View source for 256/This Thursday, on the CW

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2015/08/06
|Location=Mitakihara/Pikarigaoka - King Penguin Park
|Synopsis=This is the most 90s thing ever. Mamoru and Kyouko dance in the park.
|Cast of Characters=38, 78
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>It's gone past 'evening' and is well into 'night'-- possibly even edging into 'late night' territory; the half-moon rose about two hours ago, and it's high in the dark sky, painting the paths and trees and grass in different values of the same desaturated silver-to-black scale.<br /><br />The park is so very still. Not a breath of breeze rustles the leaves in the trees, ripples the water in the ponds. Every now and then, there's the low cry of an owl or scrabbling of a rat or squirrel, or a night bird's sleepy call; crickets and cicadas are the backdrop. It is, after all, late enough that cars are few on the road and most of the people out are definitely taking public transit home.<br /><br />Footsteps on the gravel path. They're relatively even footsteps, but not searching, not hurrying, and not dawdling: just someone taking a shortcut, someone who probably thinks a can of mace will keep them safe--<br /><br />No, specifically Mamoru, alone, hands in his pockets and sleeves rolled up and tie untied and tailcoat over one arm.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The park probably seems mostly empty, given the hour, but it's not. There's at least one shape, a indistinct lump on a park bench somewhere along the path, near a path light but not directly under it. Drawing closer, it resolves itself into one Kyouko Sakura, sitting by herself in the dark and looking.. well, a hot mess is one way to put it.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She's still in her pretty red ruffly dress that she wore to the gala, but it's rumpled and there are obvious splotches on it from where all the cakes fell on her. Her hair is dishevelled, and her shoes (obviously) are nowhere to be seen, resulting in the bottoms of her dark red stockings being dirty and having several holes worn in them.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She's not crying, or anything, but she's just sort of sitting there, staring off into nothing, with an expression on her face that can best be described as 'miserable', her hands clasped in her lap and her hair pulled over one shoulder. She's almost unrecognizable as the brash, cocky, violent girl in shorts and boots who so often causes trouble around.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She does react to the sound of footsteps on the path, drawing up and setting her shoulders a bit- a reaction to possible threat, despite her circumstances. She's no so far gone that she'd let herself get eaten by some monster in the middle of the night.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>The footsteps on the path slow, then stop.<br /><br />Mamoru just stands there for a moment, regarding Kyouko with an expression that's too subtle to be pegged directly, but which has elements of both affection and the inevitable result of empathy.<br /><br />He's a little warm in the face and loose in motion and feeling after the gala-- well, after ditching the gala-- because to be perfectly honest, champagne. That word is also the reasoning behind his eventual greeting, gentle but not at all hesitant, not even remotely tentative. "Kyouko-chan," he says, and that's all.<br /><br />If she looks up at him, he's a little dishevelled and bright-eyed, and there's a better smile there, but most of it's in and around his eyes.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko does recognize the form of the young man as he comes into view.. and her posture relaxes slightly. She's still somewhat hunched and miserable-looking, but she no longer looks defensive. She does not expect to be attacked. Still, as he greets her with that smile on his face, a smile she's pretty sure she does not deserve from anybody, she looks away, turning her face so is staring into the darkness instead of at him.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"So, are you here to make fun of me, too?" She asks, her tone a combination of defensive and sulky, but with an undercurrent of actual pain- not because she believes he really is, but more because she just wouldn't be surprised given how things have been going lately.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>"Nah," says the high-schooler in the rumpled finery. He glances off in the direction that she's looking, more out of reflex than actually expecting anything to be there. "I was on my way home, I was gonna take the train. But then I thought, you know what, it's a nice night and I could use the fresh air. Drama can get pretty stifling even when you're the architect. So I figured I'd walk."<br /><br />His voice is mild, unruffled; his stance is easy. "I was sorry you left. You were one of the only honest people there," he says, looking back at her. After a second he asks, "Want to talk about it? Or a distraction?" 'Be left alone' is notably not one of the proposed options.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko glances back up at Mamoru for a moment.. studying his face as if trying to decide what his game is. Then she looks away again, perhaps because she can't figure it out. Then she looks back again, and this time her brows are drawn together in a slight expression of discomfort. "I mean, it's just.." She says, as if struggling to figure out /how/ to express herself- always one of her biggest problems, saying what she actually means.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"It's just nothing seems to be working out for me lately." She finally settles on, and again her gaze drops.. a defeated look on her surprisingly pretty face. (Surprisingly because most of the time it's un-made-up and contorted in either predatory glee or anger, and pretty isn't the first term to come to mind).<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I know I'm not a good person," She continues after a moment. "Hell, I'm an asshole. But it still just doesn't seem fair. I dunno, maybe I deserve all this crap." She trails off at the end into an incoherent mumble, kicking one stockinged foot against the ground idly, opening a new tear in the fabric.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>"Nobody deserves what happened to you," Mamoru says, abruptly fierce, scowling. He moves with the catlike grace Tuxedo Kamen relies on, and he's suddenly crouched in front of Kyouko, looking up at her face. "Don't you dare think that! You girls got a really shit deal, and that's not fair. You have to fight to live, and that's not fair. Adding anything else to that is beyond the pale. You don't deserve it! You ''don't''."<br /><br />There's burning belief in his eyes, and a weight behind them that it's doubtful Kyouko's seen before. The times they've interacted, he's been wearing a different face every time. All real, some more than others, but this is more than any of them. (Possibly because slightly lowered inhibitions means more honesty than usual.) He searches her face, her eyes. "The bad things that happen in life aren't a punishment for some random thing you didn't know you did wrong, and being an asshole isn't a mortal sin."<br /><br />It seems to occur to him /at that moment/ that he's close to her and intently looking into her eyes, because Mamoru suddenly blushes and backs away a little, clearing his throat. And then coming up from the crouch is too complicated while backing off, so he gives up entirely and sits on the dusty ground. "Uh, so. That probably wasn't helpful. I'm sorry. What other things aren't-- working out?" he asks lamely.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko actually laughs.. not a mean laugh, just sort of an incredulous kind of 'is this guy for real' laugh. Not that she's mocking his beliefs either, it's just so completely different from the sort of stuff she usually hears, usually thinks herself, that it comes across as shockingly unexpected. "Everybody fights to live." She says after a moment, looking back into his face, and in the depths of her blood red eyes he can see both the faint glimmer of unshed tears and a deep weariness.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"It's not that that bugs me, y'know." Her eyes dart to the side, and as he backs off and sits down, there's the faintest blush in her pale cheeks as well. "I don't even mind.. all of it. The Puella stuff. I'm good at it, it makes me feel.. powerful. It's just.." She hesitates, chewing her lip for a moment, again trying to find the words to express her feelings in a way someone else can understand.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Lately nothing has been working out how I want it to. Miss White used me, and I can't find any way to get back at her. Homura doesn't give a shit, and I can't make her. Mami says she wants to help, but when it comes down to it she doesn't really think I'm doing the right thing either." Her lip trembles slightly, and she slams her fist into her own thigh.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I mean, why can't anybody just be on my side for once? Is that really too much to ask?" She asks this to Mamoru, but she isn't really as she knows he doesn't have an answer- there's an exasperated tone in her voice, as if begging for an answer that's not there. "I feel like I'm screaming into the wind and nobody can hear me. And on top of that I can't even get my own damn Grief Seeds, I have to rely on effing charity." She heaves a slightly stuttering sigh. "Not.. look, I'm grateful ok? That's not the point.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>A rekt ballgown on a parkbench and tattered stockings; a rumpled tuxedo now decidedly dusty as well as partied out: they're a couple of teenagers who look like they had a spelunking adventure for prom, despite it being August. At least they more or less match, in that 'the end of the night before the morning after' way. And Mamoru's struck by it, briefly, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Sorry, I just realized we must look amazing right now. It's a super hipster aesthetic," he explains faster and faster, then waves a hand in the air to dismiss himself before reaching it out to lay, warm, over Kyouko's fist.<br /><br />Nothing really strange happens-- he's too tired, too spent. But there's a sort of calm about him, a grounding sense. "Listen," he tells her, "it's okay. I get it. I don't like needing help either. At least this is unusual for you, right? This is a low point, it's a setback. But-- everything cycles around, it really does."<br /><br />His hand slides off hers, but the warmth is still there, in his face and in the air around them, and it has nothing to do with summer nights. "If it's any consolation, I ripped into Miss White really hard before the party. And given the shit she pulled the other night at the hospital, and how badly it hurt her, and how determined she is to do it again, I can tell you right now that karma's going to get her back for you and it doesn't mess around. She's on a path to self-destruction, and you'll see justice done even if you aren't the one to hand it out."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko doesn't pull her hand away as Mamoru lays his on top of it briefly, and that strange warmth does suffuse her to some degree. The wariness and the defensiveness never really go away, but she visibly relaxes and her expression takes on a bit of a sardonic humor. "Dude, unlike you, I don't wear this shit on a day to day basis. I probably still look fancier now than I have in years.."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"And yeah I know.. or at least, I hope. I've been around the block too many times to believe that 'it's always darkest before the dawn' crap. Sometimes it's darkest before you die, and there ain't nothing you can do about that." Her shoulders lift in a fatalistic shrug, and her lips twist to the side in a wry smile. "But hey.. I ain't ready to die, and that's a fact. I'll drag the sun up with my own two hands if I have to.. that's always been the way I do things."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She glances down at her smudged and tattered dress. "Would have at least liked to gotten to dance at the party though.." A wistful note in her voice, "Ahh, but who am I kiddin'. Girls like me don't get to dance at fancy parties."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>"Hope's a pretty powerful thing, even if you die. When I die I'm going to make damn sure it's worth everything," Mamoru says firmly, getting up and cursorily brushing himself off, then offering Kyouko a hand. "And that's a load of crap. 'Girls like you'? Pretty? Clever? Alive and honest?" He scoffs. "It was just bad luck. Go with me to the next one," he says lightly, "and we'll fix this one right now."<br /><br />Now there's a devilish twinkle in his eyes, and that hand extended, and the beleaguered tux and his mussed hair only make him look rakish. "May I have this dance?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko looks honestly startled for a moment.. she's never been asked to dance, and in all honesty probably never expected to be, here or anywhere. She just doesn't think of herself in those terms. But after that moment of staring at the offered hand in bemusement, a small mischevious grin touches her face, that single fang poking out the corner of her mouth. A little of her usual fire enters her eyes.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She lifts her hand and places it in his, allowing him to draw her to her feet. "You know what, why the hell not." She says, turning to pull him into a grassy area just beside the path. "At least this night won't be a total waste of time."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>That glittering amusement of Mamoru turns into an outright grin when Kyouko accepts and stands, pulling him into the clearing. He glances down and then kicks off his own stupidly expensive shoes, then -- fairly sure Kyouko's got, at best, middle-school-social level dancing skills -- puts one arm lightly around her with his hand resting at the small of her back. The other hand just doesn't let go.<br /><br />He laughs, but it's brief and delighted, as he starts to lead them through simple steps in 4/4 time. "Here, just follow my feet until you get the pattern, unless you know this one already~ don't hit me!"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:78|Kyouko Sakura (78)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kyouko has zero dance skills, but what she does have is a natural grace and sense of her own movements honed over years of combat. And combat is, as many have noted over the years, very similar to dancing in many ways. She picks up the steps easily, without much need for guidance, and even when she missteps there's enough fluidity to her movements that she prevents them from tripping up at all.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Her smile is genuine, because it's nice to just.. relax, for once. Be a little silly, and feel like somebody actually cares, even if its some guy she barely knows in the park in the middle of the night in a ruined dress and with no shoes. It's a huge weight off, and Mamoru can likely feel her movements getting lighter as they go, as if she's literally shedding some of the pent-up frustration she's been carrying around.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:38|Mamoru Chiba (38)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>Audio overlay fade in for receding pan shot as they dance in the dark: Closing Time, by Semisonic.<br> <br>
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