thelittlegirl | [rapunzel]

Something isn't right with Rapunzel.

Roy knows it'd be pretty bold of him to assume he knows what a real life Disney princess is like most of the time, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't, but under normal circumstances, he wouldn't know her at all. Darrow isn't normal and this weird bloody life he's found himself in isn't normal and something is off with Rapunzel, even if he feels a bit presumptuous to be thinking so.

If someone did this to him, he'd be pissed. He doesn't like having his space or his privacy invaded, might even headbutt someone who presumed to show up at his place completely uninvited and unwelcome, but he's here anyway. A few half-hearted answers to his texts haven't done a bloody thing to assuage his concern.

"Oi," he calls softly from the other side of her flat door. He raps his knuckles on the frame, wondering if she'll answer. Someone else let him up when he said he was trying to check on the girl with all the hair, some neighbour who also seems a little worried, which doesn't exactly make Roy feel any better.

"Are you in?" he calls. "Come t'the door."

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He sits when she does, waiting for her to tell him. Maybe it's presumptuous, but he's got a feeling she'll say something eventually and he wants to at least give her the chance before he starts asking her all kinds of questions.

Not that he would do that either. He'd probably just sit here in silence.

But she speaks and Roy's brows draw together and he says, "Fuck. Christ, Rapunzel, that's fuckin' shite."

Maybe not the most sympathetic thing to say, but he's not sure what else to say. It's shite.

The declaration makes her huff out a little laugh despite herself. She doesn't know how she made such a habit of befriending big, burly, foul-mouthed men, but she's glad for it. She probably needs it.

"Fuckin' shite," she repeats quietly, imitating his accent a bit as she forces herself to sit up next to him, slumping back against the sofa. Her hair is in loose tangles around her face because she just hasn't had the energy to brush it. Her eyes hurt from crying. She hurts in so many ways that her magic can't fix.

"I don't know to process it," she says as she tips towards him a little, breathing in deep as she keeps her eyes on the television, though she couldn't tell him what was even playing on it. "He-- he didn't have a happy life back home. He died. So it isn't like I can pretend that he's back home and happy. If he isn't here, he's dead. It feels like he died."

Roy has to figure it doesn't just feel like it, it is that he died. He's gone. If he's dead back home, that's the end of it, and it's so fucking final that it makes a pit open up in his stomach.

He hadn't even known the kid. Hadn't even met him once. It still feels like a blow, the finality of it, and he can't even begin to imagine how much worse it is for Rapunzel.

"Who knows how to process this sort of shit?" he asks. "I sure as fuck don't."

"The only way out is through, I imagine," Rapunzel replies, and then looks over at Roy with big eyes before tipping forward to rest her head on his shoulder. He doesn't seem like much of a cuddler, so she keeps it at that, leaving her hands sitting uselessly in her lap.

"I know that he wouldn't want me to be sad," she says thickly, swallowing against the quivering lump in her throat that won't seem to go away. "But I don't know how to not be sad. Usually, I try to find a silver lining in everything but this-- this sucks. It isn't even a cloud. It's just a big pile of horse poop."

Perched on her shoulder, Pascal lets out a squeak of agreement and turns an unappealing shade of brown.

People always say that. They always ask it, too. What would they want? How would they want you to feel? Roy doesn't think it fucking matters what they would want. Keeley wouldn't want to think of him being a sad fucking sack moping around this city over her, but he is anyway, because it's what he wants. At least for now.

"Fuck that," he says, almost a growl. "If you want t'be sad, you should be fuckin' sad. There's no rules for this shit."

Rapunzel shifts her head back to look up at Roy's face. There's something familiar in his expression, a pain she might not have recognized a week ago. She sighs and reaches over to take one of Roy's hands in her own, squeezing tightly as she rests her chin on his shoulder.

"You lost someone too, huh?" She asks quietly. "When you came here." She takes another deep breath and squeezes his hand again, pressing in closer. "I'm sorry, Roy. Life can be so cruel sometimes."

"Life can be fuckin' shite," he agrees, since she'd seemed to like the expression earlier. It's still a bit strange for him, sitting here with bloody Rapunzel, but he's at least gotten mostly away from thinking of her as a Disney princess. She's a human, just like he is, and right now, she's fucking sad.

He might not be much of a cuddler, but he squeezes her hand back all the same.

"At least you haven't stopped showering," he adds. "Figure that's the real danger point and you don't stink." He makes a show of sniffing the air, hoping to maybe make her laugh. "At least not yet."

"Fuckin' shite," she repeats, just as she had earlier. She likes the expression. She doesn't curse a lot, but it's jut vulgar enough to properly express just how much everything sucks. Which is a lot.

"Hey," Rapunzel says, letting out a rusty sounding chuckle as she pushes at Roy's side. "I went eighteen years without a shower and I smelled just fine. It isn't the only way to get clean."

She sighs and then looks down at Pascal, who is sitting patiently on her thigh, and reaches out to rub the top of his head with her index finger. "Pascal has been making sure that I take care of myself."

"Good lad," Roy says to Pascal, sometimes still unable to believe he's talking to a bloody lizard. But whether he wants to believe it or not, it's happening, so he figures he ought to at least be respectful.

"You feel like going out?" he asks. "We could sit on a patio somewhere, get a drink. Might be good to get out in the fresh air and sunshine."

It sounds like a stupid fucking thing Ted would say, which probably makes it the right thing to say.

[rapunzel]

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