We're all aliens to someone...

“Hunter.” *his eyes shift over to this proclaimed hunter suspiciously for a moment. “Must be some line o’ work you’re in– ‘calm and peaceful’ ain’t exactly part’a the job description.” Stating from his own experience. That, orrr he’s just really bad at what he does. 

He entertained it anyhow. Fair game in a world where hunters existed in all shapes and forms. Besides… any good hunter knows to learn all they can about their targets, right? 

IV just stared at this man for a moment. Something wasn’t clicking.

“No, you presumptuous, capitalist. Not work. Hunter. As in, means for survival. I hunt, then I eat. I told you I am living a simple life. I mean it.”

Simple, well. As simple as he could muster on this desolate rock heap that he’d sentenced himself and his son to. Which begged the question, what the devil was this man doing here? Quietus didn’t often have visitors and IV had learned to be suspicious of everyone. Of course the energy canon in his arm was only a second away, should things turn dicey-- well. In short, he wouldn’t hesitate to blow this fucker’s head off. 

Oh, cute. For that brief moment, Hughes was nearly enrapt by the image that flitted across the man’s screen. Even beyond the natural beauty of the display, it was just fascinating to see. For as much as he’d come across in his lifetime, one might think he’d almost be desensitized to things that were very much out of the norm.

He was almost glad he wasn’t, just simply for little interests like this.

     “Thank you. She’s a spitting image of her mom, you know. How I ended up with the two cutest girls in the whole world, I’ll never understand.” But he thanked his lucky stars for it all the same. Those were his girls, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

     “Look at that handsome little guy! Man, he looks just like you, too.” Not that that… was really saying much, he supposed. It was probably easy to achieve. “Guess playdates are outta the question at that rate. You planning on doing anything big for his birthday? Y’know, situation pending, I guess.”

Listening to the Lieutenant Colonel talking about his family stirred something inside IV. Perhaps it was refreshing to hear someone talk so openly about his affection for his family. In fact, IV had felt something very akin to the sentiment this man was expressing. He’d never felt more happy, stuck on that filthy latrine in Cleave where the news had broken to him. 

But circumstances did change drastically, and he felt his luck was running short.

And to think, Squire might have enjoyed a playdate if given the opportunity. He hadn’t the opportunity to play with other children on Quietus. 

He shut off his screen.

Mortem waited patiently, hardly bothered as he mulled over speaking or not. She knew the trials of talking about things one did not necessarily wish to. Or perhaps couldn’t will the words to breach their constricting throat. She was made up of many words that would likely never reach the ears of others, after-all, both positive and negative.

The witch knows well what it is like to both stand in a similar position as he and also be standing in the shoes of his son. Unbiased to either party. The only thing she could not claim to know was what it was like to have a partner of such a degree. Her vast index of experiences and observations sought to aid Robot in his dilemmas, ones he possessed and knew he possessed but has never seemed to do anything about (to her knowledge).

“Perhaps. Something tells me that if she put up with you she was someone who enjoyed a touch of chaos, however.” Mortem lightly teased in earnest for a moment before adding, “I suspect she may have also seen reality well. Something that is on you to do for the sake of your son. To add to the unasked for advice, I would suggest you learn to speak about her - even if it’s out loud by yourself and not with anyone. Your boy will someday ask and expect answers, it would be good to be prepared for both your sakes.” Losing a mother (or parent) was not easy. She knows well the questions that linger, the new ones that arise the more time passes. Inescapable wonderings. Her fingers toy with a lock of hair.

“You may feel as though you are doing him a disservice but the fact you’re here and can change that matters most, this I can promise you.”

IV nearly laughed at her astute observation about his late wife. From their very first meeting the princess had made it quite clear that she had no intention of tolerating his at times... histrionic behavior.

The princess had given just as good as she got.

He glanced at Mortem then, noticing her subtle wisdom. Squire was an inquisitive boy already, and he was beginning to broach more uncomfortable subject matters. It normally stemmed from the seemingly simple games they played, that were slowly taking on a more three-dimensional plot.

Once, the fair maiden they were meant to be rescuing had “died” before they had a chance to save her. IV had stopped in his tracks to stare at his son, who’d carried on with the game despite the suddenly dark twist.

...

Perhaps the witch had a point. 

IV strode across the room, fiddled with a book on the nearest surface, then placed it back where he’d found it with some pause.

“Yes. She was... a very patient person,” was that an odd way to start his reminiscence? Perhaps, but it was also a word he very much associated with her. The princess was good at waiting. 

Admittedly Mortem was good with Squire, and the young boy seemingly adored her and the fantastical games that she seemed to come up with on the spot. Together they managed to exhaust the child properly, but in doing so inadvertently tiring themselves as well.

They sank to the sofa in near synchrony, IV couldn’t even consciously blame Mortem for the way they folded against each other. He did not struggle when he felt her arm brush against his, their thighs slotted together against the cushions. 

Perhaps he was unfairly surprised that she made no efforts to pull away either. He realized that quite the opposite was happening. She seemed to be wrapping herself closer.

Mortem was arranging them in a way that was more comfortable. In a way that similarly snatched away any case of plausible deniability. 

IV shifted ever so slightly glancing down to catch the way her hand patted against the back of his. 

“Indeed,” he agreed tersely. It was nice, actually. Something priorly inconceivable. 

She had already shut her eyes, nestling further into tranquility. Tentatively IV raised a hand to reciprocate the gesture and found there was no convenient place to land it other than against her thigh.

It wasn’t a gesture that went unnoticed, though Hughes at least had the good grace not to say anything about it. That little dent… it was certainly something he’d taken note of before, but he hadn’t thought much of it then. The poor guy already looked worse for wear in the first place—the fact that it was only a small dent was probably lucky.

He’ll keep his observations to himself. Now’s not the time to risk bringing down the mood too far.

    “Sir, I’ll be the first in line to say it if you don’t beat me to it. Fatherhood is probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to deal with. Believe me, I know it’s easier said than done.” Not that he was going to dwell on that for very long. He seemed much too content to pull out his wallet instead, fishing out one of his favorite pictures of said girl to slide across the bar. Not that he had asked.

     “Just turned three not too long ago. You know, I swear, my wife and I were just putting the nursery together yesterday. Crazy, isn’t it?” Where did the time go? “How old did you say your boy was?“

There was something to be said about this man. The nearly devious twinkle in his eyes had been alarming to IV at first. Though he found he was quickly getting used to it. Assimilated was a better word. Now, as the man’s eyes gleamed it wasn’t immediately apparent what he was noticing. 

Perhaps noticing a lot more than people gave him credit for. 

IV accepted the photo and took a look. Immediately his screen lightened to display a field of innocent white daisies swaying with a gentle breeze.

“I believe you’re a bit biased in that opinion, lovely.” Her hand slipped off his chest as she stepped around him to press shut the door. Better safe than sorry should another come by.

The witch’s gaze fell upon his back a moment before she pushed off the door and returned to her prior position before him. Liars were such a negatively viewed thing when in reality they were far more nuanced. Why did Robot lie about who he is to his child? Shame? To protect Squire? Fear of rejection? Did the reason matter or was it dependent on the lies that were told? Silly Robot, every parent lies to their child to some degree. Not even Mortem’s own mother was an exception.

This must be the first time he has said so much about his partner. Carefully the witch chooses her words, not wishing to worsen his state. “She’s not here. You are. But that doesn’t mean she can’t help you raise your boy. All that you know of her can help guide you to seeing her perspective and teaching him where you believe you can’t on your own.”

There’s a pause, despite the comfort she is offering she still doesn’t wish to push boundaries where he might not be ready. “…If you want to talk about her in any capacity, I’ll listen.” Sometimes it helped to talk about the hurt. Other times it reminded people of the way someone used to be and aided them in moving forward. She isn’t sure what could be of assistance to Robot so laying out the options are the least she can do.

He was painfully aware that she wasn’t there. It was a sentiment that clung to him nearly everyday. IV attempted at times to remember what his last words to her had been-- he’d been a complete imbecile, letting himself be sweat away by the violence and the.. fucking.

He felt sick with himself

Their last words. It had to have been that stupid phone call, walking down the beach of Quietus. Stupid. She could barely hear him, and he remember feeling hollow as the connection broke. Had that really been it?

“I’m not sure what to say,” he said frankly. No one had ever asked him about her before. No one had volunteered an ear. The news had been delivered to him by that ridiculous associate on Sextilion. 

The shame rolled through him a little thicker. Mercy, did she want him to tell her about that? That as his wife had been getting brutally murdered by a monster of his own kingdom, he’d been receiving fellatio from some anonymous sex worker at a brothel? 

No thank you, he didn’t want to share that.