2021-12-17 - A Night of Lasagna

It's not hard to find a day when Alexander is okay with Gabriella coming over to cook lasagna; the investigator's social calendar isn't exactly full. He lives on the end of Elm that is more 'down on their luck working class' rather than the 'meth houses and abandoned buildings' end, but it's still a notable difference from the middle-class parts of town. Alexander's house is a three-bedroom, but tiny, rental on a yard; it's actually in pretty decent repair, with nothing boarded over. No car in the drive, either; he doesn't have one. There's a single line of Christmas lights framing the front door.

Inside is more festive, with a small, decorated tree. The furnishings are plain, and definitely thrift store consignments - although he's taken pains to keep them in good condition, and the carpet is cheap but new. The most expensive piece of furniture in the living room may be a large standing cage, where a bright green conure is currently resting, grumbling to himself. A beautiful, white ragdoll cat has stretched herself out under the tree, staring up at the fake branches with an expression of calculation. There's no dining table or chairs; that nook is filled with a small indoor garden of herbs and flowering plants, giving the air a pleasant, green scent.

No one expects the Gabriella Inquisition. Well, this one was actually planned and expected. A mellow yellow VW bug convertible pulls into his driveway and there is a tip of her head as she realizes there is no other car. Sure he said that he would have all the items, but she felt that she should bring it along anwyas. It's just who she is. Her green eyes study the area before she hops out of the car. There is a wiggle of her rear quarters as she pulls out the bag.

Of course, this brigns her to knocking on the door. KNOCK KNOCK. Her fingers curve to help it rap on the door as she waits. Then when she's let in there is a gasp of surprise. "You decorated for the holidays? I mean I didn't expect it." THen she's taking in the animals. "Hello there friends."

Alexander opens the door almost the second her knuckles hit it, stepping back so that he doesn't get accidentally whapped in the face. The conure whistles, and shuffles into the darkness of the corner, while the cat stretches, rolls herself to her feet, and saunters over to stare up at Gabriella with judgemental blue eyes. Alexander's dressed comfortably; an oversized sweater with deformed looking reindeer on it, and jeans. "I like Christmas," he says, quietly, as he gestures to invite her in. "Bluebell's safe to pet. Luigi isn't." His gaze flicks past her, marking the Bug, then back to her. "Hi."

There is a minor jump as she realizes the door is already opening. The bag of groceries is almost thrown at Alexander as she sees the kitty. "Hello my beautiful new friend. If I knew you were here, I would have brought you treats." It's almost like she's got that ability to communicate with animals. Her hands attempt to sweep the cat up into her arms.

"Luigi huh? For like the video game?" She looks at the bird for a moment. "Do you speak?" Then back to Alexander with a bright smile. "How are you doing today? You like my car? It's adorable, right?"

Alexander attempts to catch the groceries, but he really wasn't expecting that, and his hands just slide along the bag as it falls to the floor. Bluebell is not there to be picked up; the sound makes her skitter out of the room to hide under the bed, at least for a moment. "Fuck! You could give me some fucking warning!" Alexander snaps, dropping to his knees to scrabble after a can of tomatoes attempting to make a run for it. He puts things back in their bag, as Luigi eyes Gabriella with black-eyed suspicion.

"He speaks a little French," Alexander mutters from the floor. "Isolde taught him. And I'm fine. The car is okay. And yes, from the video game." He stands with the bag in one arm, makes an irritable sweep with his other to the ancient TV and its original Nintendo attached to it.

Gabriella presses her lips together and then she can't do it. It's the swearing. She starts to chuckle a bit to this before she laughs. "I didn't know you were going to have a cat. I have a thing for cats." She drops down to start picking up the items as well. "I'm sorry, Bluebell." Her lips curve up a bit to this as she offers towards the bird, "Je parle aussi un peu français."

Bluebell's fuzzy white face pokes around the doorway just in time to get apologized to. Seeing that nothing is on fire, the cat saunters back into the room like she'd just retired for a royal appointment. As Gabriella picks up items, she gets sniffed delicately, and then headbutted imperiously. Alexander's expression softens just a little. "She belonged to a friend. I found her after my friend died. So I brought her home."

If Bluebell is ready to be loved, Luigi is decidedly not. He stares more at the French, then walks across his perch to grab a bell on a small rope and ring it angrily, like he's trying to drown out her attempt to talk to him. "Sorry," Alexander says. "He really doesn't like strangers." Once everything's in order, he carries the bag into the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? Something hot? I could make coffee, or hot cocoa."

"I would adore hot cocoa. Do you have marshmallows? I should have brought them."

There is a kitty and now Gabby is getting shorter. Why is she getting shorter? She's melting! No, she's dropping downwards to pet the fuzzy kitty. "Hello my newest precious baby." Luigi gets a tongue stuck out at him when he rings at her. "Well, I don't like you either, Feathers." Then she smiles at Alexander.

"So who all lives here? I find most people tend to have roomies around here."

"His name is Luigi, not Feathers," Alexander says, patiently, as if she might have forgotten in the two minutes between the introduction and now. He putters around in the kitchen, making hot cocoa (with marshmallows), while Bluebell rubs her face and chin all over the petting hands, claiming them for her empire. "I live alone. Isabella stayed here for a bit when she was in town. And Isolde crashed for a bit when she first came to town. But that's all." A pause. "I have insomnia and night terrors. I don't make a good roommate."

When the mugs of cocoa are ready, he brings them out to the living room table, putting one near Gabriella, and keeping one for himself. "Do you like living with your grandmother?"

"Riiiiight. Luigi." Gabriella looks at the bird and mouths, 'Feathers' to it. Oh, it's on like donkey kong between these two. Then there is the cat. The queen of the realm and Gabby is becoming her willing henchman. "I'm actually more intrigued by these things. Like I sort of want to explore in your head when it's happening to see why it is and what the cause is that manifests it." Clinical brain just clicked into place for a moment. Oh. Wait. It clicked back off.

"Of course, I do. She's my grandmother and I love her deeply. I think she her heart will explode if I ever brought someone home with me though." There is a tip of her head. "Or she would make cookies, ask if we used a condom and have us rate each other's performances since that knowledge will help us in the long run." That's what Gabby would do to someone. It shows in that twinkle in her eyes. "Or there is the old standby of a shotgun wedding for taking my purity."

Alexander gives her a look. "Um. The cause is that horrific shit has been trying to kill me since I was eight or nine years old, and there are intangible entities who feed on pain and cause nightmares in this town. It's not hard." It's stated simply; just a fact of life that there are murderous spirit vampires trying to terrify him to death. He takes a sip of his cocoa, and studies her. "She doesn't seem like the heart exploding type, to me. So probably the latter. But a roommate doesn't have to be someone you're having sex with. You could find someone else to live with, if you wanted. I'm sure Mrs. Leigh likes having you there, though."

"She would kill me. If I tried to move out, there had better be a ring on my finger. How would she know if I was eating enough? Or socializing enough? What if I didn't meet the right people? Or what if I did and she wasn't there to hear about it first? What if someone broke my heart and she couldn't make me snuggle in bed with her while she pet my hair?"

Gabby's lips curve up to that with a bit of humor and probably a lot more love than she realizes she's putting out there. THen she looks at Alexander for a longer moment. "I might have enough mind voodoo stuff to make it so you can sleep soundly if you would like me to try some night? I mean tonight we are drinking cocoa and making Italian food. Then I will crash out because we should have drinks and talk about our love lives and giggle. You know.. a sleepover. Well.. I think. I've never actually had one."

Alexander smiles. "You're lucky. To have someone care that much about how you're doing. Definitely wouldn't leave." But to the offer, he shakes his head. "No. When you use your abilities, you draw the Shadows. Feeding you to them to get a good night's sleep isn't my idea of a good time." A long pause. "Thank you for the offer, though. I don't really talk about my love life, either. I'm not a good sleepover companion. I'm sorry."

Gabriella cants her head to that in thought. "Alexander.. first do you like Alex?" A pause. "Or Alexipoo?" Another pause. "Or Lex?" She's still thinking about them. "Or Xander..." Yep this is going to happen for a bit. "Big X?" Then she shakes her head. FOCUS. "Then.. do you have many friends?"

Alexander takes a breath. "None of those," he says, very firmly, but it's not a shout. "My name is Alexander. Don't mutilate it. I don't like it." The last question makes him stop. Think. "...maybe? I don't know how to define many. And some of them are dead, or missing, or got committed to an asylum and don't want to see me any more. So I don't think we're friends? And some of them are complicated." Another pause. "Many of them are complicated. What about you? Do you have many friends?"

"Is affection mutilating?" Isn't that that the question of the year?! Gabby offers it in a sincere fashion. "Most times that people shorten names it's to show affection. Though sometimes to show claim. I'm less likely to claim someone though." Gabriella thinks about it a few more moments. Then there is a smile. "I dont' know. I doubt it. I don't tend to make connections like that with people. There are some that I don't mind spending time with. Or those that don't hate me. I'm not sure we are friends though. That is a root and I don't tend to make them. I'm horrible at gardening, especially the garden of relationships." A cant of her head to that. "How are they complicated?"

"I don't care. My name is Alexander. I don't like nicknames. They're not real names. I have a real name, and I want people to use my real name." Alexander's jaw sets into a stubborn line. "Alexander. Just Alexander." He sniffs. "You just got here. You'll make friends." Then he shrugs. "Complicated. It's complicated. And not really any of your business," he points out, in a grumble. There's another sip of cocoa. "What kind of people do you like? As friends?"

"Interesting." Gabriella offers to this name conversation. She sips the cocoa. One almost can hear the 'how does this make you feel' to her tone. Then she shakes her head and smiles. "I like all people." There is a slight wince. "Okay, that's not fully true. I like honest people. I don't really enjoy lies. That's all I ask. They don't have to be a certain sort. A certain hobby. Just don't lie to me. It causes everything to get the wrong type of complicated." Which brings her back to... "It might not be my business but I'm curious. Like complicated as in one of you caught more feels? You secretly hate each other? You are on a quest to find the same treasure...."

"The kind of things which are personal and none of your business, Gabriella," Alexander says, firmly. He's getting that look on his face again; the one that suggests he's starting to have a certain appreciation for people's exasperation with his own nosiness. But he nods. "Honest is good. Lies are irritating. I prefer true things - although most people lie about something. Many things."

Gabriella nods her head a bit for a few moments thoughtfully. "I feel like you don't enjoy questions. I'm sorry, I tend to just ask questions without really thinking about it. I'm very curious by nature." She cants her head to the other side before she nods. "Most people lie to themselves the most."

"I don't mind questions," Alexander says, slowly. "Not about me. But my friends' complications are their own, and I don't want to talk about them. That seems wrong. But if you have questions about me and not other people, I don't mind." He smiles, briefly. "Curiosity is okay." He takes another drink of his cocoa, and reaches out to stroke Bluebell as she cycles between the two humans, getting her basic ration of adoration.

"Can I ask any question?" Gabriella offers with a lift of her brows. She almost purrs out that question like the white feline getting all the human attention. Her own green eyes just study Alex-ander.

"Yes," Alexander says. "I don't promise to answer it. But you can ask." He sits back, now looking intrigued by what she might ask. His focus on her has the sort of flat, unblinking intensity of something more reptilian than human, but he doesn't seem upset.

Gabriella doesn't seem upset by this, but one can see her turning the various ways that she might make him squirm OR that she might get information. Ignore she's petting the cat like an evil mastermind. "Do you think we will be friends?"

"Maybe," Alexander says, although he thinks about it for a couple of minutes before giving that assessment. "You like to play games with people. I don't like that. It feels like you're laughing at me. But most of my friends are assholes in one way or another, so I don't rule it out."

Gabriella lowers her brows a bit to this. It's as if he struck on something there. "Why do you think I'm playing games?" This seems to be a legitimate question as she leans on her elbow a bit to study him a bit more closely.

"You've said so. You say things to provoke a reaction, not necessarily because you believe them. You make people deliberately uncomfortable because you want to see how they react, and where they draw the line." Alexander shrugs. "It's not an invalid way of gathering data. I do it sometimes. But it's hard to tell who you actually are. Which is fine. Everyone protects themselves. It just makes me wonder what's sincere and what's just an attempt to get a reaction." He rubs at his eyes.

Gabriella nods her head to that. "I suppose that is fair. Everyone says I play games with them, but it's not games exactly. It's more.." Gabby looks at him, but it's threw him really. "I learned that you have to know what you are dealing with before you react. I um.. my childhood and growing up wasn't the sunshine that my grandmother probably would have given me. It made me have to know what a person is. One day the answer to the color of the grass is green. I would be praised for being so smart. The next day the answer green is wrong and I'd be hurt for it. So I suppose it's games, but it's less about games with people and more about protection of myself. It sort of hurts my feelings when people think I'm just playing with them. They aren't toys, but I also have to make sure they aren't weapons." There is a shake of her head and a smile. She does have some of the best smiles. "That probably doesn't make sense."

Alexander just listens, finishing off his cocoa before it can go cold, and occasional reach out to pet Bluebell. He doesn't say anything until she's finished. "It makes sense," he says, after thinking about it for a bit. "It makes a lot of sense." Her smile is answered in turn, although Alexander's is more tentative and fleeting than her own. "We all find our ways. I'll try not to take it personally. And we might end up being friends."

"I'm not trying to be the villain of the story, Alexander. However, I'm also very far from the hero. We all have these ... opportunities in life." Gabriella smiles more at the tentative smile. It's more on the encouraging side. He can do it. He can smile.

"We talk about opportunities like a job, money, things that we can get, but that's not the real opportunity we are given. People call them issues. We have mechanisms in our war brain that makes it so we survive. Now, most people drop their adrenaline and continue on with their lives and then there are people like you and me." She's grouping them together. He gets some of what she means. Bad childhood traumas unite.

"We were told we were crazy. We were inflicted in trauma in varying degrees through our growing up and formative years. Because of that and without the cushion of warmth and love to assist, we've become hyper independent. We learned we had to suppress to survive. That we had to be on constant alert. Something was going to come out of the shadows. We would be forced to fall asleep at any time. We were to be fed upon when we were children and teenagers. The adults around us that were supposed to protect us, just couldn't do it. They couldn't witness it. They couldn't fight it. We, people like you and I, we haven't ever left our war brains. We are on constant guard against things, people, and situations. We can't turn it off and it makes us different."

Look at Gabby saying the most of her to anyone in this moment. "I play games to figure out what the other person is doing. You react in your ways be it seclusion or distance. Things that have protected you. It's not wrong. It's not right. It's just what we do because we aren't living life, we are surviving it until the next moment our lives shift. The next person we lose. The next pain we feel inflicted on us for some other being's desire. --- But this, my most darling friend, is where our greatest opportunity lies. Our opportunity is not found in the riches of value that finance and money bring. It's when we finally realize how to enjoy our lives. How to let people in."

Her lips curve as she starts to section off the things and turn on the oven to preheat.

"I'll let you know if I ever get there and how, if you do the same for me."

Alexander listens, his head cocked to one side as he considers Gabriella. Her words, and more, the attitude behind it. "That's a lot of words," he says, at last. The smile comes back, a bit teasing. "But you're not wrong. Hypervigilance. And everyone has to figure out their own way to deal with it. As you said. I let people in. But not all people. It's better that way. For me, yes. But also for them." He glances away. "That's my choice. You can choose differently. Probably should. You're younger; have more of those opportunities left." He watches her move around in his kitchen - there's no territoriality there; he seems naturally inclined to give way despite it being his kitchen.

"I don't know if age plays a part in this." Gabriella offers. "We all live our lives and that is what ages us. You and I, we were already old before we were adults." She pushes off the area as if she's going to hug him. Oh GOD! Luckily, for both of them she starts water to boil for the noodles to cook. She does, however, just help herself to his kitchen and what is found there.

"Have you ever lived anywhere but here?"

Alexander's eyes widen when she seems to be going for the hug, and he skitters back away until his butt hits the wall. Even when she turns away, he eyes her warily. "Yes. I went to school in Eugene, and then bummed around for a while afterwards. Ended up staying in Northern California for a year or two." A pause. "I gather you've moved around a lot? That can be hard."

"Moving is more my home than one place. I start to get antsy when I'm in a place too long. Or I start assuming people are going to leave soon." Gabby offers a shrug of her shoulder to that before she nods. "Northern California can be nice. Also super filled with pot if you are into that."

"Pot is okay. You can get that here, though. Northern California is...problematic. In many ways." Alexander offers a shrug. "I don't like moving a lot. You don't know if things are wrong if you move a lot. Are you going to stay in Gray Harbor? Or leave?" A pause. "You should probably leave. Everyone says that, but no one ever does it."

"I don't know. I suppose it depends what happens in the next bit of time. I don't want to leave my grandmother. If I stay, her daughters leave her a bit more alone. If she was here by herself, one of them would make her come live with them again." Gabby makes a face to that. "I don't think she's ready for that. Also..." She gets a bit of a far off look.

It is almost like she's not going to respond and then she shakes her head and smiles a bit. "People don't think me as insane as they do out of here. Outside of the town, they are pretty sure that I have disassociation issues. To be fair, sometimes I don't know what is the dream and what isn't."

"If it tries to kill you, it's probably a Dream. And if it's not, it's still trying to kill you," Alexander says, flat. "So you're allowed to kill it. And I don't see Mrs. Leigh being forced to do anything she doesn't want to do. She's strong. Old. But strong." The slightest hint of a smile as he watches the woman. "But it is nice of you. To stay for her. It's a good granddaughter thing to do."

"There are different types of force. They took her out of here and sold her family house last time. You think they won't do it again?" Gabby shakes her head. "My mother is obsessed with being a good daughter to make up for all the years she was not one. Just like she's the perfect mother... now." Nope, she's not salty about that or anything.

Alexander's eyebrows rise. "Mrs. Leigh could stop them. Her children don't stand out. She could make them go away." A thoughtful pause. "I could make them go away. Make sure they never, ever come back to town again." He watches her, eyes dark. "My parents are embarrassed by me," he says, with the casual certainty of someone who can read emotions. "They think I'm broken. But they try to be good parents."

"That is their inability not yours." Gabriella offers. "They should be embarrassed by themselves. You are perfectly fine." She nods with a certainty to it. "My mother had me young. She thought she was grown before she was and made a lot of bad decisions. It was... It doesn't matter really. It just was."

"No," Alexander says. "They shouldn't be embarrassed. I was very difficult. They did as well as they could. They don't stand out, either. And I am not perfectly fine." He listens to the rest, nods a little. "But you are right. It just was. They all mostly do the best they can. So do we. They fuck up. So do we." He shrugs. "It's fuck ups all around, really. But if your grandmother doesn't want to leave, I'll make sure she doesn't."

There is silence to this before she looks at him for a long moment. "You like my Granny Gail, hmm? I mean that's good. She needs good people looking out for her." There is a cant of her head as if she's going to say more and stops. She instead rifles through his cabinets for a mixing bowl to come up with the cheeses.

There is a single mixing bowl, looking newly purchased - Alexander's cupboards reveal that he clearly doesn't do a lot of cooking, but there are a few odds and ends that have been bought. There's even a casserole dish. He doesn't seem bothered by her going through the cupboard. "I don't dislike her." It's admitted reluctantly, grudgingly. And hastily followed up with, "My mother wants me to look after her. My parents like her."

"Who do you actually like?" Gabriella inquires and then she stops. "Don't fret. I know I'm not on that list." Then she moves to go through the other areas of the layers to assemble it.

Alexander frowns. "I...how do you mean like? I don't dislike most people. I like people who like me. It's just disappointing to like people who don't like you." He huffs. "If you mean friends, though? Bennie. Isolde. Javier, I think. Easton. Itzhak. ...maybe Benedict. He seems nice, despite his family. And Isabella, of course." He gives a wistful look to the picture of the dark haired woman in the scuba outfit on the wall. "But people don't really...hang out with me. I think friends do that. Hang out. Just because they enjoy each other's company?"

"Or they come over and make dinner for you or with you? Have conversations? Try to respect your name and your space." TRY. With Gabriella everything is a try. She nods to the names before she considers that thoughtfully. "Do you think most people won't like you?"

"Ye-es," Alexander allows, slowly. "Although the dinner part usually happens after I actually know the other person. If it does. I'm still confused about that. But I'm sure dinner usually happens more slowly." Just not confused enough to fight about it, apparently. "And most people don't like me. Empath. I know. It's fine." Then he considers her. "Do you think most people won't like you? Is that why you just put yourself there?"

"I think it's safer for people not to know me. That way they can reject the image I've cultivated and not who I really am." Perhaps Gabby doesn't see the need to lie to another empath. "Most people who know the real me don't like me." She smiles but there is a something in her eyes. "My own mother didn't like me, how is anyone else going to?" Then a quick beam. "As we are making food, I think this makes us friends."

Alexander stares blankly at Gabriella for a long while. Then he says, "I don't think I like your mother very much." He moves on from there, glancing at the food-in-progress. Thinks about it for a while. "All right. We can be friends. If you want." A tentative smile; his own are not so bright as Gabriella's, but there's no artifice to them at all, even as he adds, "You cultivate an image to be rejected, it seems like."

"I do." Gabriella offers. "I come off very gimme gimme. Because people tend to be turned off by that. Then if they aren't well, I get things." She shrugs to that as she moves onwards into the other steps. "Or if people take me up instantly on my overt sexuality, I realize they are probably doing that everywhere. Most don't want to just have a conversation." She gives a bright smile to him. "You would like my mother now, just not then."

"No, I don't think I would," Alexander says, with a shrug. He continues to watch her with the kind of stare that suggests he's trying to pry open her skull with his gaze. "So you make a persona that can be rejected, so that when it is rejected, it doesn't hurt as much as if you were yourself and that was rejected? And then sometimes you get stuff, as well." He thinks about that, then shrugs. "Makes sense."

Gabriella laughs. "I mean, I think that's about it in a nutshell. Alexander, I'm not angry about most of my growing up, but there were times my one parent told me I ruined her life. The other parent didn't want anything to do with me before I even took my first breath." She shrugs her shoulders. "It gives a person a complex." She stares back at him unflinching. "Are you trying to empath me?"

"Your parents were wrong," Alexander says. "...which doesn't help to hear. And you probably already know. But it's true." He shakes his head a little at the question. "No. If I were, you'd probably know. You're strong. I'm trying not to. Empath people if I don't have to. I want to...be better. At people. Without fucking with their heads. So. I'm trying to listen."

"It's hard when you just naturally attune to people. I use to accidentally manipulate people." Gabby confesses. "In my teenage years. It just happened. I would notice things about them and then this glimmer would happen." She shakes her head a bit to that. "Do you think..." She shifts her weight. ".. you could help me with my empathy though? So that I could you know get better at my skills?"

Alexander grimaces with sympathy. "Me too," he says, quietly. "When I was younger. I...was afraid. That my parents would send me Upstate. Where the crazy people go. So, every time they started thinking about it, talking about it late at night, I'd want them to be proud of me. To love me. And so they did. I didn't stop until my father told me that he loved me, and I wasn't sure if he was telling his truth or mine." He clears his throat. "So I stopped. And our relationship...got worse. But at least it was real. Then." He looks away. "And, um. I can try. If you want."

"I don't know how to handle it as I haven't really been around anyone that has the shine." Gabriella offers. "I don't even know how to practice using it. I know that such things can get attention..." She nods. "When you see how fake people can be, you don't trust they are legit with you."

"It's always a matter of will and intention," Alexander says, quietly. "It doesn't feel like that, all the time. Because it can be overwhelming or scary. But it's important to remember that it's ultimately about will. So, you can learn to control that will. To stop, unless you want to. Or reach out when you do want to. But practice does draw attention. So you have to be careful. Not just throw yourself into it."

"How do you even practice?" Gabriella offers as she finds the right casserole dish to start assembling the food. She watches him more than the food. She can cook out of muscle memory.

"Intention and will." Alexander's brow furrows. "Um. Here. May I reach out? I can show you how to build a bridge between you and anyone with a strong enough ability. It's always voluntary. They can't take anything. You can't force anything on them. But once we make the bridge, we can talk anytime, at any distance. It can be good practice to get used to talking like that."

"Of course you can reach out. Is this where you talk in my mind? I think Javi did that last time." Gabriella says softly and lightly as she looks at him. She moves to put the lasagna in the oven once is it stacked properly.

"Javier. His name is Javier," Alexander mutters. But he waits until she has the lasagna into the oven before he actually follows through. The touch of his mind is a knock, strong and quick. If she accepts, there forms a bridge between them, not so much seen as felt. On Alexander's side, there's a black abyss studded with stars of razor sharp glass, reflecting the light of unseen suns in one moment, and only the black void in the next. His mind voice is stronger, more confident as he says, You will only share here what you want. Shape the words, or images, or whatever you like, and send them out. You don't have to be afraid of hurting me.

"He is fine with me calling him that. So I'm not too worried about it. I think he's just become broken down by me doing so." Gabriella offers before she feels the hit on her mind. She tries to come up with what she wants to put in her mind. What does does she want to share? How is her mind? One might think it will be bright and colorful. Glorious, but it's.. gray. Everything in it is gray, but a hazy gray like that of an April mist over water.

I don't care whether he's fine with it. It's not his name. Alexander's voice is sharp, but layered with undertones of concern about it. He takes in the gray without judgement, his attention like bolts of sunlight from those sharp, fragile stars. Good. Mindscapes are different for everyone. Some people represent themselves. As people, or animals, or other things. You don't have to. It's always what's comfortable and nothing more.

I'm more comfortable in the shroud. So I figured this would be the shroud to take. It conceals but gives glimpses to something in it. Gabriella takes in his own mindscape. Is this where people are the animal familiars they consider themselves to be? What avatar are you?"

That's fine, Alexander says. There's a pulse of soft affection. I know someone else who puts themselves in a wall of fog so thick that they cannot be seen at all. That's what's comfortable to them. All minds are different. He shakes his head, and there's wry amusement. None. This is all I am, Gabriella. I don't see myself as any sort of thing, I suppose. But you can be whatever you wish to be.