victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

Victor reads The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Grouchy Ladybug, and Where the Wild Things Are (thrice, twice, and five times respectively) for the girls, and she gives them kisses goodnight. Then she reads part of a motor manual for Jude (yes, but he requested it), and tucks him in, and then Anya starts crying and she has to go put her back to sleep (Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you See, read four times).

By the time she makes it to the couch, it's nine-thirty and she's yawning.

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"Maybe other folks can help too."

"Victor... I'm not trying to say that you should forget about those kids. They deserve to have someone remember them. But unfortunately I don't think it's possible to save every single person."

A long pause, as she gets what she wants to say in order, thumb now brushing against the side of his hand. "I know that in my head. Kind of. But the rest of me just wants to go in there, march right in, and save everyone."

"I know. And it's not a bad thing that you feel that way."

"That feeling takes over, you know? I just keep thinkin', I could organize a team, storm Los Angeles...."

"And then what?"

"Save everyone. Then go to Burbank, work on saving people there."

"That's not a plan, that's an idea." He knows she sometimes has poor impulse control when it comes to things like this, and he wants to make absolutely sure that she isn't going to run off and try to talk down the monsters without any solid backup plan.

Her eyebrows make that frowny shape, and so does her mouth. "That's true. And I can't just go and save every world when I find out they're in danger." She gives him a this-is-something-you've-said-to-me-so-I-am-repeating-it-so-it-seems-like-I-understand look.

And he gives her the I-know-you're-pretending-to-humor-me look in return. "That doesn't mean you can't help, but you've got to play by their rules."

She looks a little sheepish, kisses his fingers. "So if it comes down to it, fighting for LA... if that's what the other people who live there want to do, can we help?"

"That depends on what the plan is. And what kind of help you can even give."

"I wonder if they even have refugee centers set up."

"You could ask. See what you can do from behind the front lines."

"I think I'll do that," she says, scooting in a little closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." He picks up the needle again, continuing mending the hole in her costume, making short movements so he doesn't jostle her around as much.

"I met this stunning demon. He told me my future, kinda. Basically he told me I was awesome, but I have to watch my back." She gets off of him, now that it's worktime again, leans her head back, stifles a yawn with the heel of her hand.

"Did he get any more specific?" Still, he smiles a little bit, and not just because she's cute when she's tired.

"Nope. But you should see him, he's adorable. Green face, little red horns, red eyes, red mouth. He's like a work of art."

"Don't those colors clash a bit?"

"That's what I love about him. Red and green are on opposite ends of the color wheel. They make each other brighter."

He smiles and shakes his head a little. She's always been an artist, and it will never stop. "Plus he'll blend in at Christmas?"

She giggles a little, pinches the fabric of his shirt to move it aside so she can kiss the skin on his shoulder. "I suppose that's true, too."

He makes an appreciative noise, and gives her one of those fond I-know-what-you're-up-to looks. "You look like you're going to fall asleep on me."

"It's been a long week," she admits, pushing the gentlest of teeny tiny kisses to the side of his neck, right under his ear.