[See, this is what drew him to Law so rapidly in the first place. Well, one of many things. But that passion he has for his interests is deeply attractive and really admirable. He's so smart! Rosinante only understands so much, and most of what he does understand is from listening to Law and occasionally helping him dig through some very obscure media in the library, but that doesn't keep him from nodding along and giving him his complete attention.]
Human bodies are weird. I have to say, even though I'd never want to be a doctor myself, I can see why it's so fascinating. So many things can go wrong!
[Like his own constant stumbling, but that's a lot less dramatic than, say, aortic aneurysm. And thank goodness for that.]
The most absurd things can go wrong, [ Law agrees, with perhaps too much excitement. ] And some of the most absurd things must be done to fix them. And to be able to do so many of them more accurately and safely with the human hand than by machine depending on which organs are involved -
[ He stops, then laughs a little under his breath. ]
Shit, there I go again. How do you put up with me?
[He grins down at Law at that question, then shrugs.]
I always find myself wondering how you put up with me, so I guess we're even. I love it when you get really into a subject like that, though. It's fun. I always learn something new.
[Which is why it feels less like he's indulging Law when he goes off on a topic, and more like they're both equally participating even if most of what Rosinante himself does is listening. Come to think of it, that's probably a big part of why Law does put up with him - he's a willing shoulder to lean on, a willing ear to vent at or just talk to no matter what he wants to say.]
Doesn't mean I know it all, just means I know how to know it. That's the trick. If I knew everything about surgery and anatomy, I'd be a surgeon, they get paid a lot better.
[At which he snickers around the cigarette in his mouth. He'd be a terrible surgeon and he knows it. Imagine falling on scalpels, dropping things into patients... no thanks.]
[ Law grins himself at that, keeping his own laugh to a chuckle to avoid setting his hangover off again. ]
Uh-huh.
[ He makes a face when the pleasant overcast breaks for a minute, the sun poking through, and pulls his hat brim lower. ]
Jesus...
[ - Oh thank god. He jogs the last couple steps to their building, blessedly into the shade of it, and beeps in with his pass. And then, you know, that reciprocity - holds the door for Cora-san. ]
[Ah, good to be home. He brushes past Law with a hand trailing across his shoulders, then gives a squeeze before stepping away and leaning down to untie his shoes.
The end of his cigarette catches across his shoulder in the movement somehow, and the shoulder of his jacket erupts into flame, but he's too busy wrestling with shoelaces to notice. Still a little too distracted mentally by Law to even succeed very quickly with the laces, and while on fire he also looks seconds away from toppling over.
[ Law lets a good 90% of Cora-san's clumsiness go without much more than a blink. Something you get used to. And then there are the damn fires and he wonders why the other man insists on smoking. He curses under his breath as he flicks his arm to let his hoodie sleeve slump down to cover his hand, and smacks at the fire with that while trying not to spill the last of his coffee on either of them. This has been a hell of a morning. ]
[Sometimes the smacking knocks him right over. Other times he seems poised to react, or at least to stand firm like the world's most stubborn brick wall. This is one of those latter moments, as he braces himself and looks at Law in alarm, then at his shoulder and takes notice, finally, of the smell of burning fabric. Oh.]
Oh!
[He'd join in the swatting but Law has it taken care of, so he flashes him a thumbs up, bends down to finish with the shoes -
And that's when he pitches to the ground sideways and somehow ends up on his back like the world's longest-legged turtle. But his shoes flop right off.]
[ Law comes thisclose to going down with him. Cora-san has a lot of leg. He manages to stumble out of the way, looks down at the other man, and just. Tilts his cup back and finishes the last probably quarter of his coffee. ]
[That worked out well, nice. He keeps the stub of the cigarette miraculously between his teeth the whole time, rights himself, and then takes the butt between his fingers and snuffs it out on the countertop ashtray. There, he's successfully retrieved Law, he didn't start too much of a fire, and all he lost along the way was half a cup of coffee and some of his dignity.]
More coffee?
[He's already on the move to start up a pot, given he didn't get nearly as much as he would have wanted.]
[ Law kicks off his own shoes with significantly less fuss, tosses his cup into the bin for the campus compost, and. Reaches for the arm of his sunglasses. Stops. Eyes the kitchen stools, considers, and, well. He already had his faculty boyfriend pick him up hungover from the fucking hospital. What dignity? With a huff, he drops his hat onto the counter, yanks off his hoodie, and lays down on the cool tile floor with his sunglasses still on. He should be embarrassed by how loud the following groan is, but fuck it. ]
Oh my god. I don't understand why anyone spends the blackout part of their drinking out of their own home on purpose. Much less regularly.
Can't say everyone's good at making decisions. I'm guessing it's not usually a conscious choice, though maybe for some it's a bad habit.
[Look, he's spent enough time around students of all ages to know that as brilliant and wonderful as people are, they're also just complete morons sometimes. Such is the paradox that is life. He gets the coffee out, pours it into the machine, spills some of it across the counter but nothing too crazy to add to his list of blunders in the last few minutes. Cleans it up easily enough as he talks, then looks over to where Law was, doesn't see him, looks down and - ah. Poor thing.]
Balancing needs and wants is tough. You've got more self-control than half the people I've seen around campus.
[ It's half quip and half absolute truth. Don't anyone ever go through his room. (Which is more his office now, for as much as he actually sleeps the night in it, but shh.) ]
Ugh god. Carbs. What do we have. ...That isn't cereal, I feel like I'd be able to hear that too loudly in my skull right now.
Shit. You're my hero. [ He lifts the sunglasses only in that he slides his fingers up under them to rub carefully over his eyes. ] Warm but not hot. Jesus. I stand firm in my assertion that the undergrads who do this every weekend aren't human.
[ Really he knows very well it's that teens and younger adults are basically elastic, but close enough. ]
They're also not likely to make it through med school.
[Look, he knows the statistics well enough. It's not that the every-weekend-partiers are bad kids, but most of them aren't serious enough to even get into such a demanding program in the first place. They sleep in, skip classes, come to him with desperate last-minute demands for help if they're even slightly dedicated while the rest never even show their faces inside the library unless dragged in by a friend. Not the sort of students who get top marks, and the medical school only takes those with the very best grades because competition is too fierce for anything less.
He sticks the rice into the microwave for long enough to warm it through, and leans back against the counter as he waits. He takes the opportunity to smile warmly down at poor Law on the floor, too. Even this comes across as sort of endearing, mostly because it's a rare enough event and he enjoys the opportunity to dote without being scolded.]
So if I'm your hero, do I get a cool hero codename?
[ That assertion brings a smile to Law's lips that tries its best to be a smirk and fails. What would otherwise be a sort of earned arrogance melts in favor of the fact that, coming from Cora-san, that's just straight up a compliment and he knows it. It's praise wrapped up in kind of a nothing, and that's what makes it sweet. ]
[ It breaks to a grin, though, and he pulls his hands away from his eyes and looks up at the other through his sunglasses. ]
Hmm. If you want one. What kind of codename would you pick?
Guess that depends on what my superpower is. And let me tell you, it better be cooler than warming up rice for you.
[Speaking of, the microwave beeps, so he pulls out the bowl, gives it a stir with a spoon to make sure it's not cold in the middle, and artfully (he wishes, there's nothing special about this) sprinkles the furikake on top, then reaches over to set it on the counter above Law for whenever he's ready to actually sit up and come eat.]
I know, it's pretty impressive, but I can do other things too, like shelve books.
[That's definitely even more impressive.]
What's a cool way to say - oh. Oh, how about, "The Broker." You know, like an information broker!
[That sounds way more important, very cool, and on second thought he regrets it because it's way too easy to make jokes about him breaking things.]
[ Law considers getting shitty with the other man about the shelving books comment, even if it is a joke. Needling him into admitting he does have a goddamned super power when it comes to his profession. But Cora-san picks up his own slack, even if he fumbles a little on the execution, and the words die on Law's tongue. Instead, there is soft laughter that he doesn't entirely mind rings his head a little. ]
You can broker information as your superhero code name and broke-r the villains' equipment as your alter ego.
Maybe I'll be one of those secret twist characters when it turns out I have more than one alter-ego. They might all figure out that the quiet librarian is also the masked vigilante, but it's just a red herring when he's the one behind every scene setting up everyone right where he wants them.
[He's animated as he says all this, looming dramatically and gesturing to show his expansive underground reach. Sounds cool! And not one word of it is serious. Probably. Just a big funny joke and not something he'd ever seriously consider if life started to take a darker turn.
[ Law smiles dopily up at the other upside-down during his whole spiel, utterly adoring of his grandiosity and just hungover enough not to hide any of it behind a smirk. ]
You'd certainly be the last person anyone would expect, with all your usual outward displays. Hm. I can see it, though.
[ He groans, though, before lifting a hand toward the other man. ]
I'd like to stay on the floor a few more hours, but I also know I shouldn't.
[He says, smug, as if it was all part of the plan all along. For his cool alter ego, it sure would be.
Rosinante extends his own hand down, having to bend somewhat to reach Law way down there on the floor, then firmly tugs him upward and catches him with an arm around his waist to sweep him into his arms. Sometimes he is actually capable of being graceful and suave, and it further backs up his point in this fantastical conversation.]
The outward antics are a distraction from what's been really going on the whole time. They underestimate me, and never find out the truth.
[Very funny, the whole thing. He laughs it off, then lets Law go so he can eat.]
[ Law would have thought he'd never be the kind of person to enjoy being swept close like this, that he'd find it unerringly irritating, but somehow, with Cora-san, it makes his heart flutter. Even if it does also pull another rush of red into his cheekbones and ears, and he finds himself reaching for the brim of the hat that isn't there before instead smashing his forehead against the other's chest. ]
Like I said... I can see it.
[ Help, he's becoming a sap. A weird conjectural nerd of one, but a sap nonetheless. ]
[ And enough of one that even though Cora lets him go, he stretches up on his stockingfoot tiptoes and catches the other's jaw in his fingers so he can press a kiss to his cheek. ]
So how do I fit into that little scenario of yours? [ He snickers, absolutely deflecting any further sweetness to duck away and heft himself onto a stool at the counter. Ugh, wow, that's more off-balance than he likes being. ] Am I completely oblivious, or in the know? Somewhere in the middle?
[He leans down on the counter, arms folded beneath him. It's a very deep lean but he makes it work. At least the bar height is easier than a standard height table for him, so it's a good compromise between their two sizes.]
You start out oblivious. But you figure it out eventually, and never say anything since you don't want me to worry about you knowing, I guess. And then later there's some dramatic reason I need to reveal it to you, but!
[He makes a dramatic upward sweep through the air with an arm, as if performing some sort of reveal.]
You already know. Cue music, or fireworks, or... something. It's very romantic.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Human bodies are weird. I have to say, even though I'd never want to be a doctor myself, I can see why it's so fascinating. So many things can go wrong!
[Like his own constant stumbling, but that's a lot less dramatic than, say, aortic aneurysm. And thank goodness for that.]
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[ He stops, then laughs a little under his breath. ]
Shit, there I go again. How do you put up with me?
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I always find myself wondering how you put up with me, so I guess we're even. I love it when you get really into a subject like that, though. It's fun. I always learn something new.
[Which is why it feels less like he's indulging Law when he goes off on a topic, and more like they're both equally participating even if most of what Rosinante himself does is listening. Come to think of it, that's probably a big part of why Law does put up with him - he's a willing shoulder to lean on, a willing ear to vent at or just talk to no matter what he wants to say.]
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[ Law laughs, softly, but still winces and brings up his free hand to rub at his temple. Ow. He gives his head a little shake before continuing. ]
You're the librarian. I feel like every time I have questions you've either got the answers or you know exactly where to find them.
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[At which he snickers around the cigarette in his mouth. He'd be a terrible surgeon and he knows it. Imagine falling on scalpels, dropping things into patients... no thanks.]
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Uh-huh.
[ He makes a face when the pleasant overcast breaks for a minute, the sun poking through, and pulls his hat brim lower. ]
Jesus...
[ - Oh thank god. He jogs the last couple steps to their building, blessedly into the shade of it, and beeps in with his pass. And then, you know, that reciprocity - holds the door for Cora-san. ]
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The end of his cigarette catches across his shoulder in the movement somehow, and the shoulder of his jacket erupts into flame, but he's too busy wrestling with shoelaces to notice. Still a little too distracted mentally by Law to even succeed very quickly with the laces, and while on fire he also looks seconds away from toppling over.
Seriously, Law puts up with so much.]
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[ Oh my god. ]
[ Law lets a good 90% of Cora-san's clumsiness go without much more than a blink. Something you get used to. And then there are the damn fires and he wonders why the other man insists on smoking. He curses under his breath as he flicks his arm to let his hoodie sleeve slump down to cover his hand, and smacks at the fire with that while trying not to spill the last of his coffee on either of them. This has been a hell of a morning. ]
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[Sometimes the smacking knocks him right over. Other times he seems poised to react, or at least to stand firm like the world's most stubborn brick wall. This is one of those latter moments, as he braces himself and looks at Law in alarm, then at his shoulder and takes notice, finally, of the smell of burning fabric. Oh.]
Oh!
[He'd join in the swatting but Law has it taken care of, so he flashes him a thumbs up, bends down to finish with the shoes -
And that's when he pitches to the ground sideways and somehow ends up on his back like the world's longest-legged turtle. But his shoes flop right off.]
Thanks.
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Don't worry about it.
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More coffee?
[He's already on the move to start up a pot, given he didn't get nearly as much as he would have wanted.]
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[ Law kicks off his own shoes with significantly less fuss, tosses his cup into the bin for the campus compost, and. Reaches for the arm of his sunglasses. Stops. Eyes the kitchen stools, considers, and, well. He already had his faculty boyfriend pick him up hungover from the fucking hospital. What dignity? With a huff, he drops his hat onto the counter, yanks off his hoodie, and lays down on the cool tile floor with his sunglasses still on. He should be embarrassed by how loud the following groan is, but fuck it. ]
Oh my god. I don't understand why anyone spends the blackout part of their drinking out of their own home on purpose. Much less regularly.
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[Look, he's spent enough time around students of all ages to know that as brilliant and wonderful as people are, they're also just complete morons sometimes. Such is the paradox that is life. He gets the coffee out, pours it into the machine, spills some of it across the counter but nothing too crazy to add to his list of blunders in the last few minutes. Cleans it up easily enough as he talks, then looks over to where Law was, doesn't see him, looks down and - ah. Poor thing.]
Balancing needs and wants is tough. You've got more self-control than half the people I've seen around campus.
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[ It's half quip and half absolute truth. Don't anyone ever go through his room. (Which is more his office now, for as much as he actually sleeps the night in it, but shh.) ]
Ugh god. Carbs. What do we have. ...That isn't cereal, I feel like I'd be able to hear that too loudly in my skull right now.
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[He says wisely, then sets the coffee to brewing and stoops to have a look in the fridge because he's pretty sure- ah.]
Still have some rice left over from the other night, how's that?
[Without waiting for a response, he takes the container out and sets it on the counter, then sorts through the pantry for the salmon flake furikake.]
Warm or cold?
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[ Really he knows very well it's that teens and younger adults are basically elastic, but close enough. ]
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[Look, he knows the statistics well enough. It's not that the every-weekend-partiers are bad kids, but most of them aren't serious enough to even get into such a demanding program in the first place. They sleep in, skip classes, come to him with desperate last-minute demands for help if they're even slightly dedicated while the rest never even show their faces inside the library unless dragged in by a friend. Not the sort of students who get top marks, and the medical school only takes those with the very best grades because competition is too fierce for anything less.
He sticks the rice into the microwave for long enough to warm it through, and leans back against the counter as he waits. He takes the opportunity to smile warmly down at poor Law on the floor, too. Even this comes across as sort of endearing, mostly because it's a rare enough event and he enjoys the opportunity to dote without being scolded.]
So if I'm your hero, do I get a cool hero codename?
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[ It breaks to a grin, though, and he pulls his hands away from his eyes and looks up at the other through his sunglasses. ]
Hmm. If you want one. What kind of codename would you pick?
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[Speaking of, the microwave beeps, so he pulls out the bowl, gives it a stir with a spoon to make sure it's not cold in the middle, and artfully (he wishes, there's nothing special about this) sprinkles the furikake on top, then reaches over to set it on the counter above Law for whenever he's ready to actually sit up and come eat.]
I know, it's pretty impressive, but I can do other things too, like shelve books.
[That's definitely even more impressive.]
What's a cool way to say - oh. Oh, how about, "The Broker." You know, like an information broker!
[That sounds way more important, very cool, and on second thought he regrets it because it's way too easy to make jokes about him breaking things.]
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You can broker information as your superhero code name and broke-r the villains' equipment as your alter ego.
[ And everything else. ]
Or vice versa.
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[He's animated as he says all this, looming dramatically and gesturing to show his expansive underground reach. Sounds cool! And not one word of it is serious. Probably. Just a big funny joke and not something he'd ever seriously consider if life started to take a darker turn.
Hm.]
You want a hand up?
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You'd certainly be the last person anyone would expect, with all your usual outward displays. Hm. I can see it, though.
[ He groans, though, before lifting a hand toward the other man. ]
I'd like to stay on the floor a few more hours, but I also know I shouldn't.
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[He says, smug, as if it was all part of the plan all along. For his cool alter ego, it sure would be.
Rosinante extends his own hand down, having to bend somewhat to reach Law way down there on the floor, then firmly tugs him upward and catches him with an arm around his waist to sweep him into his arms. Sometimes he is actually capable of being graceful and suave, and it further backs up his point in this fantastical conversation.]
The outward antics are a distraction from what's been really going on the whole time. They underestimate me, and never find out the truth.
[Very funny, the whole thing. He laughs it off, then lets Law go so he can eat.]
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Like I said... I can see it.
[ Help, he's becoming a sap. A weird conjectural nerd of one, but a sap nonetheless. ]
[ And enough of one that even though Cora lets him go, he stretches up on his stockingfoot tiptoes and catches the other's jaw in his fingers so he can press a kiss to his cheek. ]
So how do I fit into that little scenario of yours? [ He snickers, absolutely deflecting any further sweetness to duck away and heft himself onto a stool at the counter. Ugh, wow, that's more off-balance than he likes being. ] Am I completely oblivious, or in the know? Somewhere in the middle?
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[He leans down on the counter, arms folded beneath him. It's a very deep lean but he makes it work. At least the bar height is easier than a standard height table for him, so it's a good compromise between their two sizes.]
You start out oblivious. But you figure it out eventually, and never say anything since you don't want me to worry about you knowing, I guess. And then later there's some dramatic reason I need to reveal it to you, but!
[He makes a dramatic upward sweep through the air with an arm, as if performing some sort of reveal.]
You already know. Cue music, or fireworks, or... something. It's very romantic.
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