[ olivia has barely enough time to stumble back when the large sweater is suddenly shoved into her face, hands flying up to fumble with it lest it fall to the ground at her feet. she feels a faint bubble of protest — not over the sweater, but over his assumption — quickly followed by a rather frantic need to correct him.
but she stumbles with her words just as she stumbles with her feet, and could do little else but to stammer out a quiet, ] Th-Thank you, [ and an, ] Um. It's... really not that bad...
[ she lingers by the doorway for a moment, looking unsure. ]
"Not that bad?" I don't have skin and I feel cold looking at you, gorgeous. [But come in he will. He crosses the room over toward the crab habitat and takes a seat on the floor. He gives the tank a few loving taps before turning his attention back to Olivia.
It's been months since he last saw her. From what he remembered, she was always more on the shy, defeated side, but, looking at her now, it's almost... worse. Maybe it's just his imagination. Projecting his own tiredness onto her.
[ it is a smile that she mirrors in turn — every bit as genuine, in that it is really only genuine in its intent. a mask for a mask, for the sake of someone else. ]
Far better than most, [ she says, almost like a mantra. in truth, it is something she has been reminding herself of quite daily. ] I have been quite fortunate in this mission... [ perhaps that is why she continues to over-extend herself. as if to make good use of that fortune.
she moves to the little kitchenette in their tiny studio apartment, retrieving a kettle from the cupboard. ]
[He has to give Olivia credit; she can be just as good an actor as him. He doesn't respond immediately, staying quiet as he watches her.
...It's usually not in Mettaton to be honest. In fact, that's usually the last thing he ever does. People want a performance. They want spectacle and glamour and joy. Hell, half the time that's all Mettaton wants.
"She's a performer too," Vaughn had said.
Sigh. Sometimes, the audience doesn't need another happy face. Sometimes, they need to relate.
Even if it is a little fake.]
Awful, [he drawls, collapsing against the wall with one arm delicately draped across his forehead.] Day in and day out, you work to make everyone else happy and for what? The goodness of your heart, yes, future accolades, of COURSE, but it's so tiring. There's no respite!! No thanks! No understanding! [I'm safe, darling. You can vent at me.]
[ the kettle is filled and the gas is burning by the time mettaton collapses against the wall. she turns just in time to see the dramatics, the theatrics, and for a moment she does feel a flicker of a genuine smile curve along her lips. he is quite talented, if not a bit over the top, but there is a certain performer's charm in that grandeur that she knows would take on quite well with many of the audiences she's performed for back home. ]
I'm sorry to hear that, Mettaton...
[ she moves to gesture towards the only couch in the room, where she absently shoos away a dog that's definitely not really a dog. saffron descends his throne begrudgingly, looking quite the sullen king of the studio apartment.
once empty, she gestures towards it in offering. ]
Would you like to talk about it?
[ it's not that olivia doesn't trust mettaton. but venting had never been in her nature, and while she is tired and stressed and worried almost 24/7, she had not been lying when she considered herself quite fortunate in all this... if anything, the only thing she would talk about is how little she thinks she's actually doing. ]
You would do that, [he asks, ascending from his self-inflicted floor-prison to sweep himself over to Olivia's side of the room. He takes a seat at her side with all the practiced grace of some sort of manipulative royal.] Listen to little ol' me...?
[Heartfelt sigh!!]
Well! [Well.
...well.]
Well! Obviously things aren't. The WORST. You know, singularly blessed with immunity and all, but. [He flips his hair.] WELL, you're a performer too, aren't you? There's something to be said about having to keep everyone else's happiness ahead of your own. Lifting spirits, being the distractions... That's all us entertainers can really do.
[ she smiles sadly, but not unkindly. she has tucked herself into a corner of the small couch, posture pristine, but her hands have curled tightly over her lap. ]
If only a song could cure such troubles, [ she murmurs almost wistfully. she is taking his "performer" comment quite literally, of course, but it has been a thought she finds herself entertaining every now and then... wishing she could sing or dance all this mess away, if only because they were two of the only things she feels she can actually do well enough to make a difference.
she settles into silence for a moment
before suddenly looking back up at mettaton. as if just remembering he were there. ]
[Ah, so there it is. The same (mostly) problem as his own. There's only so much singing and dancing you can do while the world falls down around you. Mettaton knows it isn't useless, of course. It's all he's ever done for his entire life, making other people happy, and look at him!! Celebrated! Admired! A real celebrity!! But right now...
It's hard to feel appreciated for it. Even if you know it isn't useless, that lack of appreciation... Well.
He notices her just about the same time as Olivia notices him and- okay, he can't help it. The perfectly placed mask crumples into a concerned look as he nudges himself away from her.]
'Fraid I'm not sure what that's implying, beautiful, but I'm okay, thank you.
[ for a brief moment, olivia feels a flicker of hurt at that reaction. but then, miraculously, the more rational part of her mind grabs hold, and she reminds herself that that reaction is possibly the most appropriate one there is.
she smiles at him kindly. ]
If you're sure.
[ just in time, the kettle begins to whistle, and she gets up to tend to it. ]
The concerned expression continues on, now slowly shifting into confusion as she offers him a drink--at which, he shakes his head,] I can't taste...
No, I'm... I'm sorry, sweetheart, but what did that mean? [That was such an awkward way to phrase a question that it's a bit hard to let go of. He's willing to drop it, of course, but...
[ she has the grace, at least, to look embarrassed. ] I'm sorry. [ she hopes she didn't offend him, but she has no real foundation when it came to... robots... or whatever it is that mettaton actually is. by all respects, sans and papyrus shouldn't be able to taste, and yet they eat all the time! nothing makes sense.
anyway, she's busying her hands with making some tea for herself, at least, because the chill has still yet to leave her bones. it's easier to respond when she is otherwise occupied, able to focus less on the strangeness of her words. ]
Several months ago, ALASTAIR had gifted me a number other abilities. [ may as well cut to the chase, she supposes. ] One of them allows me to remove someone's emotional pain. [ emotional healing, as it were. of course she says this all sort of casually, matter-of-factly. and blatantly leaving some fine print out. ]
Ah. That's... [Mildly terrifying? Far too much responsibility? A horrible thing to give to someone as already skittish as Olivia? God, it'd be like giving the same thing to ALPHYS. He could only imagine the abuse those powers would get any time someone seemed remotely displeased with her.
...he hopes that isn't showing on his face.
Whatever. Question answered!! He's back to smiling, teasingly patting Olivia on the shoulder.]
I can't say it's the greatest gift. I could do the same with a good dance and a bottle of wine. [Wink.]
[ she doesn't really comment on it. she has spent far too long turning the implication of the powers over in her mind, even initially considering it a punishment of sorts.
right now, she would rather focus on other things. like his words, for one.
[Especially not after last time... To be honest, considering, that joke's in poor taste. That night certainly didn't do anything to REMOVE emotional pain.
...
Anyway. He chases off whatever sour look he knows managed to cross his face and let's out a practiced chuckle.] ANYHOW. I appreciate the offer, but. There's something to be said about feeling things the old fashioned way. It's not PLEASANT, but, as an artist, it's my duty to suffer.
Ha. Besides. That takes all the fun out of COMPLAINING.
[ olivia can't say she's ever subscribed to the "tortured artist" mentality, but she can certainly understand the reasoning behind the correlation. there was a time, perhaps, a few months back, when she would have given anything to be free of the emotional pain she was in...
but in retrospect she knows the pain is hers, and hers alone. there is a strange comfort in knowing no other would have to suffer through it.
his next words prompt an odd, curious smile on her lips. she finishes pouring herself the hot water. ]
He's reaching for her hands, as if she just told him she wasn't interested in the man she planned on marrying and instead wanted to run away, leaving him at the altar and fulfilling her lifelong dream of becoming a breakdancing mime.]
Do you... not complain about things? [What the HELL is that?]
Oh my god, no wonder she's so timid about everything. It isn't that the poor girl isn't comfortable expressing herself; it's that she plain never does. She probably doesn't even know HOW!!
His grip tightens. He's staring her dead into her eyes.]
Being grateful to have something doesn't exclude it from criticism, darling, [he says, the biggest avoider of criticism in the known universe. Whatever. This is about expressing yourself!!]
Look at how small it is! You have a... [His eyes drift to the thing that got kicked off the couch earlier. Dog? Cat??? ...] long-haired golden retriever! This can't possibly be enough space for it. Or for your dancing! Lord, even attempting to dance in this space would end in bruises. [Not that he'd know. No skin and all.]
[ she bites down on her lip, glancing about nervously. while it is true she is not inclined to voice any complaints, neither is she the type to deny someone asking something so earnestly of her... curse her urge to be a people-pleaser...! ]
I... I suppose it would be nice to have a bit more sunlight...
[ there are only two windows in the entire space, after all, and due to their location, they don't often get a lot of sunlight during the day. ]
[ despite herself, she feels the corners of her lips begin to turn up... if only because he seems to get so happy over this, and olivia has always sort of defaulted to taking cue from those around her. ]
Um... S-Sometimes the audience can be quite rude...
[She's smiling! Oh, he knew this is what she needed!
He's excited now, gripping her hands a bit tighter as he bounces in his seat.]
They can be the worst! I ADORE my audience, don't get me wrong, but so many forget that this is free entertainment! We do this out of the goodness of our hearts! To make people smile!! To make them forget their real pain! And some of them have the gall to complain that it isn't ENOUGH! Or they take it for granted! Worst of all, some even complain that you're dancing for them in the FIRST PLACE!!!
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but she stumbles with her words just as she stumbles with her feet, and could do little else but to stammer out a quiet, ] Th-Thank you, [ and an, ] Um. It's... really not that bad...
[ she lingers by the doorway for a moment, looking unsure. ]
Please — come in... Vaughn should be back soon.
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It's been months since he last saw her. From what he remembered, she was always more on the shy, defeated side, but, looking at her now, it's almost... worse. Maybe it's just his imagination. Projecting his own tiredness onto her.
...He gives her a smile.]
So. How HAVE you been doing?
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Far better than most, [ she says, almost like a mantra. in truth, it is something she has been reminding herself of quite daily. ] I have been quite fortunate in this mission... [ perhaps that is why she continues to over-extend herself. as if to make good use of that fortune.
she moves to the little kitchenette in their tiny studio apartment, retrieving a kettle from the cupboard. ]
How have you?
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...It's usually not in Mettaton to be honest. In fact, that's usually the last thing he ever does. People want a performance. They want spectacle and glamour and joy. Hell, half the time that's all Mettaton wants.
"She's a performer too," Vaughn had said.
Sigh. Sometimes, the audience doesn't need another happy face. Sometimes, they need to relate.
Even if it is a little fake.]
Awful, [he drawls, collapsing against the wall with one arm delicately draped across his forehead.] Day in and day out, you work to make everyone else happy and for what? The goodness of your heart, yes, future accolades, of COURSE, but it's so tiring. There's no respite!! No thanks! No understanding! [I'm safe, darling. You can vent at me.]
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I'm sorry to hear that, Mettaton...
[ she moves to gesture towards the only couch in the room, where she absently shoos away a dog that's definitely not really a dog. saffron descends his throne begrudgingly, looking quite the sullen king of the studio apartment.
once empty, she gestures towards it in offering. ]
Would you like to talk about it?
[ it's not that olivia doesn't trust mettaton. but venting had never been in her nature, and while she is tired and stressed and worried almost 24/7, she had not been lying when she considered herself quite fortunate in all this... if anything, the only thing she would talk about is how little she thinks she's actually doing. ]
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You would do that, [he asks, ascending from his self-inflicted floor-prison to sweep himself over to Olivia's side of the room. He takes a seat at her side with all the practiced grace of some sort of manipulative royal.] Listen to little ol' me...?
[Heartfelt sigh!!]
Well! [Well.
...well.]
Well! Obviously things aren't. The WORST. You know, singularly blessed with immunity and all, but. [He flips his hair.] WELL, you're a performer too, aren't you? There's something to be said about having to keep everyone else's happiness ahead of your own. Lifting spirits, being the distractions... That's all us entertainers can really do.
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If only a song could cure such troubles, [ she murmurs almost wistfully. she is taking his "performer" comment quite literally, of course, but it has been a thought she finds herself entertaining every now and then... wishing she could sing or dance all this mess away, if only because they were two of the only things she feels she can actually do well enough to make a difference.
she settles into silence for a moment
before suddenly looking back up at mettaton. as if just remembering he were there. ]
Would you like me to take your exhaustion away?
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It's hard to feel appreciated for it. Even if you know it isn't useless, that lack of appreciation... Well.
He notices her just about the same time as Olivia notices him and- okay, he can't help it. The perfectly placed mask crumples into a concerned look as he nudges himself away from her.]
'Fraid I'm not sure what that's implying, beautiful, but I'm okay, thank you.
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she smiles at him kindly. ]
If you're sure.
[ just in time, the kettle begins to whistle, and she gets up to tend to it. ]
Can I offer you some tea instead...?
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The concerned expression continues on, now slowly shifting into confusion as she offers him a drink--at which, he shakes his head,] I can't taste...
No, I'm... I'm sorry, sweetheart, but what did that mean? [That was such an awkward way to phrase a question that it's a bit hard to let go of. He's willing to drop it, of course, but...
What WAS that?]
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anyway, she's busying her hands with making some tea for herself, at least, because the chill has still yet to leave her bones. it's easier to respond when she is otherwise occupied, able to focus less on the strangeness of her words. ]
Several months ago, ALASTAIR had gifted me a number other abilities. [ may as well cut to the chase, she supposes. ] One of them allows me to remove someone's emotional pain. [ emotional healing, as it were. of course she says this all sort of casually, matter-of-factly. and blatantly leaving some fine print out. ]
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...he hopes that isn't showing on his face.
Whatever. Question answered!! He's back to smiling, teasingly patting Olivia on the shoulder.]
I can't say it's the greatest gift. I could do the same with a good dance and a bottle of wine. [Wink.]
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right now, she would rather focus on other things. like his words, for one.
she turns to him with mildly squinted eyes. ]
I thought you said you couldn't taste...
[ why are you drinking wine........ ]
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[Especially not after last time... To be honest, considering, that joke's in poor taste. That night certainly didn't do anything to REMOVE emotional pain.
...
Anyway. He chases off whatever sour look he knows managed to cross his face and let's out a practiced chuckle.] ANYHOW. I appreciate the offer, but. There's something to be said about feeling things the old fashioned way. It's not PLEASANT, but, as an artist, it's my duty to suffer.
Ha. Besides. That takes all the fun out of COMPLAINING.
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but in retrospect she knows the pain is hers, and hers alone. there is a strange comfort in knowing no other would have to suffer through it.
his next words prompt an odd, curious smile on her lips. she finishes pouring herself the hot water. ]
Is complaining very fun...?
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No. No no no. That's. No. What? Really?
He's reaching for her hands, as if she just told him she wasn't interested in the man she planned on marrying and instead wanted to run away, leaving him at the altar and fulfilling her lifelong dream of becoming a breakdancing mime.]
Do you... not complain about things? [What the HELL is that?]
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(i mean apart from themselves heyooo) ]
Um... no? [ she glances away a little nervously, starting to feel self-conscious about it. ] I-Is that weird...
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Oh my god, no wonder she's so timid about everything. It isn't that the poor girl isn't comfortable expressing herself; it's that she plain never does. She probably doesn't even know HOW!!
His grip tightens. He's staring her dead into her eyes.]
What do you hate about this apartment? Right now.
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H-Hate about it?
[ hate is such a strong word, mettaton... ]
Nothing...! It's a lovely space. Vaughn and I are very fortunate it was available.
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Look at how small it is! You have a... [His eyes drift to the thing that got kicked off the couch earlier. Dog? Cat??? ...] long-haired golden retriever! This can't possibly be enough space for it. Or for your dancing! Lord, even attempting to dance in this space would end in bruises. [Not that he'd know. No skin and all.]
There has to be something that irritates you.
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I... I suppose it would be nice to have a bit more sunlight...
[ there are only two windows in the entire space, after all, and due to their location, they don't often get a lot of sunlight during the day. ]
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Sigh. Mettaton's such a wonderful friend...]
Think of how beautiful this room would be with a little more light filtering through those windows. The FLOWERS you could grow...!
[Oh!] What about working in the public? Quickly, now.
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Um... S-Sometimes the audience can be quite rude...
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He's excited now, gripping her hands a bit tighter as he bounces in his seat.]
They can be the worst! I ADORE my audience, don't get me wrong, but so many forget that this is free entertainment! We do this out of the goodness of our hearts! To make people smile!! To make them forget their real pain! And some of them have the gall to complain that it isn't ENOUGH! Or they take it for granted! Worst of all, some even complain that you're dancing for them in the FIRST PLACE!!!
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But — why would anyone ever complain about dancing...
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