Difference Between Us [Ambrose & Audi]

Orange. She looked at him with wide, alarmed eyes. That was a weird result... She wanted to note it down, but for some reason, the look on Ambrose's face made it seem like he would not be too happy with that. She inclined her head and looked away. "I, um. I didn't mean to..." She trailed off, knowing that wasn't true. She had meant to, just not aiming for orange juice, only meaning to test if it would work... Why was he so miffed, anyway? It was just some drink, and one with refills readily available, anyway. She redirected her scowl at him. There she was, getting the tangible results she'd desired, and he was being... uncooperative and... unappreciative. Stealing away her satisfaction.

"Accident." she muttered darkly with a shrug. "Sorry."

An accident--?  He continued the glare but it lightened slightly with the return in explanation, relaxing to a normal narrowing of the eyes.  Without taking those eyes off of Audi, Ambrose dumped the tainted coffee nonchalantly over his shoulder and onto the carpet, then raising the cup in the air for a refill.  His caffeine high was already dangerously low because of this 'accident;' he needed more.

None was coming.

Ambrose lowered the cup back down, looked down in the cup, and tried again.  They were giggling.  He frowned, standing up from his spot and shoving the container towards the ceiling-- but, no good.  They were done with one of Their few blessings.  They were back to wanting him to suffer, one way or another.  And, somehow . . .  Somehow, this was connected to Audi's tampering.

Not having the energy to speak, Ambrose shot a groggy glare up at the invisible Up There, then towards the rat woman.  This was her fault.

Much to her annoyance, Audi found herself unable to hold his gaze. He looked somewhat... unstable. She fidgeted in place, turning her head so that he would be completely within the field of vision of her good eye. Just in case.

And for good reason, she thought, flinching as he dumped out the drink. She followed the mug with her eyes warily as it was raised and lowered. It seemed that it wasn't working like it used to... and he was less than pleased with the fact. Audi cleared a dry throat, trying to think of something to say. She had apologized already. What else did he want? She wouldn't have thought that it would be such a big deal... but now it seemed that the magic had stopped working. Hesitantly, she looked up to the ceiling.

"Are... they gone?"

"Never."  Only Their help had withdrawn.

Still glaring, though his eyes were half-closed, Ambrose propped himself onto one knee to better reach the ceiling, shoving the cup towards the ever-figurative Up There.  Fill.  Fill, damn you!  His vision was blurred, each rising and lowering of the cup slowed, achingly so . . .  He needed some damn caffeine, and . . .  They were the closest source . . . the ONLY source . . . damn Them . . .

His arm no longer rose.  He was simply sitting on his knees, staring up half-lidded at the ceiling.  Barely awake now.  Barely.

It didn't seem like there was a threat of retaliation anymore.

Audi tried to feel guilty, to feel sorry, she genuinely did. All she felt, however, was detached fascination as she watched him repeat the hopeless movements, over and over, with that growing weakness. Struggling to no result, lifeforce seeping out...

Just like the cockroaches.

Almost unconsciously, she picked up her notebook and pencil. Without even looking away from Ambrose, she chicken-scratched a few lines on a new page. But humans -- or human-alikes -- were far more complicated than insects. Not everything could be understood through mere observation... and luckily, she didn't need to cut him apart, either. Hopefully.

Clutching the writing supplies, she inched a bit closer. "What is wrong?"

Wasn't . . . it obvious? He . . . needed caffeine. He needed it . . . so badly, and . . . His eyes were now closed, darkness filling his vision, but he still clung to consciousness. STILL clung to reality. He needed . . . HER. He needed--

"Tired," he hoarsely whispered, lips and throat dry. Nothing to sate them. He felt heavy. His body was slowly reaching towards the ground, slowly giving up-- he couldn't, he couldn't! Falling asleep meant that they won, a different them than Them. The wardens. The asylum. He couldn't let that happen.

And yet, here he was, about to fall asleep.

Tired? Her fingers tightened around the pencil, and she let out a half-tut, half-hiss.
"Then rest." she suggested curtly. Honestly, humans and their problems. It may have been that he was not just making a fuss and stopping his sipping for but a minute really made him nigh-collapse; but if the drink was so vital, perhaps he ought not to offer it willy-nilly to people who knew nothing of it. Audi scribed down a few quick symbols, then tapped the lead against the paper.

As she continued watching him, she slowly began to feel a bit sad. She hoped he wasn't dying. Maybe he was a little dumb, but he was also nice, and it would be a little of her fault.

She leaned forward, squinting at his face. "What was in that mug?" Maybe it could yet be helped...

"Rest"?  It wasn't . . .  that simple; it wasn't . . . that . . . simple.

He remember sleep all too well-- the lurch of the drugs, the resisting, the fading out of vision all too abruptly-- and, the dreams.  There was a mix of dreams in it, too vivid to know when he was out like a light or out of the asylum.  Memories, too.  He polished his coins over and over.  He met Disaster for the first time-- and, on occassion, met Laughter, too-- over and over again.  He was captured by the wardens five times.  He was cursed seven.  Nothing good came from sleep.  And, all of it was involuntary, forced.

His eyes squinted, attempting to pry themselves open to no avail.
He barely heard Audi's question.
"Coffee . . ."

The reliance on one drug to another-- but, he would take it.

Audi wasn't a person who laughed often - but now, at that answer, she had to let out a low chuckle. Coffee. Now she was indeed pretty certain he was overreacting. She should have known it was coffee - it had been what seemed like ages ago, but her master did drink it, and she happened to prepare it for him a few times. And she knew it was no magic potion that Ambrose may require to live... just a craving.

With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet, then stood with her arms akimbo staring down at him sternly. Whatever little sympathy she may have had for him was gone entirely, but he was still her fellow by virtue of living at the Castle, she supposed. That, and her hand in his 'suffering', was why she was obliged to help. "I'm sure there is some in the kitchens," she said dryly. "Will you live until I'm back?"

He did not take the question sarcastically and managed a slight nod in return. Sleeping meant death. He would remain awake until she returned. No matter what. No matter--

Ambrose wobbled, crashing down on the hard ground. Hard. Dark. Cold on his face, too, though he failed to notice. He failed to notice everything. They yelled into his ear, screamed his head off-- but, no use. He was too far gone.

Ambrose was asleep.

It was a strange sight: his body, usually so tense and on-edge, was finally relaxed. His shoulders raised gently up and down with every breath; his mouth was slightly agape. The lines under his eyes remained but were less prominent, smoother and lighter. Everything was at peace.

(( Sorry, he reached his limit. Last post's yours. ))

Audi turned away towards the door only to be stopped by the distinctive 'thunk' of Ambrose's collapse. Heaving a sigh, she looked at him again, and her gaze remained there for a moment. She didn't want to think that, she knew it was an awful thing to think, but she still thought he was kind of pathetic. Was it so wrong...?

Shaking her head off the pointless musings, Audi took a step towards the door, still intending to get the coffee. But then she hesitated. It didn't seem like he would be waking anytime soon. There was no chance she would be able to move him, either, so all she could do was go up to one of the couches and grab a thin woolen blanket off it to put over the boy. And as she was doing so, taking care to tuck him in cozily, she felt something akin to kinship stirring within her. He may not have been particularly impressive, or much of a friend. Not yet, at least. But she knew that she would remain watching over his sleep, over her books and bugs, until either he woke up or she dozed off as well.

She went back to her previous location and made herself comfortable, flipping open her notebook again and giving the jar with the cockroaches an idle tap. As interesting as humans such as Ambrose were, there were things to be learned from the lesser beings still.