called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

Lucy's curled up in a pile of leaves.

She's still, mostly, in a grand mood, which is what really must be the case when one's husband has stopped, as she puts it, "being stupid," and when there's a mug of hot chocolate to warm you on a cool day, and when even though you're not sleeping all that much more you find you're not as tired as you were a week ago.

So she can curl up in the leaves and look at the clouds, as Corella's been cared for, and hum to herself a little.

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"Yes, right. You're happy. I'm glad. You just seem a bit . . . off."

"I am not."

Why do people keep saying that? It's getting irritating.

"Being happy does not make on 'off'," she says with great dignity.

"No, it doesn't."

It's all those OTHER things.

"Then I do not see why you'd say I'm off," she says, sounding a bit irritated.

"Because you don't seem yourself. ...not even your HAPPY self."

"Why?" Lucy demands.

"Because you DON'T. Lucy, it's -

nevermind."

"Fine. Shan't. You get to say that because you're you, after all, don't you?" she grumps and crosses her arms.

So unfair.

"I get to say ... nevermind? Because I'm me? So far's I know, letting a subject drop is the choice of anybody able to discuss a subject."

"Fine," she says again.

She was in such a good mood, and he just had to come and kick her and now it's ruined.

"You're right, of course."

"I am?"

He's not actually, at this point, quite sure what he's right about.

"Yes. Of course." Her smile's bright. "Anything else?"

Eeeeverything is fine here.

Carefully --

"You haven't been knitting, have you?"

"---Well, it is getting cold again," she answers, deciding Adam's gone off his rocker entirely.

Right. Adam's the crazy one.

"Lucy."

That's exactly what she thinks.

"Adam."

"Have you been having more dreams?"

Blank, blank stare. "Well, a bit."

Oddly, she's more tired in her dreams than she is awake, and not so--inclined to laugh, maybe?

But it's hard to be worried, because really, it's a dream, even if it's something else, too.

"Anything you feel the need to... talk about?"

He's getting eyed.

A lot.

"...Why?"

Because you're acting disturbingly strange.

"No reason."

She sighs and flops back in the leaves.

"You're so queer today," he's informed.

"M'queer every day."

It's said as an off-side, even as he's paying attention to other things, deeper things, shaking his head in confusion, and frowning.

"Does Alanna know?"

Yes, she's smirking, a little.

"'course she knows."

Conversation, rote, give an answer, ask a question, smile politely.