retroductions | reverie overflow.

It is hard because of what he went through! Herlock, he running from cultists of his god. And if he never wakes, then it means he has been overtaken by angel inside him.

[ no matter the ending, the outcome is the same: God still got its chosen one. ]

[Sholmes does not think this invalidates his claim. Only that it adds to it.]

…Sprezzatura. Because he is in Solitary does not mean that he is lost to you forever. Only that we have not found a way to awaken those gone to sleep, not just yet.

[ shudders. and if he comes back, that's right--what then, once she's let herself fall in love with someone else?

she wraps an arm around her middle and leans forward. oog. stomach hurts ]

What do I do...

[Considerations, considerations. He can only unearth more, being who he is. This poor woman, though. So harried with indecision, inability to know which path to take.

He thinks for a moment.]

Do you believe your heart can only be given out to one person, and one only?

[ little pieces of her heart live in the pockets of no small number ]

I think I am too selfish to abide not being sole recipient of someone else's.

[ which makes her a hypocrite. ]

[He's not so inconsiderate to call her that to her face, but he can point out-]

But you are fond of more than one person. You've just told me so.

Yes. So I.... shouldn't. It would never be fair to you, or him.

I don’t think that’s necessarily true, either. If either party is fine with it…

[He trails off. Knowing this, he should fetch his other strings, too — not to make a point, but so that she is aware.]

I have another red string, too, my dear. [He holds it up, gently between two fingers. It’s twined with gold and yellow, much like hers.] Mr Inui and I have agreed upon it together, yet not exclusively with each other. I have seen other romantic inclinations in his strings, too.

[He doesn’t know if this helps, or hinders, or something in-between, but Sholmes certainly wishes to be transparent as possible.]

Oh.

[ naturally, right away, there's that pang of jealousy or disappointment. the reason she should not be entertaining what she so badly wants to entertain. she furrows her brows slightly, watching Sholmes' red string shift in the artificial diner light.

does this make her "the other woman"?

again?

again...? ]

What is it about this place...

[Tries to read the expression on her face, to see what he can garner from it. "Oh" does not tell him much.]

Hm? What do you mean?

[ her expression is pinched, a little maudlin, a little self-pitying. it's the expression of someone who feels abruptly let down, that's right—or something close to feeling let down. ]

Higher society is all complicated webs, but... this place puts even it to shame. Everyone so entangled with one another.

[In that case, her expression is very telling.]

Are you disappointed? No matter how tangled the web gets, more and more with each passing day, this does not change how I feel about you.

[ can't even meet his eye. ]

I told you I'm selfish, Herlock. I can't stand to be "other woman".

[Here, he frowns.]

Why do you think that label would be the first thing to apply? "Other". As though you would not be not held in equal regard.

[ because not even her family held her there. she brings a hand up to her temple ]

I don't... That is just what it is called.

No, that is the implication of someone who is...

[This is tricky, for a man like him. Who has never cared to ruminate on the complexities of relationships that formed all around him in his era, and the societal strings attached to nearly all of them. His brother would be laughing at him now, he's sure.

Waves a hand about.]

Not as important.

[ well. she has literally no answer to that, so she doesn't say anything, just gazing quietly at her coffee cup and the strings hanging off them both. ]

[...Sholmes reaches out, to place two fingers gently beneath her chin, urging so that she will look at him.]

That would never be the case.

[That she'd be less important.]

[ well. he manages. ]

You cannot split yourself into. infinitely smaller pieces. You have to make something your priority.

[ she believes this because this is how it has always been for her ]

“Infinitely smaller pieces?” It is but you and Mr Inui.

[To clarify.]

But surely you do not believe that. Amongst those that you have feelings for, do you feel as though only one is your priority?

Yes! Oh, my god, why do you not understand? Whichever one is before me, that's—that's who—

[ he's so rational, so reasonable and calm, and it makes her feel truly wrong, twisted to one side, like maybe if she could just get it right again, then she wouldn't have to feel this way, but she can't, because it's broken off in a way she can't make it move, and everything that is easy for everyone else makes her feel like being slowly buried in sand.

this woman is starting to. cry. pure frustration, the sense of someone too used to her own competency, and trying so hard and it finally not being enough ]

[Does she hear Henry telling her, “I told you so” in her head, at this point?

Sholmes, however, cannot view such a sight without his stomach dropping. He has seen her cry before, of course, but he had hoped to provide her comfort then — now, he is not certain he can, not when the distress is interlinked with him, or at least the circumstances which surround his relationship with her.

Difficult, difficult. And more than that, he just wishes he could find a single solution to this problem, like it were a case to solve; but the heart is so, so much more complex than solving a torrid murder, it would appear.]

Sprezzatura, in the end… The decision is yours to make. But I want you to be able to make it based on what you want, not what you are afraid of what might happen. My dear, I’ve already made you so overwrought, and I am sorry for it. Please don't cry.

[What can a detective glean? Would she be receptive to being held at a time like this?]

[ it doesn't look like it; she's pulling her hands away from him so she can cover her eyes, turning clumsily on her barstool so her back is to him. very quiet crying, but crying nonetheless, and her stomach burns with it. what an utter disappointment she's being—not to Eunoia and Selcouth Vaux, but to herself. ]

I wish I knew why I became like this.

[Then as much as it pains him, he does not make any attempt to touch her. Not for now.]

...Like what?

Paralysed by choice. "Opportunity", it used to be.

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