merry christmas; i could care less [ open ]

[postictal]

Who: Real Tim, Mirror Tim + YOU / Real Frisk, Mirror Frisk + YOU
Where: All the heck over my guys
When: 12/13 - 12/20
Rating: PG to start with, will edit for anything higher
Summary:
The Story:

[Just kidding starters are in the comments.]

[Let me know if you want something closed cooked up special, etc., or hit me over at arrpee. I will match prose or brackets!]

Comments

[postictal]

"Yeah." They can agree on that much, at least. Keep from getting killed, or Unmade, or otherwise incapacitated. It's miraculous that any of them have lasted as long as they have, but Wonderland lends itself to that sort of thing.

Impossibility. Miracles. For better or worse.

"You, uh...I don't wanna keep you," he says, gaze dropping to regard his feet. "I mean, I don't wanna make my Mirror...suspicious, I guess. If he's looking for your or something."

[unwoundtape]

Jay grimaces, rolling his eyes in the direction of the Mansion.

"He probably is." He cups a hand beside his mouth, conspiratorially. "He gets antsy when I'm not where he expects."

His fellow Mirror might only 'care' in the sense that he 'cares' about whether or not all the pieces are still in position, but Jay can work with that. He can even benefit from that.

And if he can make his own moves while his Tim's attention is elsewhere, all the better.

"Keep in touch?"

[postictal]

"Yeah." It's not much of a smile, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but maybe the Mirror knows that it's about as close as Tim gets, on a day like this. It's faint and it's barely present at all, hardly counting as much of a smile, let alone a display of genuine amusement.

Antsy. His Mirror. Guy's maybe a bit of a control freak, when it comes to lining his plans up? Who knows.

"Yeah. I will."

[unwoundtape]

That's a relief, and the fact that it's a relief isn't something Jay wants to think about too closely. He's got his hook into the apostate, and he's got a new source of information. Might be more reliable than his own Tim.

That's all it is.

He nods at Tim, turns, and starts toward the Mansion with his Real's camcorder in hand.

A few paces away, he stops.

He's no good at goodbyes.

He turns back, and in a motion he's never practiced before and isn't sure he's doing correctly now, he waves.

[postictal]

No Tim knows is any good at goodbyes. Whether you expect them or not, they always come suddenly, and they always leave you bereft.

The Mirror waves. One of Tim's hands slips from where it's been buried in his pocket, without hesitation, as he waves back.

It's not much, in the way of goodbyes. But it's something.