coineater | Labyrinthum Inbox.

[He doesn't have to wait long before the door opens, so it's probably for the best that he wasn't trying to figure out how to look as cool as possible, especially since Cat is already squinting in his direction to confirm what he assumes. Yep, big with a ponytail, flowy clothes, and carrying shit. Probably raising a hand in a ~~charming~~ stupid little wave any moment now.

He draws back and rubs as his eye with the heel of his palm as if hoping that will help smooth out the look of annoyance he hadn't been able to rid himself of, and which had worsened as he tried (unsuccessfully) to make out Fang Duobing's face out of the smudges his vision still allowed. It probably just makes him look like he's cranky from being woken up. His eyes already have dusky bags beneath them that give him a look of tiredness that shouldn't be achieved by someone his age. With a sigh that becomes a breathy, forced chuckle, Cat pushes his hand up further to comb his fingers through his hair.]

There you are. [He leans forward, some life returning to him as he mimics a cat sniffing about to pinpoint its food sitting on someone else's plate. Has he brought the goods? It's too hard to tell if everything's there.

Oh, right.] Well, come on in, then! What're you waiting for?

[As if he hasn't been prevented from doing so. Cat moves out of the way and gestures for Fang Duobing to enter, his wave vague enough that it could be either at the kitchenette or the sparse pieces of furniture that make up both a living and dining space.]

[What is he waiting for indeed. Cat won't be greeted by a silly little wave-- if only because Fang Duobing's hands are presently full. He does give a little challenging jut of his chin, not that Cat can see such a small gesture as that.]

For you to quit stalling and let me set these down.

[Honestly, does he want to be fed or not? Once he's graciously allowed in the house (and has taken a moment to balk internally and the mismatched decor), Fang Duobing ignores whatever direction that wave was supposed to be and heads for the table in front of the couch. The things are deposited there, all accounted for.]

I hope you have cups to scrounge up or we'll be sharing from this wine bottle.

[A completely normal thing to say to his host.]

[Look, Fang Duobing can complain about the decor, but he's damn lucky that Cat turned the lights on in preparation for this visit, since he has no use for them himself.]

Oh, sure.

[He takes it in stride, already turning after pushing the door shut, fingers playfully drumming along the little, partial wall he now has to go around to reach the kitchen. His usual mug is out drying, and it takes only a moment to grab the spare and their accompanying plates. It's when he's about to set them on the table that he hesitates, wondering which should be set where. It wouldn't be something he spared any thought for, normally, simply handing off the more colorful mug to his guest and going about his business. It was a spare, after all -- the guest mug.

It happened on accident that it was almost exclusively used by one guest in particular. He wonders if it's a spare at all, or if he should mean for it to be hers, when she was so particular about her possessions and boundaries. She keeps her things well, he vaguely remembers being told in her response to gratitude over being a good friend to him.

...Him encroaching on what was hers wasn't that much better than someone else doing it, and Cat sets the colorful mug and the plates down while holding onto his own cup. It was the guest mug. He would get one special for her soon enough, he decides.]

Not that I'd mind. You'll be drinking most of it anyway, I'd bet.

[He leaves Fang Duobing to make the wine his business, instead going back to gently investigating what other little treats he's been brought. An apology strudel has to go away for Blue, but he has to find it first...]

[The hesitance would be a little strange if Fang Duobing had a mind to notice it. But once the things are set down, he barely pays attention to Cat's fussing with the dishes.]

[The rest of the room is just so... loud. Which might be rich, coming from him; but at least he has the good sense to be stylish about his choices. There's something inauspicious about the vibrant clash of color between the curtains over the windows, the mat in the kitchen and the sofa in the living room, which yanks at his attention no matter how much he tries to ignore it. The lamp is... remarkably passable, if the rest of it wasn't so poorly matched.]

[Little does he know how bad the rest of the house is.]

I'll need to, if I want to forget the things I'm looking at here.

[He takes an easy seat on the couch where he assumes the dishes have been set down for him. (Who else would they be for?) The wine is indeed the first thing he reaches for. He'll leave Cat to pawing around in the pastry box, which does contain a strudel--and five other assorted pieces that he honestly didn't take the time to pick out deliberately or even individually wrap. They're all just kinda layered in there, whatever he happened to grab.]

If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to put a curse on whoever walks into this place. There's not a single fabric that matches the others.

[Let his house live!!!

Cat seems plenty happy with the haphazardly boxed baked goods, which probably isn't a surprise, with how little he seems to fuss about his appearance or -- as pointed out -- the coordination of his decor. Picking out a pain aux raisins at random and folding the box shut again as he moves to sit on the edge of the table, Cat shrugs. He'd like to roll his eyes as well, but decides it isn't worth the effort or discomfort it would no doubt cause him.]

Go ahead and make it all match, then, friend. Makes no difference to me, long as it's on your budget, since it must be bigger than mine. Do things the proper way.

[Okay, he can't help the bit of a sneer there. Here he thought -- naively, clearly, since he was the one that invited Fang Duobing -- that he was done getting dogged for his choices.]

Do me a favor and plate me some of that watermelon, too, will you?

[That bit of a sneer gets a lift of his brows at Cat. Is there something wrong with doing things the proper way? There shouldn't be, but it's still enough to remind Fang Duobing that his host isn't in the best of moods to begin with. He's here to try and smooth things over, not give the boy another grudge; and to that end, he waves his hand a little as if brushing off his previous gripe.]

Like you wouldn't put it back the way it was before, just to mess with me.

[Being asked, as a guest, to serve his host is another of the little indignities that he'll grudgingly swallow. If Cat's impairment was any less known to him, he might have objected to that as well... but it's probably better this way. There's only a small press of his lips to express his annoyance, but he fishes a slice of watermelon out of the container he brought and puts it on the plate he assumes is Cat's. Another gets added to his own plate.]

There. Now tell me about this disagreement with Li Lianhua.

[The dismissal, meant to walk them back from Cat's sardonicism, only earns an unamused snort and a grumble, and the follow-up doesn't help any. At least that part isn't Fang Duobing's fault. Cat puts his mug down with a loud clunk in front of him next, a nonverbal demand for drink, despite his claims. He might not be keen on alcohol, but sometimes...! Huff. Maybe it will help, as part of the vent, or whatever this is supposed to be. Cat just wanted the watermelon he'd thought he was going to miss out on.

He takes another few bites of the pastry to give himself time to think, not that it gives him any more friendly words to say than what had been running around his thoughts periodically. He doubts that talking it out will do him any good, but at the same time, he's tired of keeping it inside since Li Lianhua excused himself from the conversation.]

I'm sick of him. He doesn't understand anything. [Frowning, eyes narrowed in frustration, he mumbles,] He always pretends like nothing's wrong -- until he thinks you are. Then he can't leave well enough alone.

[The aggressive(?) signal for a filled cup is met with an amused snort. So much for him being the one to drink the most of this... Not that he expected that to be the case. The drink is for Cat, to help him express what needs to be said, rather than curling away with it. He knows from watching Li Lianhua that doing that helps no one.]

[He pours the wine into Cat's cup first and then his own, listening as he does and trying to parse what he's hearing into something that he can understand. He's here to listen first and foremost, but that doesn't mean he can't help if there's something helpful to say.]

[It's just-- He doesn't know what that something is just yet. It sounds just vague enough to be any number of things, and listening to someone air their grief about Li Lianhua is harder than he anticipated.]

[But Cat is something like a friend as well, so he resists the urge to explain away the grievances and picks through his words carefully.]

He does like to involve himself. Or un-involve himself, when it suits him. ...What is it that he can't leave alone this time?

[There's a strange pang in his heart giving him pause, so he occupies himself with the watermelon this time while he tries to untangle that mess. Really, it's no wonder he doesn't want to share. Firstly because sharing has never come naturally to him, and secondly because...once he does, none of this will be his. Fang Duobing might lean into this cultivation business and tell Cat to wait, but more likely than that, the only thing he'll hear Li Lianhua blocking a cure. Di Feisheng assumed that objecting to Blue's aid was all to do with that, lacking the context. He wonders if Li Lianhua believes he thinks the same thing, rather than him just...quite simply being out of options.

Juice drips down his fingers, sticking up the grooves where they met together and reminding him that he can't just sit there forever, mulling over what he should say and the risks involved. If worse comes to worst, all that's different is that Fang Duobing will be kicked from his house, too. It wasn't like he was that interested in the fun antagonizing they did, or grateful that the man had made him outlandish promises with -- as far as he could tell -- every intention of holding true to them. He'll be busy cleaning up so that things aren't sticky forever and enticing ants, anyway!

Cat sets the melon rind down, replacing it grumpily with the cup. There's more red on it that he'd like, he can see now that it's more in his peripherals...]

My health.

[Cat mumbles the answer into the mug more than anything so that he can swallow his bitterness along with the alcohol. How successful that endeavor is is...questionable, as shown by the way his face scrunches from moody, angry teen with a bone to pick to startled disgust. The flavor is far better than what he'd had the last time he was out drinking with Fang Duobing, but it still leaves so much to be desired. Any intention of extrapolating is gone.]

Really! Why do you do this? You can't tell me you like it truthfully.

[Bleh!!!]

[He can see the way that Cat struggles with the question, when he's not hidden behind a mask or that device's little screen. Whatever it is... It's really troubling him, and not in a way where he's simply angry. Anger by itself is easy, and it loosens tongues just as quickly as the wine they've got in their cups. But when there's pain behind the anger, that makes it harder to speak the words out. Makes it easier to curl around them, like cradling a wound.]

[It wasn't so long ago that he'd had the same trouble; so he knows not to rush, knows to sit and wait patiently for something to shake free.]

What does--

[He starts to follow up on that crack in the wall that Cat lets him see through--only to get cut short by the unexpected outburst, startled into sitting up a little straighter, and then giving the other boy a skeptical look.]

Why wouldn't I tell you that? It's not the best quality, but it's fine enough for a few drinks. You don't have to complain that much about it.

[He reiterates his bleh! by taking another sip and making a new face, tongue included now for extra effect. However, it'll quickly become obvious that it's an exaggeration this time, with the mischievous glint in his eye and little curve at the corners of his mouth. Let him indulge in this play while he knows he can...]

Sure, it's hardly as bad as what they gave us at that tavern. [He can admit that much.] I mean drinking in the first place. Things would taste better without the alcohol part.

[Fang Duobing rolls his eyes at the mischief, clicking his tongue in what should be a scolding noise but lacks any real bite to it. If anything, it's hard to pretend to be unaffected when fighting some small amusement himself, once he realizes the humor of it. What a silly cat... He shakes his head in a gesture closer to fondness than dismay and gestures to the cup.]

You just don't have a taste for it yet. Give it some time.

[If they keep drinking together like this, he'll get there. Probably.]

[...Anyway, Fang Duobing seems to refocus on the matter again, losing some of the humor from a moment ago. Even this bout of teasing can't distract him from the purpose of his visit.]

What was it you were saying, about your health?

Hmph.

[Cat smirks into the rim of his mug, wondering what makes Fang Duobing so confident. Their outing before had been surprisingly fun, sure, but something like this wasn't something he exactly wants a repeat of, and he's sure they can have plenty fun without, should they hang out on their own some more. He almost...wants to take it as a challenge. But that would be as stupid as drinking too much would make him.

His stalling tactic didn't last very long, but even the brief interruption has him feeling more relaxed going back into the less pleasant topic.]

I found a way to get some real medicine for my disease! I've been making do with what a friend of mine gets me to manage the symptoms so far, but that's all the good it did.

[Not that it wasn't a lot of good, or that he wasn't tremendously grateful to Blue for her help. He's not sure ~~yet~~ just how poorly he'd be doing without it, but given how hard it is to force his body out of bed to take his medicine some days, he knows it wouldn't be a good time.]

Li Lianhua thinks it'll be a waste of my time. Tch... As if he gets any right to talk.

[god, wine is gross. come here, cheese danish...]

[Having a cure for his illness is certainly good news to hear, and Fang Duobing lifts his brows appreciatively at that. He knows how much it troubles Cat, and how much of a relief it must be to have a way forward. He thinks he understands how important that is, even without knowing the full picture.]

[It's abundantly clear why Cat's so up in arms about it, but even so...]

I'm glad you've found better medicine, I'll be looking forward to seeing you improve.

I'll be honest, though... It doesn't sound like something Li Lianhua would say. He definitely cares about you; he wouldn't tell you that getting better is a waste of time anymore than I would.

...Yeah. I know.

[His voice is quieter, this time. It's easier to ignore that part, because that's what makes it hurt.]

He doesn't think it will work. [ -- Tch.] Told me to think about what my sister might say about it to slow me down. You know, though.

[Cat turns to look at him, and his eyes are a touch more glassy than they were before.]

You know how she would want to try everything for me.

[Try as he might, Fang Duobing still can't imagine Li Lianhua discouraging this attempt to find a cure for Cat. Even if it didn't work, wouldn't it be better to let him try, rather than throw doubt on the fire?...]

[He would believe it more readily if the cure was for Li Lianhua himself, but not for Cat. But the way the other boy looks to him now... He sets his uncertainty aside for the moment.]

I would believe it. Who wouldn't want someone they care about to recover? Even I want you to try everything you can.

[And he's only a friend, not anything so close or dear as a sister. There's no doubt in his mind that this person Cat cherishes would go to the ends of the earth for him.]

... I'm sure it's only a misunderstanding. It's not as if he hasn't been in a similar place before.

[The memory of that time still stings a little, the old frustrations rising up. But he can't change what was done. He can only learn from it and move forward.]

We had a one-of-a-kind cure for him as well, you know. But he gave it away. He said there was only a small chance it would work on him, while it was certain to cure someone else who needed it.

...He worries about things like that, even when the rest of us want to be hopeful; and seeing things from our perspective is... difficult for him, I think.

Edited 2025-01-27 02:41 (UTC)

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