Worry.

[flint_garou]

I couldn't convince him to stay, because he hates me. No matter what I say, Devon will always hate me.

27 June, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Half (Philodox) Moon phase (56% full).

Flint's currently fetching himself a late lunch, in the kitchen of the breakroom. The young galliard is in glabro, still moving a little bit slowly, but he's humming cheerfully to himself.

Rina comes in with a pile of groceries, and starts stocking the fridge. "Hey," she offers.

Flint looks over at Rina, offers a faint grin. "Hi Rina," he responds, taking plate of spaghetti and soda over to the table to get out of the way in the kitchen. "How. How're you?"

"Okay," Rina answers, uncapping a beer for herself. "You?"

Flint shrugs his shoulders up and then down. "Okay," Flint says, grumbling at the chair before he shifts down to homid and sits down. Regardless of whether he should or shouldn't be in homid, at the moment. "Have. Have you seen Devon at. At all, lately?"

Rina's expression falls, her brow furrowing as she turns away. "No," she answers. "But he told me he was leaving. I— couldn't convince him to stay."

Flint nods, cracking open the soda and falling silent for a long moment. "I… I'm worried. About Devon. He. He wouldn't even. He wouldn't even talk to— me, the last time I saw him," Flint says.

Rina presses her lips together hard. "Yeah. I'm—worried, too," she says quietly. She takes a breath, glances to the door in thought. "I'll be back."

There's a nod. Eventually, Flint settles at one of the computers, headphones on, sketchbook set to one side of him, biding time. Occasionally, the cliath hums along with whatever music he's listening to, though not often.

Rina comes in with a tray of lasagna, and heads over to pop it in the microwave.

Flint turns around, after a few minutes, headphones off and set down next to him. "Hey," he greets, again.

"Hey," she answers, picking up her beer again and taking a long pull off the bottle. "Mind if Kavi joins us f'dinner?"

Flint pauses, and nods a moment. "Sure," Flint says. "I. I don't mind." Despite that he just finished dinner number one, the empty plate from the spaghetti he'd warmed up earlier next to him.

Rina purses her lips wryly. "Since I consider that an appetizer, f'someone your age," she says dryly.

Flint grins a bit sheepishly, picking up the empty plate to carry it over to the sink. "Uh-huh," he says, and then grins a bit wider. "Yeah. The… the sky's blue, right?"

Rina leans her backside against the counter's edge, offering him a faint half-smile. "Last time I looked. Though, it IS dark out, now."

The cliath looks a little more sheepish, moves over to grab his soda from by the computer again. "It," Flint says. "It's still blue. It's just. It's a different amount of, of light reflected. Less. Less ambient light so. So the blue is. A lot darker."

Rina's smile widens a touch, wistful, as she glances down. "Got it."

"It. It's the entire. It. Spectrums of visible light, and how. How much light gets absorbed, versus," Flint says, then seems to think better of it. "We. We learned it in." There's a long pause, and Flint glances back at Rina. "In school." There's a bit of distance, in the tone of voice at the mention of schooling.

"Yeah," Rina says quietly, her eyes a bit bright with affection and humor, as she looks across to him. "Me too."

Flint forms a very small oh expression for a moment, and just nods. "I… yeah." He glances towards the windows. "School," he muses, then sighs. "Didn't like it. It anyway."

Rina flashes a grin. "I wasn't great with it either. Arty type, and all that." The expression fades into thought, then. "What do you know about Devon? Or… what's up with him?"

Flint nods, coming back to the kitchen to lean against the counter. "He. He thinks, he's expendable. Or that… that Mouse-rhya, and Kavi-rhya… he thinks that he is expendable in the eyes of the tribe." The words carry a distinct unsettled tone, the cliath clearly not happy about any of it, transparent about what he's thinking right now. "He doesn't. He doesn't feel it, feel like. Like he belongs, here."

Rina's brow furrows. "Any idea what got him to where he is?"

There's silence, a bit, and Flint shakes his head. "No. Except, I know that, he feels somehow like. Like… L— Like he's wronged the Tribe, by existing. He. He hasn't spoken to me so much as, since. Since he gave me his apartment in Contrition." Another pause. "I. I don't think I… I don't help it much, either. Because, because I do get it, feel like. Because, this is home, for me, and I feel that. And. He doesn't."

Rina nods, studying the floor. "Can you—" She looks to him, dark eyes veiled. "Tell me as much of the story of Devon as you know, from the beginning?"

Flint grimaces, nods. "I. Sure. Except, I." Flint pauses, then continues. "He was a cub when. When I got here, first. I. I don't know what, I know before that, there. There's probably pieces of. Of the puzzle. That I'm missing, that. That I don't know or. Or understand…" Flint glances over at Rina. "And. And he made cliath, a few days after. But. When we… were both cubs, he gave me a hard time because I… was having a hard time, adjusting. Because I wasn't used to this being home."

Rina's watching him by then, the dark eyes serious.

Rina leans against the kitchen counter, her dark eyes watching Flint—though they flicker to the doorway a moment, and she touches a finger to her lips, signalling Ex to be quiet.

The galliard takes a moment, walks over to lean on a different countertop, and looks over at Rina. "He. Devon kept on that…" Flint pauses, takes a deep breath. "That I was. Getting worked up over, over stupid little things. But, I think he… he resented that I feel comfortable, here. All of that. I. After I ran away? Devon got upset over stuff when I. When Ishmael-rhya brought me back here. And then he kept making issues of things, anyway. His… his problem is me," Flint says, frowning more.

Today has not been one of Ex's better days, which is saying something. She has, bathroom breaks aside, absolutely refused to get out of bed all day long, and her willingness to talk about anything has been about as hopeless. That she appears in the doorway, narrow eyed and frowning as always, is her first real action in hours.

"Hey, Ex," Rina offers quietly. "You want some coffee? Dinner?"

"Anyway," Flint continues, looking down at the floor. "Devon. Devon, and Nik, and Elliot, fought some weird… hunters? out. On the bawn. And Devon was for. For a while, talking about maybe packing, with then. And then, when. When I made cliath, he still gave me crap. Over the post-its. Over. Over caring about what I was making, I… just, everything, I really don't think Devon feels at home, here." Then, Flint falls silent. "I. I wish I could, I knew more. Sorry, Rina."

Ex shrugs in response to Rina's question. Neither the kin nor Flint get more than a glance from her, but she doesn't leave the doorway either.

Rina's voice is quiet, her eyes thoughtful. "It's okay," she murmurs. Turning around, she turns the lasagna in the microwave, taking a look at it and then zapping it a while longer.

Flint sighs, quiet a while. "He. He may think that. That people don't care, but. I. I still worry. Even if he hates me, he's. He's still tribe. But I don't know what…" Flint shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders. "Or how."

Ex slides a single foot into the room, and then eases the rest of herself in. She remains near the wall, expression unchanged.

"Sounds like there's got to be a mediator," Rina murmurs. "And I fucked up by not bein' there, to do it, when I needed to be." She looks to him and says, quietly, "I'm sorry."

Flint shakes his head, and looks at Rina, once. "No. It. It's okay…" Flint says, and sighs. "I just. We should go find him, some point," he continues. "Devon needs… I don't know if. If seeing that we care. Will help. Or if it's more than that, but we have to try."

Ex flicks a skeptical look toward both of the others now. Her nose wrinkles faintly.

Rina lifts both shoulders, and then gets down plates. She looks over her shoulder. "Ex, you gonna try some real food, or do you want some of that rice?"

Flint falls silent, moving over to the fridge to get out another soda now.

Ex shakes her head again, in a thoroughly unhelpful answer. She eyes Flint for a moment longer.

Rina rubs at her forehead and then looks to Ex, pained. "I'll try them one at a time: one. Do you want food?"

Ex shakes her head.

Flint moves back over to the computer, for the moment, with a glance and smile to Rina.

"Aright," Rina answers, and then she turns around to dish out lasagna. "You don't hafta stick around, Flint," she murmurs, handing him a plate. "I'll be fine, okay?"

Ex moves to the table, and slumps into a chair. Her gaze seems to be on her hands, rather than the table itself, or the actual occupants of the room.

"Timing," Rina says wryly, as Kavi comes in. She's just dishing out lasagna.

Flint takes the food, looks to Ex, then back to Rina. "I." Then Kavi comes in, and Flint looks to the older Galliard, and nods. "Okay," he agrees, taking his plate of dinner and moving out of the breakroom.