First Apple; Video

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[The feed turns on, the signal coming from Robert Lutece's console - and there he is, standing in front of the camera...in what appear to be Rosalind's clothes. They're a bit too small, and his waist is cinched in...he's got a corset on. Deadpan, he addresses the camera.]

Good evening. I am Robert Lutece.

I would just like to say...I am a complete buffoon. If I weren't so busy secretly wearing my sister's clothes while she isn't home, I might actually take a moment to listen to her. She's had a hard time of things during all this, and I haven't been nearly sensitive enough. I'm a complete idiot. Here I am, telling her to be more social...just so I can lark about at home.

I am...ashamed.

[Something is...not quite right here.]

Comments

Action/Video; tonight is a cuddles night omg i'm so sad vin look what we did

[dashesanddots]

[Robert makes no attempts to evade the punch. He deserves it. Honestly he can't recall the last time he felt a pain that was physically inflicted and not an atomic level of discomfort. The sting brings new understanding that they are here, in this one place, this one moment, not all moments like they were.

One place, one time, one life.

And now it was crumbling down.

He staggers back from the force of the punch, the inside skin of his cheek tearing against his teeth. He tastes blood. Robert looks back up at her wordlessly, holding his cheek. Expectant.]

Action/Video; we need hot chocolate or tea and snuggles definitely we have done a horrible thing

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[Rosalind can see that Robert is waiting for more. Waiting to be laid into, struck again, screamed at...but it doesn't come. Not this time. Tears well up in his eyes, and he blinks them back. He looks down to his fist, the discordance of seeing HIS hand instead of hers making Rosalind reel.

Robert might have been the one hit, but blood starts to trickle from Rosalind's nose, falling against the light fabric of his jacket. He speaks, voice cold and shaking, all pretense lost. It's over.

It's all over.]

Allow me to dispense with one more truth before I leave, then.

I hate you, Rosalind. More than anyone else.

Goodbye.

[With that, he turns on his heel, shoving past and leaving the feed running as he slams the door behind him.]