incomingchoppers | IC INBOX

Radar, for his part, is in decent spirits -- better than he was for most of October, anyway. No more hiding in the hayloft or deliberately taking on the worst farm chores just to be alone. Plus, ever since he clued in that Helga was pregnant (a little while before Mr. Rambo did, but it wasn't something that needed telling or fussing about until she was further along), he's been having fun spoiling her rotten by sneaking her extra sugar cubes and giving her the kind of nice, long grooming sessions that'd put the casino's spa to shame.

He's carefully detangling Helga's mane as Edgar approaches the barn, and calls when his friend's barely got half a foot inside the door: "Hey Edgar."

Bandit -- the Purrloin skulking around the barn that Radar adopted last month -- immediately abandons her attempts to wind around Radar's legs in favor of trying to trip Edgar instead.

"... Hey." He's getting used to how Radar always seems to anticipate things, but every now and then it still bemuses him a little.

"How's it going?"

"Pretty good," he says, amiable as ever. Helga snorts as he hits a bad tangle, and he lowers his voice, soothing: "Yeah, I know, you got a rough patch there, we're gonna go slow and get it smoothed out, okay?"

He rubs the bridge of the horse's nose as he glances Edgar's way. "How about you? -- Bandit, no."

"Prrr?" says Bandit, all innocence, from where she's trying to stick a paw in one of Edgar's pockets.

"Right," says Edgar, and bends to scoop up Bandit into his arms. "Come here, you little menace. Nothing in there for you."

Bandit does get a bit of a scritch between the ears though.

Bandit also complains loudly -- prrrloinPURRLOIN! -- and turns the saddest look imaginable on Edgar, even as he scritches her ears. You monster. How could you not let her pickpocket you. Not having anything in your pockets is no excuse.

Radar chuckles, sheepish. "C'mon, bring her over here. She can steal some of Helga's treats outta my coat, it'll make her happy. I'll bring you more soon, don't worry," he adds to Helga as he pats her side.

(He didn't say he had nothing in his pockets, just nothing there for her, so her complaint may be warranted.)

"Sure, there you go," he agrees amiably, handing Bandit over to Radar. And also taking advantage of proximity to pat Helga's mane.

"So, ah." Elaborately casual. "Din't see a whole lot of you at that casino thing."

He tucks his arms around her -- snug enough to keep her secure, but loose enough so she can "sneakily" steal something off him if she wants -- and gives her a little bounce. A couple Brass coins jingle in one pocket. Completely by coincidence, of course!

"Oh -- yeah," he says, as Bandit's ears immediately swivel toward the sound of valuables within arm's reach. Radar's cheeks flush as he tries not to grin. "I was, uh, upstairs with Dahlia and a couple other people the whole time. The room service menu was real good, so I just kinda... stayed there."

Around late summer, Radar started tripping up with increasing regularity, calling her Dahlia instead of Miss Leeds before correcting himself. He's barely called her Miss Leeds at all since the gala; he never corrects himself anymore.

"So that was, um. Your idea then?" Glancing at Radar sideways, uncharacteristically indirect. "Like, cause you wanted to."

"Oh, no. But yeah," he hastily corrects. "But no, I didn't get to pick who I was rooming with, I just got lucky -- but yeah, I was staying up there the whole time 'cause I wanted to."

Bandit wriggles her front paws free to plant them on Radar's shoulder.

Edgar really wishes right now that he had Radar's ability to pick unspoken thoughts out of the air. That no-yes-no-yes sure circled round to sounding okay, but ...

"Nice rooms then, huh?" he says instead, and underneath it something whispers Front.

Radar's smile finally dims.

"Yeah," he says uncertainly. Distracted, he doesn't even notice as Bandit hooks one of her back paws into his jacket pocket, rooting for the coins. "But... it wasn't like that. Honest. Not any more than the whole rest of the place was, you know?"

Edgar wrestles with what he's trying to say a moment longer, unwilling to give up just yet.

"Just, look -- if she ever, like. Tries to do anything you don't want. Or make you do anything."

(A few faces flit through his memory, barely consciously; people plucked from the Tail to serve the needs of the Front, whether they wanted to go or not. People who never came back.)

"You know you don't have to let her, right?"

It's impressionistic, like hearing distant music that doesn't quite resolve into a recognizable melody. But Radar hears the emotion behind it: the finality of a slamming door, cries of separation, the train roaring on without stopping as it smashes everything in its path.

He swallows. "It's not like that," he says again, quiet, but more firm. "She's not gonna eat me. She's not gonna do anything else bad or trick me or anything, neither. I know."

Will Edgar even believe him? Hawkeye didn't; not really. All Radar can do is explain and hope it's enough this time.

"She's -- she's not Front like that. I know she looks it but she really isn't, Edgar. I swear."

What strikes him in this moment is that Radar says Front. A word he was only barely thinking, and hasn't talked about much; a word Radar wouldn't have used in his own world. Wouldn't have used at all in that way, except that he heard it from Edgar.

If he'd come here fresh from the train, or without any memory of having been anywhere else, he probably wouldn't believe it. But.

"Cause you'd know," he says slowly, words that sound like they ought to be sarcastic and aren't at all. "If she was thinking of doing something bad, or tricking you. You'd know, right?"

Radar hesitates. Fever's awful twin flashes through his mind before he can stop himself: Are you sure? No room for error? Someone as sweet as you would never see it coming. And then there was what happened with Blanche, when Aster told her to wipe his memory after he overheard Dahlia was the Pine Devil, and --

He doesn't know, is the thing. Except for the reason he's always known he'll be safe around Dahlia. Him and her in the forest, Radar laying his hand on the snout of the Pine Devil as the worst of his fear melted away.

"Yeah," he says. "Probably. It ain't just that though." Bandit squirms, and Radar adjusts his hold on her, ignoring the plaintive whine as he knocks her back leg free of his jacket pocket. "She doesn't wanna be like she is. Her dad's been controlling her whole life since before she got born. He, he just wants her to be his servant, and she hates it and she's trying to figure out how she's gonna get free of him. If she was gonna do any of that kind of stuff to me, well, that'd make her like him, you know? She'd never."

He listens, frowning just slightly. And hesitates.

And nods.

"All right." Simple, and final. If Radar's sure, then so is he.

Radar exhales a long sigh of relief, big enough to make his shoulders slump. Bandit grumbles again as she almost loses her footing, hoists herself all the way onto Radar's shoulders, and winds around the back of his neck to drape herself there like a scarf. "Okay."

Edgar gets it. Radar's not gonna have another friend where he'll have to keep quiet whenever Dahlia comes up. This amazing new thing he's wanted for so long, so big he can't think about anything else sometimes, doesn't know how he can't talk about it -- at least Edgar's still okay with hearing about it. About them. (Wow, it still makes his heart flutter in disbelief whenever he thinks of him and Dahlia as a them.)

...In fact.

Now that he's got both hands free, Radar moves back to the stubborn knot in Helga's mane. "Actually, um." He clears his throat a little. "Can... can I ask you something? About dating stuff?"

Edgar's eyebrows go up.

"Uh. Sure?"

He keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on Helga, hoping it's not too obvious as his face starts going hot again.

"So. You, um. You and Max are seeing each other. And he's seeing a couple other people at the same time too, right? But not in a way like cheating?"

"Yeah." He pauses. "I mean it'd be cheating if, like ... if anybody thought it was just them, and he din't tell them he was going with other people too. But he'd never do that."

"Right, yeah."

Oh, he's so glad he's got something to fidget with while he talks. He untangles a little more of Helga's mane and smooths his hand over it.

"Do you ever... get kinda jealous of the other people he's going steady with?"

... well, now Edgar kind of wants something to fidget with.

"I dunno," he says slowly, "jealous like what?"

"Like -- oh, gee, I dunno," he groans, and lets go of Helga's mane so he can fold his arms on top of her back and thump his head into them. "Forget it. It's dumb, I shouldn'ta said anything."

A pause.

He lifts his head and goes on, like he never said forget it to begin with, "Only it's Laios. Dahlia's going steady with him too. And Daisy, but that don't bother me so much, but Laios, he's -- " Radar breaks off with a small, frustrated noise. "He's so nice, you know? And he's tall and he's a real-for-real knight and you wouldn't believe how good a cook he is, and I'm thinking, well, he's got everything I got but even more and better, so why's Dahlia even bothering with me, you know?"

It sounds pathetic even to him. How can he still be thinking like this when he and Dahlia -- when they -- they're together, for Pete's sake, he knows she likes him, but tell that to his bruised-up heart that still spooks at every other shadow. Oh, he really hates himself sometimes.

Edgar's only vaguely aware of Laios; he's seen him around, they haven't talked much. He frowns at Radar's description.

"I dunno," he says slowly, "does it matter why? Cause it seems like if she din't really want to be with you, she wouldn't be."

"I know, I know." Miserably, Radar props his head up with one hand. (Bandit, meanwhile -- sick of Radar moving around so much that she can't reach any of his pockets -- grumbles louder and steps off his shoulders onto Helga's back.) "I just keep figuring she's gonna come to her senses like everybody else does soon enough. She's gotta, right? If she's already with someone like that? When we were first talking about going steady she said she liked having a lot of sweethearts 'cause, 'cause they were all different. But it don't feel always like him and me are different enough for her to bother."

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