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Alice eventually goes home for the evening.
Bella goes up and sits in her room.
She has five hexes.
Five.
That's rather a lot of hexes.
She gets out her notebook, with the lists, and she makes some wishes.
And then she goes to bed, grinning.
In the morning it will be time to make plans.
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self_composed
self_composed
[Yeah. I'm not sure if this is positive sum so I'll start with a square in case a coin can only do enough to make a smaller coin - and I don't know how much this is gonna hurt.] She finds a ninety-degree corner on her necklace, debates how exactly to do this, and finally just wishes upon him plain unadulterated pain in whatever quantity squares can generate.
And she supervises, curious.
And she supervises, curious.
edgeofyourseat
...He bites his lip, lightly. It is a tiny bit uncomfortable to know that Bella won't like him getting off on this, but mostly it is really, really nice to feel that and know where it came from. A sharp little all-over sting, there and gone; he isn't surprised when he touches the new coin and finds a square.
[So, that worked.]
And now he is kind of a lot more turned on than he just was. Well, it's not like they didn't expect that. He tries not to dwell on it too much, in case she stops reading him again.
[So, that worked.]
And now he is kind of a lot more turned on than he just was. Well, it's not like they didn't expect that. He tries not to dwell on it too much, in case she stops reading him again.
self_composed
She doesn't stop reading him, but she's not directly looking at him anymore.
[Good to know. Anti-bootstrapping restriction only works on people who work alone.]
[Good to know. Anti-bootstrapping restriction only works on people who work alone.]
edgeofyourseat
[Maybe that's another reason why nobody else has—]
—taken over the world. If other coinmakers are all solitary types. Why is she not directly looking at him?
—taken over the world. If other coinmakers are all solitary types. Why is she not directly looking at him?
self_composed
She turns her head back in his direction. She's sort of looking at his chin, though. [Maybe. I still haven't read all the profiles. But Elias had - and expected to have - descendants. He had a family. I'm still confused.]
edgeofyourseat
Still thinking more about Bella's line of sight than her long-dead ancestor, he answers, [Maybe he didn't know anybody he wanted to hurt.] Either because they got off on it or because they didn't, but probably the second one. And likewise for not knowing anybody who wanted to hurt him.
self_composed
[I guess.] She shuts her eyes altogether. [The book doesn't say anything about his family, which is kind of weird. Maybe I should do that genealogy project as soon as I can visibly leave the house.]
edgeofyourseat
Bella is acting really weird.
Well, she can tell he's noticed, so if she wanted him to know why, she'd say. He shrugs and lets it go.
[Maybe he hated all his kids,] he speculates, smiling. [Or they hated him. Or both. But he still wanted to pass it down to somebody in the family.]
This line of reasoning makes perfect sense to a Hammond!
Well, she can tell he's noticed, so if she wanted him to know why, she'd say. He shrugs and lets it go.
[Maybe he hated all his kids,] he speculates, smiling. [Or they hated him. Or both. But he still wanted to pass it down to somebody in the family.]
This line of reasoning makes perfect sense to a Hammond!
self_composed
[That could be. He lived long enough ago that if he had, like, an estranged wife but he liked his kids, she probably did not get custody, so that's probably not it.]
self_composed
The oven timer dings.
Bella gets up and puts on oven mitts and pulls it out. [Charlie'll be home in about fifteen minutes, by which time the pie'll be cool enough to eat. And then after dinner we have a difficult conversation with him.]
Bella gets up and puts on oven mitts and pulls it out. [Charlie'll be home in about fifteen minutes, by which time the pie'll be cool enough to eat. And then after dinner we have a difficult conversation with him.]
edgeofyourseat
[Sounds good to me,] Alice says wryly; it sounds good only in the sense that it is likely to lead to solving a problem. Actually having the conversation is unlikely to be fun.
On the other hand, fuck it, he has an underground lair now.
On the other hand, fuck it, he has an underground lair now.
self_composed
[It's a pretty good lair, if I do say so myself,] Bella agrees. She turns off the oven and starts setting the table.
edgeofyourseat
Ooh, it's fun when she answers his thoughts like he said them out loud! Alice indulges in fuzzy feelings for a bit, and then wonders if she wants any help.
self_composed
Charlie arrives as Bella's putting ice in the water pitcher. He sniffs the air appreciatively. "Pot pie, Bells?" He looks at Alice, unsurprised, unthrilled, unreactive. "Laney," he acknowledges.
"Yep, pot pie," Bella not-quite-sings, filling the pitcher with water and plunking it on the table.
"Yep, pot pie," Bella not-quite-sings, filling the pitcher with water and plunking it on the table.
edgeofyourseat
Alice grins.
Are they inappropriately cheerful for the subject they will later be raising? Well, not like he cares. Pie!
Are they inappropriately cheerful for the subject they will later be raising? Well, not like he cares. Pie!
self_composed
The pot pie is gravyish on the bottom and biscuity on the top.
Ohhhh, it is good.
Bella sighs as she noms it, blissful.
Ohhhh, it is good.
Bella sighs as she noms it, blissful.
edgeofyourseat
It is good. On the border of sexually so, in fact. Alice noms pie, and smiles, and loves Bella.
self_composed
Bella looks at him just a little pointedly, but makes no objection, not even a silent brainphone kind of objection.
"This is real good, Bells," Charlie remarks. "Laney help you?"
"He chopped up the carrots, and stuff," Bella says.
"This is real good, Bells," Charlie remarks. "Laney help you?"
"He chopped up the carrots, and stuff," Bella says.
self_composed
"Well, this is a better recipe than the old one," Charlie says, nodding to himself.
Om nom nom, pie.
Bella puts out a bowl of grapes as a facsimile of dessert.
Om nom nom, grapes.
And then...
Bella wonders if Alice wants to start. He probably doesn't, but she checks. [You want me to take this?]
Om nom nom, pie.
Bella puts out a bowl of grapes as a facsimile of dessert.
Om nom nom, grapes.
And then...
Bella wonders if Alice wants to start. He probably doesn't, but she checks. [You want me to take this?]
edgeofyourseat
[Yes please,] he says.
Talking about his dad isn't exactly the problem; talking to Charlie about his dad is a much bigger one. He just doesn't know how. And he clearly demonstrated with Angela earlier that talking to normal people is not a skill of his.
It probably isn't something you can pentagon, either. Or at least, it's not something he'd want to.
Talking about his dad isn't exactly the problem; talking to Charlie about his dad is a much bigger one. He just doesn't know how. And he clearly demonstrated with Angela earlier that talking to normal people is not a skill of his.
It probably isn't something you can pentagon, either. Or at least, it's not something he'd want to.
self_composed
[Yes, pentagoning that would be weird as hell. Who knows what kind of personality magic would glue onto you.]
"Dad," Bella says, when the grapes are a bowl of stems and no more, "in abuse cases - like, domestic violence and stuff - how is the victim's safety handled in cases where the defendant gets off? Even if it's on a technicality or something?"
"Dad," Bella says, when the grapes are a bowl of stems and no more, "in abuse cases - like, domestic violence and stuff - how is the victim's safety handled in cases where the defendant gets off? Even if it's on a technicality or something?"