one single name had breached his dense barricades, for his eyes instantly move down towards the one who spoke that name. Those around him who were casting irritated glares show puzzlement to the abrupt halt, including Rica who’s simply stunned by the unexplained pause, uncertain to immediately speak as her words were already being ignored before.
However none of those directly around him were at Dexter’s attention, but instead he was zoned in on those three women seated on the bench side by side, the one in the center comforting the one to her right as the one to her left sighs before agreeing glumly, “Yeah…I hope so too…I just hope we can help her with whatever’s been eating at her lately,” for they didn’t know.
Yet he did. For instantly, images flash in his mind, images of that young woman in a loose short sleeve shirt and pink shorts like pajamas, stumbling back behind a crystal blue wall with a mixture of bewildered horror in her pink eyes, the same color as her long hair.
Another flash overlays it with an image of that same woman, seated inside the matte black pod hovering outside under the warm cyan sunlight past the garage whose arched door is partially shattered through the center, that door being made of a dark red obsidian-like metal, and yet her expression can be discerned through red tinted lenses as her eyes are expanded behind the bangs of her hair partially covering her face, her lips parted in astounded horror.
Over that image is another of that woman clearly dressed in an oversized white hoodie with bright decals of what resembles sprinkles of a cupcake, standing on the chrome platform surrounded by metal pillars all encased within the collapsed cave as moonlight strikes her through, her shimmering eyes struggling to stay open as her body collapses, dread warping her face as her jaw just hangs open.
Finally there is that image of that woman frantically sprinting down the gray rocky surface of the Moon, racing away from the safety of the black SUV pod amongst the many huge white spike towers in front of the great white wall beneath the cosmic void, screaming with all her might as tears are shot out of her eyes, anguish from the imminent tragedy, able to do nothing but cry any final parting words.
Every single image portrayed despair. Hopelessness. Terror. Tragedy. Experiences she was forced through by one perpetrator, one man who had caught all these glimpses.
That man just stares forward with dim crimson eyes, his lips parted. He remains silent, only communicating a frown as his irises jumble, shaking. Slowly his lips seal in a closed mouth, forced in deep introspection that completely reversed his expression from one of resentment to one of anguish.
Through his gaze, down below among the Square still heavily occupied there are others who react to the breeze with chills, grabbing their shoulders to protect themselves or offering their own arms for their partners to be warmer. Such a great abundance of people chatting in place, pacing down the plaza, interacting with their personal holograms, eating their food whether it be in relaxed nibbles or intense scarfings, nearly every figure is constantly moving. The only exceptions in fact are the five clad in gold lined up and towering over the rest, standing on their own platform. The figure in the center of the line stands proud with his hands on his hips, oddly the only of the five statues to not have an exposed face for there is instead a mask with only parallelogram goggles to stand for eyes. Whereas the other four statues have explicitly heroic expressions, perhaps dramatically so, the one in the center is the only who couldn’t by the nature of lacking a face, seemingly rendering it the least expressive.
Yet it’s that statue that Dexter just stares at solemnly as finally beside him Rica inquires gently, delicate as though to try mitigating an intense retaliation, “Uhm…Dex…are you alright?”
For a few moments Dexter just stares off ahead in silence, but he does ultimately turn his head to meet Rica’s gaze, revealing his face to be a sentimental frown. He lowers his head slightly before answering in a near whisper drowned in shame, “I’m…I’m sorry.”
In that admission of gloom, Rica can’t help but frown too, connected to the same melancholy even if unsure of what had triggered it. She lowers her head for a moment, but she quickly raises it up and despite the emotionally turbulent outburst of her friend she manages to puncture through a soft smile as she places her hand on his shoulder and comforts, “It’s fine Dex…I understand your frustration.”
Quickly Dexter begins turning his head and refuting, “No, I mean-,” however Rica jolts Dexter’s shoulder harder, forcing him to face forward as this time she’s the one to sincerely interject, “No, Dex, listen. I do understand at least to an extent of what you feel. I mean I don’t even know where my brother is, I haven’t known for so many years, I haven’t even been able to contact him so he might not even be alive and I don’t know if I’d ever even know if that’s the case.”
Frowning to that mention as the sky continues to moderately darken as if there were clouds in the way, Dexter pivots himself back to face Rica, providing her his attention respectfully so she can continue in a voice also on the verge of breaking down, “I…I wish so badly that I could have any semblance of connection with him, to be able to talk to him, hell to even know how he is. The last time I saw him we were still kids, the last thing he told me was that he was going to leave this world to find something more ‘exciting’, that’s the last thing he told me, that’s the last thing he told my mom and dad. And we can’t find him no matter what, we talked to the E.G.A and he’s not even on their registry, it’s like he doesn’t exist.”
Rica gulps with a nudge of her head in the struggle to keep herself contained in a subject matter clearly painful to recite but she faces straight at Dexter again and pushes through to declare, “He knows where we are, he knows for a fact that we never left. If he wanted to come back, he could, he would, and that’s what hurts the most. Because he’s had this chance for so many years, and he’s just never chosen to take it, and honestly to this day part of me is still hoping he might take that chance but another part of me just wants to kill that other part of me because it just hurts waiting and waiting when both parts knows that he’s not coming back. He doesn’t just act like he doesn’t want me in his life, he took it upon himself to break me from his life in a way I can’t do anything about.”
From such a direct and sudden retelling of this heartbreaking story, Dexter is initially left stunned on how to act. He winces in the shared baggage now emitting from her, understanding his own rant to perhaps now be perceived as somewhat childish to which he lowers his head and begins to apologize, “Rica, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-.”
“Don’t apologize Dex, that’s not what I’m trying to get at,” Rica rectifies before sniffling though keeps her hand firmly planted on her friend’s shoulder to explain, “You are right to feel the way you do, I’m not trying to invalid that, but you’re talking about this like it’s irreparable, and I know you’ve felt this way from basically the year we’ve met so I know it probably feels like it’s impossible at this point. But just being able to talk to him alone is a window, and maybe now it feels like they never go well but as long as you have that window you have a chance for things to be better.”
She lowers her head before taking in a deep breath, reaching the final push with the declaration: “I want things to be better between you two, I know I hardly know him and it’s kinda crazy that I used to hang out in his dorm with you not knowing who he was but I don’t want this to hang over you forever. And it might take time, but I believe in you.”
She then sniffles with a brief innocent giggle before remarking jokingly, “And besides, I can try to help you out along the way, I mean I don’t really have successful advice but you know, I can say random stuff I think sounds logical and hope it doesn’t ruin your life permanently.”
While the sentiment was truly genuine and by Dexter’s sincere smile it’s clear he does acknowledge that as such, there is a hesitation in his eyes, an uncertainty that such advice was even sensible in his own situation, for his story was so vastly doctored that he frowns for just a moment upon understanding to himself that he potentially wasted his friend’s effort trying to help him, though he erases that frown with a gentle smile in a moment of masking to express, “Thanks, that means a lot, Rica. I uh…didn’t mean to get so intense…that was…I don’t know what that was,” as he glances around to find that those who were sitting beside or in front of him had now returned to their own habits, no longer concerned with that outburst.
To that genuine remorse, Rica shrugs with a casual smile to secure, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve heard way worse out here over way less. Honestly, I think anyone staying in this city for too long would go insane,” as she slides her hand off of Dexter’s shoulder, returning it to her side before returning to her partially eaten Seaful Slice that she starts taking nibbles out of once again.
Sighing to that statement with a nod, Dexter can’t help but simply agree, “Yeah…that’s fair,” before lifting his own Camillus Slice and taking a few large bites out of it, working his way to the crust with decent speed.