someday, we'll find it {justice. open}

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

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She had a latent memory. When Charlotte was a little girl she had been in bed. Tears were streaming down her face and her feet pounded in pain, Maestro never ever made her dance so hard before. She whimpered helplessly as she slowly started to sit up and stared down at her feet, they'd been bleeding and Charlotte wondered if maybe she had on her slippers if she'd have a pair of red shoes.

Every true ballerina had a pair of red shoes. In the ballet as well as the Hans Christian Andersen story told a tale of a young girl who was forced to dance. The dancer was only rescued from the horrible fate when the shoes were removed, in the story the girl's feet are chopped off and she is forced to tell people about her missing feet and warn them of their own red shoes. In the ballet they are simply removed upon a priest in which the young girl dies and the shoes are given to another hapless victim. Every real ballerina had a pair of red shoes, they never stopped dancing until some force made them stop.

Sometimes, it was injury and the dancer was forced to stop. Sometimes, it was for love and the dancer stopped in order to spend time with their family. Someone who truly loved ballet would know that as long as they could dance, relationships would always take second place to it. Sometimes, it was age and the dancer was unable to dance. Other times, the guilt of the shoes were far too heavy for some dancers to carry along their shoulders. It was so great—such a responsibility they were unable to handle they would have to choose between one world or another. Charlotte's red shoes burned hot like coal against her feet almost every day.

Charlotte liked popularity, she enjoyed being in the spotlight, and she even loved being with men but they would always come second to dance. She had to dance, when she couldn't dance she felt extremely guilty. Maestro told her that practice was important so she would have to continuously do it. It had been a year since she had seen them. She still felt strange without Maestro instructing her.

True, sometimes he would yell at her but it was when he didn't yell when she worried. If he got quiet she knew that he stopped caring about her. If he stopped caring that meant that he didn't have any hope for her as a ballerina. That meant he no longer so her fit to teach.

She missed ballet. She missed the stage and the people. She missed the clapping. She missed the roses. She missed Sergei. She missed watching his powerful legs as he leapt into a grand jete and the planes of his body. He was all angles and planes. Beautiful. Like a tiger about to strike. The young woman blinked. Why didn’t he love her? What made her so easy to hate? She quietly stared as she listened to her breath. He stopped yelling. She was worthless to him. She was standing off and away from the others as she kept close to the wall. Charlotte wanted to dance. She wanted her toe shoes.

Her eyes closed as she smiled and remembered the practice room. High mirrored walls, wooden floors, Sergei in the center. She bit down on her lower lip and the young girl slowly brought herself up on her feet. She needed her shoes. She swept her arm out and wondered when she could go home. Why was she here? She didn’t know why she was there. She didn’t belong there. Her dark almond shaped eyes opened as she bit down gently on her lower lip. Charlotte hoped that she would get out soon. Maybe her family would miss her.
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[justice]

Justice yawned. He was tired, even though it wasn't getting dark yet. He had been out in the yard when his eyes had started getting all itchy and scratchy, and he rubbed them as he sauntered into the rec room. When his eyes opened, he momentarily froze. Recently, he had started disliking this place. He always got a weird feeling in his gut when he was here, like someone had punched him. And his eyes were just getting worse. He shrugged it off, deciding that it would look strange to the other patients if he walked in and then out again without any real reason. Sure, his gut still hurt, but he had experienced worse when the bully groups had started forming in highschool and throughout and his five years of college. He had been so close, so damn close to getting that degree. Then he would have gotten a job and no one would have accused him of being mental, of being a pyromaniac. But he had found his old lighter, and he had messed up. He had messed up big time. He had burned it down to dust, so that it could never be rebuilt. His bed, that was. But then, the school had made sure to replace the piece of furniture before they chucked him into this place. It made him chuckle slightly. It was just a piece of furniture, just a bed, and now he was stuck here. He felt sorry for himself as he sat down on one of the beanbags, next to some girl. He leaned back, covering his eyes with his arm and sighing. The movement had shifted his nose cover a bit, and now it was uncomfortable. He didn't see why he still wore the thing, and his damn doctor continued to make jokes about how he was probably all sentimental about his burning days. Justice almost snorted, it just amused him the much. His doctor was such a cheeseball.

He removed his arm from its perfectly comfortable place on his face and readjusted his nose cover, looking around the room with sleepy eyes. He needed coffee. He hadn't had coffee in so long. It made him sad, how much he missed his coffee. And his peppers. Peppers were good, they burned his mouth when he could have never put a lighter in there without killing himself. Thanks, peppers. He missed a lot of his daily life these days. Lucid Manor claimed it was high-class and shit, but they missed so many things that made one's life normal. It made his ears bleed when he heard them assuring worried parents that their child would have a perfectly normal life here, his eyes explode into millions of little gooey pieces when he found a brochure for the shithole. Advertising; he hated it. It was the bane of his existence, falling right behind being stuck in Lucid Manor. The damn hell had ruined his life, it really had. And he still wanted coffee. He yawned again, making himself comfortable in his beanbag by curling up, greatly resembling a cat as he watched the inhabitants of the room with wary eyes. Poor fucks, they were stuck in here too, but he wanted to get out more. He was sure he did.

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

[/url][/size]
She wished that she were back home. Why didn’t her parents want her? Wasn’t she their favorite? No of course not. Franklin was their favorite. Franklin did everything right. Franklin was smart. Franklin was independent. Franklin could make choices for himself. Franklin wasn’t a failure like her. She kept her toes close to each other as she toyed with the bottom of her sweater as she twisted the hem with her small doll like hands. The young woman stood quietly as though she were waiting for her family to walk in and decide that they would make everything better. Everything would be all right when they got her. The young woman bit down on her lower lip as she felt her dark hair shielded her cheeks. She wanted to go home. She wanted to dance.

The little lady didn’t understand. She wondered momentarily if they would ever visit her. Her family had dropped her off and she heard nothing from them since. What if her parents kept her there forever? They couldn’t do that could they? Her lips parted. They wouldn’t care. She blinked as she heard shuffling from a bean bag and the young woman looked over at Justice. He was yawning. She watched him for a moment as she stood there quietly. Charlotte wasn’t normally quiet.

The only time she was quiet was when she was on stage. The young woman thought back to her days on the stage. A lot of people didn’t notice that the smiling ballerina was usually drenched in sweat and normally ready to collapse. Charlotte bit down gently on her lower lip and kept her dark eyes on Justice. She was lonely and she needed someone to listen to. Maybe she could find someone to give her orders here. That would be nice. It would be like a symbiotic relationship like a remora fish and a shark. Charlotte needed somebody to listen to and she needed structure. Somebody had to instruct her and tell her what to do. She smiled as she twirled her hair with her small hands once more before she slowly meandered forward.

Her small feet pounded gently on the ground and she made her way closer to Justice. She knelt down and crouched forward as she balanced on the balls of her feet. She smiled as she watched him and bit down gently on her lower lip. “Hi,” she chirped like she was in a far friendlier place. She grinned and wrapped her arms around her legs as she hugged them to her chest. She tilted her chin up a little. “Is your face okay, does it hurt?” she was talking about the bandage. Charlotte didn’t have much of a filter when she spoke. So everything she said that sounded rude normally had to be taken with a grain of salt. “My name’s Charlotte,” she didn’t know what kind of reaction she would get but she sure hoped it would be a friendly one. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/font]

[justice]

Chicken wings. He missed those too. He was surprised how he had managed to stay so skinny when every other night he would go out to some sort of store and chow down on chicken wings with his few friends. It was even better if they came with hot sauce. Lots of it. Chicken wings had been his one comfort for his college life, and his mouth watered a bit just thinking about them. He swallowed. Fish and chips... he also missed those. Dammit, it wasn't doing him any good to just sit here reminiscing about food! He had to do something, get active. He considered standing up and looking around for a puzzle to do, but then someone crouched beside him. Just some random stranger, no one he knew. What, had he done something to upset the girl? She looked like a doll that could fall apart or be blown away by the wind at any moment.

Why was she talking to him? Most people stayed away from him once they saw the nose cover. They probably just assumed he was disfigured. This girl was probably trying to be nice, maybe looking for a friend or something. It already annoyed him, and he considered just standing up and looking for a puzzle anyway. Though he didn't do that, he did neglect to answer her for a few moments. His nose was "Fine", it was his gut that still hurt at the moment. That gut feeling was normally described as instinct, but he didn't think instinct hurt this much. Whatever. "Name's Justice." He didn't see the need for all the commentary the girl was giving, but at least she didn't say 'nice to meet you' like all the other shitbags here. It wasn't nice to meet him when he would probably turn around and leave his conversation partner abandoned a moment later. None of them really met him at all, but in this case he was just too lazy to get up. Looking for a puzzle would have required a lot of willpower, and that was why he hadn't got up and left as soon as the little doll had crouched by him. He shifted a bit in his beanbag to look at her properly; before this point he had just been relying on his peripheral vision. She was skinny, maybe she had an eating disorder or something. He didn't see the point in those, never had and never will. It disgusted him, really. It made him want to leave all the more. But, again, that would require getting up.

Maybe he would get lucky and she would just leave without saying anything more.

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

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“Justice,” she repeated him. Well, that was a funny name. People gave their kids funny names. She wondered why that happened. Did parents think he would be a lawyer if he were to be named Justice? Maybe. Lawyer Justice. That didn’t sound too bad actually. Did lawyers go by their first name? No, it was by their last name. Maybe Justice was his last name? He looked East Asian, maybe he was introducing himself by his last name. Justice wasn’t an East Asian surname. She didn’t know. She didn’t care too much and she stopped putting too much thought into it. The little lady smiled, “Hi Justice.”

Justice. She wondered if momentarily what was wrong with him. What was his problem? She didn’t quite understand what his issue was. The little lady would have asked but she didn’t know if he was totally batshit and would freak out on her. Charlotte looked at him when he looked at her and the dollish girl pressed her lips together. As much as he was studying her she was studying him. His hair was dyed but she understood the need or want to stand out. The Japanese had similar hair colors, similar eye colors, were a similar height, and shared many of the same names. Everybody was kind of uniformed and standing out could be freeing. His hair was a pretty color.

Charlotte had always wanted to be a blonde but she wasn’t too sure if she would have the attitude to pull it off. That and dying hair could be detrimental to the follicles. It made hair weaker and it led to premature greying. If Charlotte was anything she was vain and she cared a great deal about her looks now and in the future. That’s why she was so skinny, she’d always been a small girl ever since she was born, but she was just a small framed creature. Ballet kept her in shape and she kept herself healthy. Charlotte never made herself throw up—thankfully as she had more than enough problems—but she never seemed to get too chubby.

Miss Fujimoto stayed where she was before she looked over her shoulder and eyed the other people. She was bored and this guy wasn’t the best conversationalist. She couldn’t think of anything to say without prying and she didn’t want to pry. Well, she did but she didn’t want him to snap on her. She smiled and tapped her fingers on her being. Charlotte asked, “You want to do something?”
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[justice]

Where was the need to repeat his name? Justice didn't see one. he didn't see needs in a lot of the things people did. He hadn't repeated her name, had he? No, he hadn't. So why had she repeated his? It was just a name, after all. There was no need to think things through, which he assumed that she was doing since she had gone so quiet. His parents had been odd, passing on his father's Japanese last name but giving English first names to both the children. After all, his mother had been born in America, but why not mix up the last names? It would have helped a lot in school, when Cecelia always had to be affiliated with her masochistic and apathetic failure of a brother. Looking back on it during college, he had felt quite sorry for her. And he doubted that he would ever see her again, either. It wasn't like he missed her or anything; they hadn't been that close ever since the forest fire. But... he felt bad. Different names would have just... helped. There wasn't any other way to explain it. And now here he was, being all hypocritical and thinking about names when he had just mentally berated Charlotte for doing it. He really was a failure, and it made him snicker softly, hoping the little doll girl didn't notice. Oh, nicknames. He had never grown out of those, never even felt the slightest speck of guilt when he assigned someone with a particularly mean one. He snickered again, then pulled himself back to the dying conversation. he didn't mind that it was dying, but the look on the girl's face said that she did. He didn't exactly want to make friends with her, but they knew eachother's names now, so he couldn't very well walk away without the risk of her blabbering to everyone about how rude he had been. There was the possibility that she would just stay silent, but he didn't want to risk it.

He was surprised when she asked if he wanted to do anything. It was the rec room after all, so there would probably be something interesting around here somewhere. He, obviously, was more interested in science books and testing than playing games with some girl, but... the blabbing thing again. It was like his mind was blackmailing him. Stupid. He swore it was because he was exhausted. "Maybe a puzzle or something?" he asked, yawning slightly. Bah, he could do puzzles with his hands tied behind his back. If Charlotte didn't like the idea, fine, they'd do something else. He just hoped it wouldn't be anything competitive; he always felt bad when he beat girls.

notes that was a horrible post... i'm sorry DX Justice isnt the only one that's tired

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

[/url][/size]
Charlotte repeated his name not only to muse about it but also for mnemonic purposes. She was really certain she wouldn’t forget him as he looked so unique and the bandage was a good indication of who he was. Justice, she repeated internally. She was more than happy to remember it, justice. The young woman brushed her dark hair with her small fingers as she twirled the dark chocolate tresses in her hands. Charlotte wasn’t too sure if he’d remember her name or not but she wouldn’t mind repeating it or giving him a nickname. She was okay with being called Lottie. Charlotte kept still as she watched him like he was an interesting new animal she had never ever seen before.

Everyone there was like a new discovery and she hadn’t spoken to a great deal of people. She was currently trying to seek out somebody with a dominant personality. He was way too quiet for her to lead her around but she didn’t think that he would be the one to follow. She had to find someone to attach to, she’d gone without having someone to listen to for so long. She waited for him to speak for what seemed like forever. She actually debated leaving him and trying to find someone else but that would be rude. What if he was just shy? That was totally possible—he was probably just very shy.

It didn’t even occur to Charlotte he wasn’t speaking because he was an apathetic man who would probably rue the day he met her she just thought that he didn’t know how to talk to people. She wasn’t the sort of girl to look for projects and help them out so she didn’t know if she could help him with that but maybe she could draw him out of his shell—just a little bit.

“I like puzzles,” she piped up cheerfully. She had never been very good at them but she would give it a shot. It was the first thing he suggested doing so she thought that maybe it was a step forward towards them doing something together. Charlotte was lonely and she hoped to remedy that. “Could you pick it out?” She asked because she was unable to make a choice and him deciding would hopefully give her a clue as to what he liked.
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[justice]

Justice liked giving people nicknames, just not ones that were based on their real names. The only exception was Cece, but hey, she was family, so that didn't count. He gave nicknames like kid and Cheeseball and, in this case, doll. he wouldn't mind calling her by a certain nickname if she asked, but no one ever asked for him to call them something. At least, not very nicely. They'd sometimes give him demands to call them certain things, but if they did that he was just all the more likely to give them a bad nickname. Now, it wasn't like he called people by their nicknames out loud. They had actual names for that. His nicknames were just a way of remembering people and referring to them inside of his own head, however rude they were. It was simple and easy, and he wasn't going to give up his habit for the comfort of others. If he ever started feeling guilty about the horrible names he gave some people, he might try to change, but he doubted that he ever would. He didn't like this track of mind, and stood up as soon as she asked him to choose a puzzle. Justice wandered over to the puzzle cupboard, shifting through it for a few minutes before giving up and snatching a completely random one, something with a ballerina on the front. He brought it back over to Charlotte, hoping she would like it. He didn't want her to get offended by something he picked out completely at random.

He set the box on the table next to them, taking off the cover and setting it next to the box containing the pieces, so they could look at it when trying to figure the puzzle out. "Do you normally start with the middle or the edge?" he asked, turning to Charlotte. He himself started with the middle, just for an extra challenge, but he had seen that most of the people doing puzzles in the rec room were starting with the edge pieces first. Personally, he thought that it was silly and much too easy to do, but he didn't want to offend her by starting without her opinion. He blinked at her, waiting for a response to his totally out of the blue question.

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

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Charlotte had never been one to give people nicknames. Nicknames were endearing and for people who knew each other for a very long time. Which was why she had enjoyed Sergei calling her “Nightingale” she had known him for most of her life and she was happy to accept the name he had chosen her. He never allowed her to give him a nickname—Maestro was a title not a nickname after all. It as his title and he had worked hard for it so she repeated his name with respect. Miss Fujimoto watched Justice with her dark eyes and she smiled.

The young woman followed him with her eyes as he walked away. She had half expected him to leave and the girl was excited when he walked back over to her. She gleefully rocked her shoulders from side to side as she kept in her spot. Wonderful! How wonderful! She was so excited that she would be making a new friend. Charlotte always assigned new people as friends until they proved themselves otherwise. The ballerina watched him put the box down and she reached out to him. The girl lifted up the lid with her delicate fingers and she stared at the cover with a smile.

How pretty. It was like he could read her mind or something. Charlotte almost missed his question. “Mmm? My brother always starts at the edge,” her nose crinkled in distaste. “Can we try the middle?” She had never started in the middle before and the idea of doing something new was fun. Charlotte lovingly caressed the box with her thumb.

“I’m a ballerina,” she stated like a seven year old who was showing off a new toy. “Really,” she picked up a piece of the puzzle and squinted. Where would it go? She looked back at him and the young girl continued, “Before I came I was in Swan Lake.” She was too before she screwed everything up. “I was Odette but then…” She frowned. Then Sergei kicked her out. Stupid Sergei. “Do you like dancing?” she put down that piece and picked up another.

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[justice]

He was glad that she liked the puzzle. Well, not really glad, but relieved that she didn't attack him for doing the wrong thing or anything strange like that. Some of the patients here were known to do that, and it disturbed him slightly. More than slightly, maybe. But Charlotte seemed pretty harmless, at least at the moment. In Lucid Manor, you always had to be on the lookout for the 'snappers'. Those were the ones that seemed completely calm one moment, maybe even in the middle of a good conversation, then suddenly attacked you out of nowhere. Justice had had that happen to him a few times, and now he was on the lookout for them everywhere. Hell, one guy had even attacked him in the shower. He didn't want that happening again.

He nodded when she said that she wanted to start in the middle. For just a moment, he felt a flicker of respect for her. Then it was gone. It was just a puzzle, for fuck's sake. She could have played eenie meenie minee moe and came up with the answer. Oddly enough, Justice didn't have even the tiniest hint of a problem judging people badly without knowing them, but he always mentally scolded himself for assuming the good things. He didn't know why, and he didn't try to fix it. It was just how he was, and if someone didn't like it then they could just leave him alone. He would be perfectly fine with that. In fact, he would welcome it. He wanted people to leave him alone. It was his idea of a paradise, a blank world filled with textbooks and only a few select friends that he chose to bring with him. If any positive afterlife existed, it better be that place.

"Hmm. I've never been to a ballet." he said, not really interested in her past life. They were all stuck in Lucid Manor now (even though Justice was going to get out one day, as he swore he would), and it was best not to blabber on about how good or bad your past life was when it was unlikely that you'd ever return to it. That, at least, was the way he saw things, no matter how depressing it was. It was logical, and logic could be depressing at times. Okay, logic could be depressing most of the time, to tell the truth. He didn't now what Swan Lake was, or who Odette was, and he didn't ask. He just wrinkled his nose, hoping to subtly convey his distaste. "I never learned how to dance," he said, putting about five pieces of the puzzle together at once and laying them down on the table, trying to figure out which part of the picture they would go into. "I never needed to. No prom date or anything."

notes i'm completely aware that this post is ratshit XD i'm not used to this type of keyboard and my muse just kind of poofed. forgive me, and give me something to hit my muse supply with.

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

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“It’s really nice,” she was certain she would go to one when she got out. Charlotte couldn’t stay away from ballet, it called to her like moths to a flame. She had to find a good company to join now that she thought about it. One where she could happily travel everywhere and just dance. Why couldn’t she just do that now? Charlotte didn’t quite understand. She couldn’t’ begin to grasp why she was there. She wasn’t crazy—she wasn’t crazy like the other people there they were totally crazy. She really wanted to just be with Sergei or with somebody who she knew would care for her.

Why didn’t anyone love her? She mused on that and blinked a few times, “I love ballet.” She eyed a piece and then looked at the picture before setting it down, “I think it goes here.” She’d yet to meet somebody truly dangerous and she really hoped that Justice wasn’t particularly violent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t want to kill her or do something unspeakable to her body. “Not even to bob your head around?” Dancing was natural it was a matter of truly nurturing it. Even children would dance when they heard something that they liked. She never believed it when people said that they couldn’t dance.

“Nobody went to prom with you?” she had gone. She’d gone with her brother—he couldn’t choose between girls and she had no date so he took her. it was a lovely night and she had so much fun. “That’s kind of sad,” she thought so. “Unless it doesn’t bother you.” She tried to piece together something she thought would fit but they just looked similar so she stuck out her tongue.

Charlotte glanced over to what he had done so far. He had five pieces but it doesn’t seem like he had any luck. She frowned and looked back at the cover, “Hmmmmm….” Where to put the next piece? She picked up one that was pink. “This looks like part of the top.” [/blockquote][/blockquote][/font]

[justice]

He snorted. Ballet, nice? Gosh, the only time he had heard about one was from his college friend, and the story was that of his friend falling asleep halfway through. He hadn't really been to open towards them after that. In fact, when the school dance team preformed The Nutcracker in a mandatory assembly, he had skipped his one and only say of school in his life. And his friend had fallen asleep again. The poor bloke had refused to skip with Justice, his loss. He had felt slightly bad about missing his classes, but hey, he was already pretty far ahead of the learning material. Though one of his teachers had actually bothered to give him a scolding, he could tell she hadn't really meant it. He could have skipped class more often and they wouldn't have minded, but that would just leave him feeling guilty. Anyway, avoiding the ballet had been a good cause, so he hadn't felt too bad. But yeah, he wasn't really interested in the things.

"If I bob my head around I just end up looking stupid," he said, glowering. Justice had danced when he was younger... someone had made him, but he couldn't remember who. He had blocked out that memory for so long that he just couldn't recall it anymore. He chewed on his lip, deep in though, and attached a few more pieces to the puzzle. It was growing in size now, and he was glad that the doll girl was doing some work too, instead of just sitting there and watching. He shrugged when she got all worried about his prom year. "A few people asked," he said, wincing slightly. It had started off with some guy asking him to the prom. A straight guy, too. He had thought he was a girl. He had denied the few people that had asked after that, and hadn't asked anyone himself. That had been a bad week for him, and he didn't want to reflect on it. "No, it doesn't bother me," he said stiffly. Another lie, but he hoped she wouldn't be able to tell.

He shook his head when she tried to fit one of the puzzle pieces in the wrong spot. "Oi, can't you see the ruffles? I think it's part of the..." he stopped, at a loss for words. What was the poofy thing ballerinas wore around their waists again? "Er... skirt." he said, determined not to look silly. He looked around for a moment, then picked up another piece and held it out to her. "Pretty sure it goes with this one, then you can see the ruffles better" Sure, he was good at puzzles. He had loved them when he was a kid, and people had often told him that he had an eye for detail. Of course, he had growled that them for giving him a 'girly' compliment, and they had stopped saying it after a while.

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

[/url][/size]
He snorted and her eyebrows rose up gently. The young girl didn’t know what all of that was about. She wondered if maybe he was someone who hated it. She didn’t know. The young woman didn’t know. The little lady bit down on her lower lip. She laughed at his comment and her eyes closed. The young girl shook her head. “Well, I guess so.” She didn’t know what was up with him but she loved dancing it just came naturally. She twirled her dark chocolate hair with her small fingers and she glanced over at him once more. A few people asked ey? She wondered who those people were and why he hadn’t gone.

Prom was important. Maybe not as important as everyone made it seen but it was a milestone in most people’s lives. She had found that it was super important. She wished that Sergei could have taken her but that would have been improper or something stupid. The point was she had to go with her brother. She thought that his deflective answer was just something that he was covering up. Everybody at this place had something to cover up and she didn’t quite understand it.

What was with all of the secrets? She didn’t understand. She bit down on her lower lip and nodded. The young woman perked up when he spoke and was taken aback just slightly. “Part of the tutu?” She smiled and the girl nodded. “Oh, I think I see it.” She placed the pieces together. He was right! It fit. She clapped and then glanced back over at him once more. “Good job. Thank you.”
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[justice]

Justice noticed the repetitive questioning look on her face, but didn't care enough about the doll girl to ask. He could, however, give directions. "Ask questions if you're confused," he said blandly, not being too clear about whether she could ask questions about the puzzle or his personal life. Truthfully, he was tired enough that he wouldn't mind either one. Hell, he would snuggle if she asked him to, but he was guessing that she wouldn't. Always offer something if you're sure the other person will not take it. It was one of his little rules that he had given himself, to make him look like he was fitting in society, and to make him look nice. But he wasn't fitting in, and he wasn't nice. Whatever. People could learn that for themselves, if they really wanted to learn something about him. But no one did, so it didn't matter anyway, did it? No, to him, it really didn't matter about what other people thought. At least, he told himself that, but is it not human nature to care about what others think? He may have been apathetic, but he wasn't a sociopath.

He nodded. "Tutu. Skirt. Thing. Whatever it is, really. But you can see the ruffles." he said, raising an eyebrow. he wasn't asking questions anymore, but there was the potential for the sentences themselves to be questions. he just didn't let them be. He said it all in such a monotone voice that the question marks just kind of shriveled up and died. It wasn't his job to ask questions, so he wouldn't. There was nothing in it for him, now was there? No. It as odd how he could ask himself questions in his mind, yet not be able to voice them out loud. He just... couldn't. Because questions reminded him too much of the old days. They reminded him of the child he used to be, asking questions every chance he got, he was so curious. Ever since he had entered Lucid Manor, he was just... older. There was no either way to explain it. He was older, and with age came this endless tiredness of his mind. Like he just wanted to sleep and never wake up. No, he didn't want to commit suicide, but he was just done with his life. He didn't want to be here, and the only thing that was preventing him from turning into a vegetable was the hope that he might leave one day. And even that hope was fading fast. He nodded just slightly when she said thanks, distracted by some odd thought that he just blurted out a second later. And hey, it was in the form of a question!

"Do you think I could learn how to dance?"

[charlotte]

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
There's something that I'm supposed to be.

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He told her to ask questions if she got confused or not. Justice inadvertently opened up the flood gates and she offered him a dazzlingly sweet and sugar filled smile. Her dark eyes were sparkling—he told her to ask questions. The young woman watched him and the girl quietly kept still even though she felt a lot like wiggling in the spot and making little joyful sounds. Charlotte was going to do her best to not freak him out in any way shape or form. The young woman didn’t know if she could or would set him off. Charlotte bit down on her lower lip and she gleefully nodded as though he told her she could have a piece of candy and she was four years old. “Thank you,” she chirped. “I will.”

Justice might have regretted such an offer. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but eventually he would regret it. Charlotte asked all kinds of questions. She needed to have direction and structure and she needed answers. The young lady watched him and she twirled her dark hair with her small and pale fingers. The girl bit down on her lower lip. “All right,” she nodded.

Charlotte loved being told what to do. She was a bit of a submissive. Well, more than a bit of. She quietly nodded as she tilted her chin up and the girl watched him. She wanted to know what else he would do. The little lady picked up another piece as she bit down on her lower lip, “Tutu.” He was right she saw the ruffles. Charlotte hummed quietly to herself as she quietly watched him. She put that piece down and then picked up another.

Miss Charlotte looked back at him and she lit up at that question. “Yes!” she nodded eagerly. “Oh yes.” He could learn how to dance. She wasn’t that great of a teacher but she would teach him. “I would love to teach you if you’re willing to learn.” She found two pieces that went together and she put them withe each other but didn't quite know where they would do it was part of the background.
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