Appropriately Funerary [Cassidy]

[Oscar Leonhardt]

As “luck” dictated it, Oscar actually sported a grave, gloomy disposition that was quite appropriate for the occasion. During the bringing of the dead, the service and the carrying of the coffin to an open grave, he remained stoic and respectful, quickly distracted into thoughtfulness. The man inside the wooden box that was being lowered into the earth was his grandfather, someone he had never spoken a word to or even knew existed – until he didn’t anymore. The men and women whom had actually known him were displaying varying degrees of grief, but none of them cried and a few actually looked angry. The latter glared at him when they thought he wasn’t looking and Oscar could only suppose it had something to do with the inheritance the old man had left him.

The burial casket was a remarkably simple affair, exactly like a long wooden box with a touch of leafy detail added to its frame. The dirt was moist that day, for it had rained the night before and there was a strong scent of earth in the air. For the most part, no one really talked to Oscar, or his “wife” as an older lady with thick spectacles had decided her to be and the General didn’t make an effort to pursue more interaction. Whatever curiosity he had about the old man was being buried along with his lifeless body. He had gone 31 years without knowing and he wasn’t interested in starting now.

Oscar watched the dirt slowly being thrown over the lowered casket and he felt closer to his own mortality. He was struck with a queerly empty feeling and he felt detached from everyone and everything. If t had been his funeral, would there even be so many people present? They would probably write something concerning his duty in the military on his tombstone. As if any of the things he did were an achievement to be proud of. There were countless civiliants whose children he must have captured that would probably grab at the opportunity to spit on his grave and say “Good riddance.”

These were the kinds of thoughts that darkened Oscar’s gaze while he sat by Cassidy and watched the casket being buried. Soon the dead would be covered and left to rest, the crowd would disperse and go on, just because they had no other choice.

And Oscar felt glum indeed.

[Cassidy Morgan]

Stupid. So very, very stupid. What had she been thinking? How did she get so flustered in the first place? Why hadn't she kept control when she thought she had regained it? ...Better yet, why didn't she just keep her fucking mouth shut?

These were the thoughts populating Cassidy's mind during the doubly silent trip to Oscar's vehicle and, then, to the grave site. During the first leg of the trip - to Oscar's car - she'd actually held up under her internal mental self-assault rather well. Sure, it was a very short trip, but by the time they arrived at the actual "getaway" vehicle, she had almost convinced herself that his reaction to her semi-breakdown/faux recovery was what she wanted. It was better that way. ...Wasn't it?

Her momentary picture through the looking glass shattered when, despite his silence, he acted the gentlemen's part and held the door open. She was thankful for the veil, because it hid most of her shock (though her initial pause of surprise at the gesture would have been noticed.) By the time she'd gotten in, there was a new siege going on internally, and her nerves had gotten so bad that she had to press her hands, hard, down into her lap to keep them from shaking.

~*~ Idiot! Cassidy, you are such a freakin' idiot! What the hell made you think he deserved that!? "Just being nice"? AT LEAST HE WAS BEING NICE! How often does THAT actually occur from anyone? Ha! And he had it right, too, didn't he? You're so damn keen on ruining it from the very beginning! Ruining everything. And it looks like it's a resounding success this time! Ruined. He's not even gonna talk to you again. Ever. Waaaay to go. It was a brilliant performance, really.~*~

And that was just a portion of it. All the way to the cemetery. Non-stop, and full force; second-guessing and magical regret. By the time they arrived, she'd worked herself into such an internal fit that when the elderly lady referred to her as Oscar's wife, she had to bite her tongue just to try (and essentially fail) to choke back a sob. While none of the actual guests were shedding tears for the departed, Cassidy was managing to provide a fountain of her own, though she was, at least, considerate enough to keep it relatively silent. (Not that that kept away any additional staring in her direction.) The veil kept the mess that was previously Angela's darling make-up job from being seen... and that was just about the only thing the purple-haired woman was thankful for. It was certainly problematic, for the more tears that came, the more she was sure that it would be interpreted, by Oscar, as a terrible "acting job" put on by her, just to play along with the situation. Or worse yet, just to try and embarrass him. The revolving door kept the flow free until the dirt began to be shoveled - because, by that time, she essentially had no more tears to cry.

((Not sure how far to go into the event itself, so sorry for the shortness. LoL. As such, I'll just say she would be very delayed in standing up when it seems "time to go." And... I'm also considering having one of the guests being the politician that was her ex-husband??? >_> Cancel that idea if you don't like it. LoL.))

[Oscar Leonhardt]

When Oscar finally managed to crawl back out from within his line of dark musings, he noticed the quiet sobbing happening beside him. He blinked once in surprise, gazing to the side from the corner of his eye at the strangely mournful woman and he wasn’t the only one questioning her display of emotion. What connection could she possibly have had to the stiff to suffer so much for his passing? – Was a question that was written on the strangers’ foreheads. For his part, Oscar did not believe her sobs an act to suit the play. It would have been inappropriate, given the path their interaction had taken. For a quiet moment, during which the only real sound was the thud of dirt on wooden surface, the General lowered his face in his palm and kept it there, appearing tired or aggrieved to anyone who didn’t know better.

Although the murmurs of woe from Cassidy had stopped, they had accomplished an effect. Oscar was prompted to think back and reconsider everything. From what Angela had told him, to the first day of his and Cassidy’s meeting, to the contradictory behavior she had displayed all day. At the end of it, he could see Angela, with her mouse heart but unshakeable loyalty, wagging a finger at him disapprovingly.

Oscar was smiling, absurdly, by the time the casket was fully buried. The people gathered were already starting to scatter, all with gazes more or less lost concerning what to do next. Funerals had that effect on people. Some of the present gathered together, to share private thoughts and condolences and urge each other to move away from the grave. Others just stood where they were, absently gazing at nothing. Oscar and Cassidy were avoided and left to the privacy of their own bubble next to the finished grave.

With a heavy sigh, Oscar dropped a hand on Cassidy’s head and drew her towards him so that they ended up being shoulder to shoulder and head against head, his own tilting towards her to accommodate the position. He was staring at the grave with calm eyes. “You cried so much today I bet everyone is thinking you must’ve been his mistress.” Oscar sounded amused, but only half-way so, the other half was simply quiet. His hand lowered from her head and came to rest on her arm, still holding her close. “But we both know that’s not the case.”

He drew his head back slightly and looked to her. With his free hand he would attempt to lift her veil away so he could see her eyes. “So tell me, why are you really upset?” The look in his eye was kind, and the natural warmth he had first greeted her with was back again. “I must be stupid or something, because I still like you, silly woman.”

And he was smiling.



((It wasn't short! It was just right. And throw anything you like at me! *suits up, boxing gloves and all*))

[Cassidy Morgan]

At Oscar's heavy sigh, Cassidy winced and tensed up. Feeling that "the end" of this little "adventure" was upon her, she had, in the waning few moments, prepared herself for... something. Some kind of backlash; a calling out of her rather miserable display, or, perhaps, given the "General form" Oscar had last exhibited, perhaps a military-style dressing down right there in front of the semi-dispersing crowd. She wasn't actually sure what she was expecting, but she was expecting something negative. But instead of some form of punishment, he pulled her close, effectively into a half-hug, and... she wasn't at all sure what to say or do. At the "joke" about her potentially being his grandfather's mistress, she effectively choked. The reaction was such because, given her reputation, such a thought was not really out of the realm of possibilities. If it had been as little as two and a half years prior, the shame of how true such a "what if" statement was might have completely swallowed her. Thankfully, she was quite removed from that story of her past and was able to maintain beyond the choke. It also helped, tremendously, when Oscar discredited the "joke" only a few seconds later.

In a way, once she had un-tensed, she seemed somewhat made of putty. She was paralyzed as he asked his question, called himself "stupid", and then confessing that he still liked her. She wanted to try and keep him from lifting the veil, but she seemed to lack the energy to do anything other than offer a futile lifting of her hand towards his arm. The make up was a mess, for she had truly "ruined" it - like everything else, so far, that day - and her eyes, red from the tears, only emphasized what a mess it was. With all the leaking she'd been doing, she found it hard to respond to him, at first. Her throat was dry, and she ended up sniffing and swallowing before she could actually speak. And when she did manage a few words, she sounded like she had a cold.

"I don'd... I can'd... I mean... ...Why? How? After... earlier, I..."

It was mostly a jumbled mess, when it came to trying to properly craft a response. She wanted to give him an actual reply, to try and explain her apprehension, but on the other hand, there remained a measure of disbelief. In a way, she'd begun to view the "offer" Oscar had made back at her house as the "second chance" that she had, for so long, thought herself most unworthy of. And she'd driven that into the ground. Why should she deserve a "second chance" at that second chance? It seemed... ludicrous. Too "lucky"; too fortunate a turn of events, for her of all people, and... morbidly wrong for their surroundings. She was also worried that she was likely misinterpreting it, anyway, and, more so, worried about getting tangled up in herself and ruining it all once again.

But she wouldn't get that chance. Not at this time, anyway. A voice came from behind them.

"What an unpleasant surprise. I thought I recognized that form and that hair. Tch, this is not the picture that should be present at the funeral of a patriot, nor is it proper that it appears as a ball and chain on the arm of one so distinguished in his service record."

It was a trio that approached from behind. The most noticeable figure, at first, was a very large, black-suited, dark sunglasses wearing, buzz-cut sporting bodyguard. The second (and, in his own mind, the most important) figure, was that of Gregory Roman. Clad in a charcoal gray tailored suit with a silver tie and diamond cuff links, the man approaching was a career politician known in the appropriate circles to be of the highest anti-mutant sentiment and, recently, it was known that he would be engaging in a political campaign for the mayorship of Endonia. He was in his early forties, by age, but money was able to hide age very well. His hair, jet black and cut wash-board stern short, was not even "peppered"; his goatee was expertly trimmed and, due to the shape of his face, almost sinister in its framing of his mock smile. What was, at least on this immediate first appearance, unknown to everyone except Roman and Cassidy, was that the purple-haired woman was also his ex-wife. Her mess of misery appearance clashed exceptionally with the third individual in the approaching trio - a "diamond doll" trophy wife of a blonde, dazzling in gaudy jewelry that honestly had no place at a funeral, and seemingly not three days over the legal age. In and of itself, it seemed... scandalous.

"Oh... God," she whispered, turning pale enough that her whiteness overpowered her makeup. "Let's just... can we... just... leave? Go?"

"I offer my condolences, General," Roman continued, his tone a venomous sort of honey. "For your loss, for our loss. Your grandfather was a wonderful asset to me in my up and coming years, as you may or may not know. Excellent man for the important field work needed in any political campaign. Not that we always saw eye to eye, but I'd be incorrect if I didn't name him one of my "mentors." Ha! It's truly an unfortunate thing. Just the other day, I was thinking of calling him up and asking him to come aboard for "one more ride!" I'd also like to say that you're an honor on his name, what with your contributions to society's safety... if you understand my meaning. But that-" And his eyes landed squarely on Cassidy. "-is a rather unfortunate sight. And I surely don't mean the face paint."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

When she became like putty, Oscar supported her, waiting for more words after the string of negatives and questions. Truthfully, he had no idea himself, but there was just something instantly endearing about her, despite the emotional behavior. Maybe because of it? It was… refreshing to have someone so honest around, even if that honesty turned into a fountain of tears.

There would be more privacy forthcoming for someone started talking to their backs. Oscar turned them both around slowly on reflex and quirked a brow at the initially unfamiliar man he soon recognized as a politician. What was his name again? Roman… something. Oscar had never paid much attention to the political side of the Government, unless he absolutely had to, and being away from the country so often made it pretty irrelevant. The few days of his return had been spent getting back in touch with Endonia’s restaurants and resident mutant captives, political affairs would have come later. Overall, the unfriendly smile, rude greeting and inappropriate looking companionship this man displayed rubbed Oscar a million wrong ways already.

He wasn’t the first to speak, however. Cassidy seemed to react a lot more vividly to the politician’s presence. Clearly, the two had some prior acquaintance. Oscar’s gaze became stony and his hand slipped from Cassidy’s arm to twine with his other behind his back. He didn’t know what was worse – the fake condolences, the fact that this snake knew more of his grandfather than he did, the very IDEA that his grandfather had known of HIM but left him and his mother struggle just to stay alive, or the sight of a random stranger coming to insult him to his face at a relative’s funeral. It was very hard to pick.

“Are you certain? I believe the unfortunate sight is standing before me. It’s rare to see a politician quite so tactless. I believe you need that skill in your choice of career.” Oscar narrowed his eye pointedly. “Or is it just me that you’d like to antagonize? I don’t believe we’ve even exchanged greetings before so you could have the excuse of not liking the sound of my tone.” Oscar’s head tilted very slightly and his gaze flipped to the bodyguard and then the blonde doll before returning to Roman. “it seems your choice of company is in no position to advise you, so allow me the pleasure: It’s both unwise and I’d say, morbidly impolite, to insult one’s company before the fresh grave of a relative – a mutual connection, in this case.”

Oscar corrected the tilt of his head, staring at Roman squarely. “Alas, I believe I’m quite done in teaching you propriety, so unless there’s another mater you would like to discuss, that doesn’t attempt to belittle my company –and by extension, me- I shall leave you to your grief, for which, you have my condolences.” Deserved, for whatever connection the prim and proper dressed man had to his grandfather, it was more than Oscar had in his dreams.

Oscar’s arm came around Cassidy’s shoulders again and the look he sent Roman was decidedly neutral.


((*falls in love with Gregory* Gosh, he’s so wonderfully awful. <3 <3))

[Cassidy Morgan]

At the removal of Oscar's arm, Cassidy nearly took a spill. So... repulsed was she, by the presence of the individual (never mind his accomplices), that the sudden lack of support nearly had her falling head-over-heels - and not because of any kind of love. Luckily, she managed to catch herself, quite literally on the edge of her seat and, pale or not, the daggers that came from her eyes in the politician's direction were sharp, severe, icicle-like in their direction, and absolutely flaming in their intensity. Despite the look, there was a tremor to her form and she remained silent at first, though whether that was due to Oscar taking the lead or her own utter discomfort was an argument that would not be had.

Roman, on the other hand, took Oscar's retort seamlessly in stride, his demeanor unchanging and with neither of his flanking party showing any indication that they acknowledged the thin insult Oscar had thrown their way. Obviously, the bodyguard would have been trained against it and... probably more obviously still, the blonde lacked the wherewithal to have caught it had it been made of pure lead and slammed directly into her pretty face. When his stride paused, a "safe" distance from the General and his "arm decoration" - for that was a "safety" credit Roman was actually holding "in Oscar's favor" in his mind - he managed a laugh. ((THIS LAUGH, at the very beginning))

"Ah, the power and poise of the white knight! Classic! So, is that it? Already, you've a General around your little finger, Cassie? Tsk, tsk, tsk... shameful." Finally, crow-black eyes moved from the purple-haired woman to come even with Oscar's monocle gaze. "You have been flanked, General, and you don't even know it. For one, there will be a teaching session, but the lesson is forthcoming and you, sir, are the pupil. For, you see, the wool has been pulled over your... eye, thus far, and, as a favor for those that do right by the hidden threat, I shall offer instruction and advice - something you are obviously in great need of. For one, one from a military operation, whatever the source, ought to be well aware of the fact that tact is unnecessary in the presence of the tactless. This is, of course, an unfortunate side effect of the presence of the little spider on your arm, but I don't anticipate you've figured that out yet. Such is... the jet-lag and re-adjustment required by one returning from afar, no?

Cassidy managed a distinctive flinch at the word "spider."

"So easy it is to be mislead. I'll ignore the bit about propriety and, graciously, forgive your tone, seeing as how it is due to unfortunate ignorance. As for the "morbidly impolite"? Ignorance, again, as her presence is precisely the "impolite" fixture in this remotely engaging stand off. No doubt the turning over in the grave of the dead is precisely caused by her, for you see, I am well aware of who you are, General Leonhardt, and I am intimately-"

Another distinctive flinch from Cassidy.

"-aware of the role that woman pretends to be in your... eye-" It did seem that Roman was having some issue with Oscar's singular gaze. "-and the eyes of the rest of the DNCS. Allow me to impart the first piece of crucial knowledge."

"N-no! It's... I..."

"And that is that the poison at your side is, regrettably, my ex-wife-"

"A-ah... Er... ..." Her visage sank, eyes straight to the ground.

"And so, to appreciate the situation, you must, at least, understand my... interest in such an appearance. And why the interest? Not some ridiculous "spurned lover's" insult! No, no, good sir, I am here to warn you of your plight!" There was... a distinct evangelical quality to his words now. "A terrible one, both individually and to the grand scheme as a whole."

"W-wha... individually...?" Cassidy's eyes came up, her visage one of shock, with a splash of confusion.

"My dear, good, righteous General, you must understand that I approach with your best interests in mind, because it impacts not only me and my interests, but society at large. What lies in wait there is a traitor... or, if she has not acted yet, she will in time. Personal experience and intimate-"

Again with the flinch. Cassidy reacted to this one as if she'd been punched in the chest.

"-knowledge are the cards used to reveal this, here and now. I am aligned with you and yours, General. I support the role and actions of the DNCS whole-heartedly, and will promote them and facilitate for them greatly once I take my proper place as mayor of Endonia. But that one there? She is sympathetic. She is contradictory! She wishes to see US fail, and to see those who should not be take over and reign in our stead! Oh, she plays the role of "fence-rider" marvelously, don't be in doubt! The DNCS even allows it; not bothering to trace the movements of her finances; the flow of resources mostly to her employers, but with a shadow's cache to another!"

Cassidy's mouth had fallen open, and she was staring at her ex-husband in such a way as if to suggest he was pointing a loaded shotgun at her. There was more than just fear in her eyes.

"The dagger in the back will come, General, to you and yours, so be thorough and take my warning to heart. It will save you in the end. But that is merely the forest. Shall we focus a moment on the trees?"

"Y-you..." All of the blood had drained away from her then. She was like a ghost. "You wouldn't!"

"I must do my duty for the sake of those more important than you're horrible whims," came his cold response, and he even added a half-bow to the wolf's grin he was wearing.

"N-no..."

"For you see, dear General, when I said spider-"

"No!"

"I truly meant..."

"You can't! You've no right!"

"...that she is a black widow, General."

And Cassidy screamed. If her previous emotional state was one of sheer melancholy, the new explosion was of unbridled hate. She jumped from her seat, apparently aiming to tear Roman's eyes out with her nails, but she was immediately captured by his monster of a bodyguard.

"Or is that a secret also unshared?" The laugh came, again. "It's better you know now, before she sinks her fangs in too deep."

"I hate you! Let me go!"

"For you see," he said, the snake oil dripping. He managed an overly amused glance in Cassidy's direction. "She's death itself for those of us unfortunate enough to be snared. I only luckily escaped in time. But her first husband?"

"Shut up!"

"He... he was not so lucky. A simple search about the "Morgan Divorce", eleven or twelve years back will give you all the details-"

Another scream, and this time, she brought the spike heel of her shoe down on the bodyguard's foot. It snapped with a hateful crack, releasing her from the large man's grasp but also depositing her on her rear in the wet grass. Somehow, she was aware enough to know that her shoes were now useless, and she managed to tear them off and fling them at Roman before abruptly bolting away, stumbling and running like a drunken gazelle.

"-but the short version is, she sucked him dry of everything he was worth, and then watched him flail and draw still on the end of a noose that she tied for him." And all of a sudden, all mirth in the politician's disposition faded and he struck Oscar with a deathly stern look. "Now then, General, your lesson is over, and if you've a modicum of intelligence, whatever your current emotional state, you will thank me later. There is grief here, for the loss of a patriot, but there is hope for you yet, thanks, directly, to my intervention. Consider this a... public service announcement, for the sake of you, yourself, and every citizen that may be affected by the poison that woman represents. Ta ta!"

Again, the laugh... and, as abruptly as they had approached, Roman and company slinked off towards their own vehicle.

But what had happened to Cassidy? It was all a mess. A complete and utter mess. Her most crucial dark secrets had just been thrown on the glistening emerald lawn for Oscar to see, some short few hours after she'd made a ruination of herself to him, then been given a reprieve, and then only second into that reprieve. She was more than just the mess of her make-up; she'd been pierced as violently as if she'd been physically impaled on a lance, and, in that sentiment, she was, by her measure, running for her life. She'd dashed away, destroying her stockings, across grass and sidewalk paths, back to Oscar's vehicle, wishing only to collapse inside and hide from everyone and everything... only to find the doors, appropriately honestly, locked. It stalled her "fleeing" sentiment only a moment. "Escape" was all she could grasp, and so she tried... except... instead of heading towards the exit of the cemetery, she chose wrong, and made her runaway sprint deeper in to the land of death.

Eventually, she would tire and half-collapse on a stone bench quite a ways into the silent sanctuary. There was an intricate mausoleum nearby, and she briefly entertained an idea of simply disappearing inside and never, ever returning to the surface. But she was, quite simply, too worn out for that. And so she sat; too dry for tears, too flattened for anything else. She hatefully wished she had not purposefully left her flask at home... a notion she had taken to heart, because she was sure it would have made a terrible impression on Oscar. So much for that.

[Oscar Leonhardt]

While being spoken about as if he wasn’t there irritated Oscar, he maintained his newfound neutrality, imported directly from military discipline. Getting into an argument or collecting animosity from a politician that may well hold a position of power was an inconvenience he would rather do without. While Oscar was well prepared to defend the dignity of his day’s companion, he felt distinctly pressured against it by sheer lack of closeness. Cassidy was more or less an unknown entity to him and he couldn’t rebuke against it. If Roman knew her personally and for far longer than Oscar had, he couldn’t fight against his arguments, no matter how clearly malevolent the individual before him appeared.
His lips tightened into a thin line when he was accused of ignorance, but he couldn’t protest against it, for he was, just as the politician was pointing out, more or less defending someone he didn’t know well. The only thing Oscar knew for sure was that between Cassidy and Roman, both people he didn’t know much about, he would undoubtedly side with the woman and not far any affection or interest that might have clouded his judgement but simply because one had a dark aura comics outlined devils with and the other was a plain grey, a little dull and lost, but definitely harmless.

Oscar’s face turned a little, so that he could give Roman a better view of his singular eye, since it happened to catch so much attention throughout the lecture he was receiving. The revelation that Cassidy was the politician’s ex-wife arrested the gesture mid-motion and the light in his eye paused. Despite the barrage of insults, Oscar seemed to be considering Roman with more genuine neutrality from that point on. That changed everything. An irritable ex-lover he could fully understand. After all, breakups rarely ended well and fostered loving memories for posterity review. Oscar tried hard to hide the pity in his eyes, for he was becoming more and more convinced Roman’s whole discourse was driven by vindictiveness over he and Cassidy’s unsuccessful liaison. For the moment, he was more or less ignoring Cassidy and focusing on what the impolite one had to say.

The mention of “traitor” made him pause again, but this time internally. Everything was all about mutants, wasn’t it? There couldn’t be one damned moment they didn’t come into play. The idea that Cassidy was somehow aiding mutants didn’t have the right impact on Oscar, at least, not one right by Roman. It was strangely comforting that he wasn’t the only one, but for the sake of appearances, he appeared to turn grave and interested in what Roman had to say. What followed next was more airing of private laundry and an anticipated outburst from the purple-haired woman. Oscar was up as well but his apparent allegiance in the whole spectacle was decidedly neutral. His hands were behind his back, and for a moment, he was a politician, listening without revealing any of his thoughts.

Roman was definitely equipped to out-talk him and Oscar didn’t have the discursive ability or necessary evidence to provide any opposing argumentation. So he listened past the moment of Cassidy’s flight and ignored the new set of insults offered to him quite plainly as a parting gift. While Roman was turning, Oscar introduced his own farewell. “Chance may dictate that we not meet again, so I’ll offer my thanks now.” There was a smile in Oscar’s tone but he kept it from his face. “Farewell, and good luck with your campaign.” For Oscar would make sure to advise anyone he knew to vote against him. Not that it would make incredible difference, but at least he spared Oscar unnecessary candidate consideration.

The General turned and, with an inward sigh, went in search of the purple haired woman. A lot of information had been thrown at him and he had no idea how to respond to all of it, apparently he needed to do some research as well. Oscar swept a hand across his brow, suddenly tired, and for just a moment, he thought he would prefer to embark on an international mission the following week. Dealing with people and politics drained him. It took some time to find Cassidy, nested on a stone bench, quite deep into the forest of headstones. He approached her quietly and took a seat beside her, leaving some space between them. At first he didn’t look at her and had to search through his mind for a way to break the silence. The first autumn leaves rustled to a swift and sudden breeze, tumbling, gold and withering, from weary trees.

“I’m sorry you had to meet your evil ex-husband. You don’t have to tell me what that was about, but if you want to, I’m listening.” The gaze Oscar landed on Cassidy was plain as his tone. “So you’ve been married twice. That makes sense. I mean... I understand your reaction more now, for before... ah.” Oscar swept a hand down his face. How in the world had they gotten here?

“What happened, Cassidy?” Oscar didn’t know exactly what he was asking about but he expected the explanations to last for hours if she started any. He shook his head. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. Would you like me to take you home? The day seems to have taken its toll on you. Next time I have a random funeral to attend, I’d best do it on my own.”

There was a tired smile on his face and it faded very quickly.

[Cassidy Morgan]

Cassidy was ill-equipped to offer any sort of immediate reaction when Oscar finally found her. Mentally and physically, she was made up of blanks; her energy drained away from everything that had occurred that day, her final flight the most immediate of the leeching acts. At first, she had thought that, perhaps, the noises behind her were figments of a tired imagination, but when the General appeared and took a seat next to her, that illusion vaporized and was swept away by the sudden breeze. It was somehow fitting that they were in a graveyard. Many ghosts had risen to haunt her over the last few minutes.

She was very aware of the space Oscar placed between them, though she was not surprised by it and did not offer even a flinch in recognition of it. When he looked at her, she kept her half-lidded eyes locked solidly on the ground. It might have been a little odd, but the respite she'd earned in running away had, at least, allowed her body and mind to recognize that she was running on empty, and the lack of energy had settled on her face, beneath the ruined makeup, in a largely blank expression. Then the pause of silent, physical proximity passed, and Oscar spoke. Her head dropped very slightly when he apologized for the chance meeting with Roman, and she did not know what to say or how to say it when he said that he was listening. She did, however, react when he made mention of her prior marriages, sitting up with a sigh, her gaze moving off in some other direction as she absently reached her right hand over to rub at her ringless left ring finger.

When he asked her "what happened", his question's vagueness was as lost as she internally felt, but it did force her to partially regroup enough to stop with the absent hand-rubbing and hesitantly look at him. To describe her in a single word, she looked "defeated." She watched him for a long second, then broke her eyes away again, returning her gaze to the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said, quietly, her voice a bit harsh due to dryness and her previous outbursts. "It's... not your fault. A-and... I don't know. I... don't think... I can move right now. B-but... but, yes. Twice. And... you saw... heard..." She had to pause, swallowing hard. "...the results. I'm... I, uh..."

Cassidy was unsure about what else to say. She did not know where to even begin. She was too tired to attempt any damage control, and she suspected that it would have been a fruitless endeavor, in any case. Crucial salvos of hateful ammunition had been shot her way, targeting both career and personal life, and she had no armor left to hide behind.

"W-whatever you think... is best. I'll... be a book. Just... pick a page and... read me."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Oscar met her defeated look with a friendly one of his. Whatever shadows lurked in her past, he wouldn’t be one to judge. God knew his wasn’t pretty and sometimes he had done things he wouldn’t now be proud of, but in this moment, he was quite glad none of them had risen from the graveyard of his mind to the surface to assault him. At her apology, he cast his gaze away, withholding a sigh. It was probably the millionth time he was hearing an apology this day, first from Angela and now from her mistress. The two weren’t too different in that regard - apologizing for things that weren’t their fault or hadn’t intentionally meant offense.

Oscar smiled internally and it was mirthless again. Hadn’t he just done the same thing? To prompt her reassurance... He was a hypocrite. “We don’t have to move at all,” he accepted immediately. As for what he saw... what did he see, really? “I saw a scorned ex-lover with enough pride, selfishness and inconsideration to rival an Egyptian pharaoh.” Oscar showed a genuine half-grin. “As for what he said.” Oscar shrugged. “I’d rather hear your side of the story. I’m not just going to believe everything I hear from a random viper.” Oscar placed his arms on his legs and supported the side of his face on knuckles, his gaze angled towards her.

When Cassidy urged him to “read her like a book,” he paused, watching her quietly for a moment. Just as she hadn’t known where to begin, so he didn’t as well, but he decided to try. “How did... Roman and you happen?” It seemed so unfathomable, for the two appeared so different and the man was, simply put, a huge jerk. It didn’t take knowing him personally to spot that. Maybe he had been different in the past? Oscar would wait for Cassidy to clarify on that matter.

“I’m not sure I want to ask about the other marriage, the eh... first one.” Oscar looked past Cassidy to a large headstone in the immediate distance. “It sounded...” His brows furrowed. “very personal.” And he didn’t want to step on her toes or make her say anything she would be uncomfortable recalling. Whatever “black widow spider” tendencies Roman had accused her of existed or not, he would be the judge of that, but not from her past, but from what he saw in her now as they spoke.

All he was seeing was a sad, broken woman with as much ability to inflict pain on someone as get up from bed at a time that allowed her to get to work early. “It’s okay if your past is messed up, Cass. You don’t need to be perfect around me.” Oscar gave her a hint of a smile, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Then, rather humorously, he looked up and thought. “Or decent for that matter.” He laughed, shortly, and it was tired and died away. When his gaze came to the ground, his hands joined thumbs briefly. Oscar decided it was best not to mention the revealed sympathy towards mutants or secret cashes. He didn’t want to know and he wasn’t ready for what that conversation would ask of him.

“What’s your favorite food?” The question came out of the blue and perhaps in stark contrast with the tone of the day. “Where do you like to go on vacation?” Oscar smiled privately to himself. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” When he looked back to her, there was a little smile in his gaze. “I hope you don’t mind that those are the kinds of things I’d like to know.”

[Cassidy Morgan]

Hesitation was all Cassidy could manage when Oscar put forth his first question, and it came, ironically, as the perfect preamble to his next statement. In order to explain the politician, she would have to explain the first. At least, partially. Perhaps she could truncate the beginning, but at that moment in time, her mind was not quite able to jump that many steps ahead in the game. But then came the next bit - Oscar said she didn't have to be "perfect." This, of course, sounded, to her, as if he was simply being nice... but, despite the dismissive acknowledgment, she found herself hoping that it was true and genuine, and not just social habit being regurgitated. In fact, she was able to convince herself to lean towards truth due to one undeniable thing: he'd chased her down. Why would he have made such an effort, only to throw a "polite-as-society-wants-it-to-be" comment at her?

Unfortunately, the next statement sent her spiraling back into her previous depression. "Or decent, for that matter." That's what he said. Decent. ...She didn't have to be "decent." ~*~Well,~*~ she thought, in that moment. ~*~That's good, cuz I'm not. Ever.~*~ Indecent was actually a usual label for the woman and her "behavior" and, here and now, she was sure she looked exactly that. She tensed up after the statement, and coiled in on herself as Oscar offered her his next few questions. If she had been able, she would have promptly burst into tears, again, after he finished.... but she couldn't. She was practically out of water - though a glimmer appeared in her eyes - and she was too worn out for hysterics.

"Y-you don't..." Her voice was wobbly. "...haveta be nice. I'm indecent, now, yesterday, tomorrow? Always? I don't... I haven't... I can't... what... H-hey!" And, abruptly, a touch of strength returned to her voice. "Could you... push me? That way." And one of her fingers managed to point forward - if he obliged her...and, probably, if he did not - she would fall forward into the grass and flop over, like a gothic-lolita fish, onto her back. She was of the current opinion that being so "low" required being on the ground. Her hands moved up to push on her eyes, and she sighed.

"I dunno. I just... don't know. I don't like food, I like wine," she said, her tone extremely self-spiteful. She sighed again. "I just, hell, bar food. Whatever horrible, stupid, terrible thing on the menu that's associated with some stupid challenge of gorging and making yourself sick. I go for that. ...And grilled pineapple." She replaced her pressing fingers with the back of her left arm, keeping her eyes covered. "For vacations I used to love Asia and the tropics. I think.... I'd rather go somewhere dreadfully cold now. You can... bury me in the snow. And, embarrassing...?" Despite her position and overall energy level, she managed a spiteful laugh, but she choked on it, and turned over on her side, away from him. "Oh... who... cares? The stories that get told behind my back are prolly worse than the truth, anyway... Uh... you wanna know? For real? How about... getting it on with some guy you met less than two hours ago, in the stands, at a professional football game, broadcast on national television, and being captured on camera? Ha! Yeah, I caused a commercial break that made the whole freakin' country miss a record-breaking touchdown... haha... oh, God... and, like, security was called, and the people around us were so freakin' pissed off..." Yet another sigh. "Ya know how much I cost them? Like, twelve or something beers, couple slices of pizza, some hotdogs, popcorn, roasted peanuts... those sons o' bitches probably threw a thousand dollars worth of concessions at us while we were bein' dragged out."

Somehow, this little confession... seemed to normalize her. She didn't move her arm, but she did manage half a smile as she flopped back onto her back.

"You gonna beat that, cowboy? ...Shit, I bet you just wanna drag me to a clinic now, so I can get checked out..." Still not moving her arm, Cassidy shook her head. "But... whatever. What. Ever. I'm... totally just... gonna go get plastered later, and forget all this, so... seriously. You wanna know... about that guy? It's cuz I hated... me. I hated me, cuz of a lot of things. That "black widow"... thing. And... and, it was early, in the military thing I'd been... thrown into, and even though I thought maybe, with them, I could have a "purpose", I still didn't think I was worth any... personal trouble. But, ya know... he... just... goes forward? Bull-headed? Maybe... you caught that? And, I dunno, he wanted me, for some reason... so... I just... sorta... ... I-I... I thought it was a second chance." She almost shuddered, because now she was speaking words very similar to thoughts she'd had earlier. "And... it was. A second chance... at failing. It wasn't good to start, and it really went to hell after my parents died, cuz... whatever... physical attraction that might have brought him to me... in the end? It was just about... money. It's... it's bullshit. All of it. ...Heh... looks like he caught another one, too. Just as... stupid as me."

She felt better in the grass. In a way, this was simply because laying down eased her tired body. Of course, somewhere in the back of her mind, she also liked it because it offered the possibility of being stepped on. She felt very bug-like - creepy-crawly, unattractive, and very "crunchable" underfoot.

[Oscar Leonhardt]

He was told he didn’t have to be nice and he nodded. He wasn’t being “nice,” he was being himself and he didn’t know how to be anything other than that. The request to push her made him furrow his brows in confusion, hot entirely sure what sort of push she was requesting. Oscar shrugged. “Sure.” He gave her a little pat on the back that should suffice as symbolic push. Her forward drop further amplified his confusion and this time he was looking down at her, an eyebrow quirked. Gods, women were odd. Wisely, he did not comment on the grounding moment, instead, shuffling on the bench to sit on the spot she had occupied and be directly above her to listen.

Oscar seemed amused by her “no food just wine,” confession. He felt like that sometimes too, but it wasn’t a constant. As for her horrible eating habits, a younger version of him could relate. A shadow passed behind his eyes. It was related to the same incident of taking up smoking, all part of the plan to die quicker. Oscar blinked away the memory and focused on her words again. The idea of burying her in the snow got her a half-smile and her laugh made him tilts his head, trying to find her expression, but it required a full change of position and he didn’t budge.

Her embarrassing tale and the following question sent some brief heat to his cheeks and, with an amused smile, he shook his head. “No, mine’s boring in comparison.” But his mirth faded when she expressed the desire to get “plastered” later and forget everything about today. Despite it, his smile remained, smaller. His eye, although dimly glowing with his usual natural friendliness, gained a hint of distance. So the whole day would be thrown away? His shoulders slumped a little, because that included him, but he didn’t dwell on the thought. Because of his job, people had always been very eager to forget about him the moment he disappeared from sight, so he was used to the feeling.
When she explained the deal with Roman, Oscar forgot about his brief encounter with light sadness and found he could empathize with her experience. While nothing serious had come of his brief attempts at getting close to others after his first serious relationship had ended abruptly, he had come to understand that the types of women he was attracting were the ones who fancied the thought of profiting from being with an absentee General, whose lack of consistent presence allowed them full freedom. Whatever they thought to gain was not there, however, since Oscar was slow to warm to them and quick to notice their true intentions.

Regardless, he neither bore a grudge towards them nor considered himself worthless. Whatever the “black widow” marriage meant, it sounded like it had had quite an impact. Oscar lowered his head a little and sighed, finally pushing off of the bench and dropping down beside Cassidy. He sat fully on his back also, but placed his hands under his head as cushion, looking up into the sky. “Life’s hard, isn’t it?” He asked, rather lightly and the glint in his eyes wasn’t serious enough to be associated with someone his age. “But you can decide it’s not as grave as it seems.” Oscar closed his eyes. “A beggar told me that.” The memory was fond, somehow.

“He was homeless and I was freshly dumped. Our spirits weren’t supposed to be exactly light, were they? But he said a person can either choose to carry around their entire life, and should it be mostly unfortunate, be filled with the gloom seeping down from the weight, or they can choose to carry around only the moment and be able to enjoy it without influences from a past that can never catch up to you again.” Oscar’s head turned so that he could look in Cassidy’s direction. “Unless you insist on carrying the load around.” He shrugged and looked back to the sky. “I was never quite so gloomy again.” He was smiling again. “How about you drop the mule sack above your head for a moment and just look at the sky?”

Oscar took in a slow breath and his expression became a touch graver, so too, his tone. “We’ve all done things we wish we could take back, Cass. Sometimes, you just have to accept that some things happened. Just accept it. Then decide to take what you’ve learned from them and try to do better next time.” Oscar stretched one of his arms back, black sleeve brushing through dry ground and withering grass. “What’s the worst thing that can happen if you do?”

[Cassidy Morgan]

Cassidy remained silent through Oscar's story of the beggar, and she had not attempted to answer his questions, as she interpreted each of them (until the last one, anyway) as rhetorical. The first one "Life's hard, isn't it?" could have potentially been taken as a bit of a verbal slap; directly teasing an idea that her "troubles", and her reaction to said troubles, was stupid. However, she fully agreed with that sentiment. Most of the time she was being stupid, and it didn't matter a bit if it was intentional stupidity (which it usually was) or accidental. In fact, she actually liked the intentional stupidity. Having played that card so often in the last few years, everybody she normally associated with expected all that came with it - stupid, unreliable, ect. And, as if by design ("as if" because she certainly hadn't planned it out), the result was that her life, while much more solitary (Angela and co. not withstanding) it was much easier. With the establishment of such low expectations, it was easy to get away with nearly anything she wanted, including her propensity for silly, flirtatious banter.

At Oscar's command to "drop the mule sack above her head and look at the sky", the purple-haired woman choked on a laugh again. Although still "down", the opportunity to blatantly inflict self-damage on her reputation - i.e., the embarrassing story - seemed so normal for her that she had been able to somewhat recover. As such, the mentioning of a "mule sack" - something she wasn't even sure she could identify - produced such a ridiculous image in her mind that she had to laugh, but given the seriousness of the events of that day, she was inclined to try and cut it off. The result? She gave a little snort which, ironically, reinforced the ridiculous image in her mind and caused her to choke. Still, she obliged him... sort of. Sliding her arm off of her face, she turned her palm and covered her eyes, splitting two of her fingers to allow a single eye to gaze skyward. She remained like this until he finished. Then, her fingers closed, "blinding" her again. After a moment, she sat up, initially drawing her knees up to her chest. But instead of hugging them and laying her face on them, which would have looked quite pathetic, she leaned back, spreading her arms behind her to support her weight.

"Oh, God, Oscar," she started, looking somewhat apologetic. "I know. I... know all that. Not your story, I mean, but... ya know, the sentiment. Why do you think I'm such an idiot all the time? It'd be fine if... if the damn things would stay buried. Somehow, so much of my - whaddaya wanna call it? Baggage? Can a mule sack be that? - just keeps catching up. Ha, I wonder what that says? That I suck at directions and just keep making left turns? Or, maybe, that I am really Goddamn slow? Hahaha... oh, hell, it's probably both, and a whole lot more. Ugh! But, damn it, that whole... learn from them and try to do better next time?" She brought her right hand up to her forehead, index finger and thumb splayed out to make the shape of an "L." She stuck her tongue out at him, too, and, once again, closed a mimicking eye. "That's how idiotic scenes like the one I made this morning happen. See, if it'd been the old me - and I mean, like... old, old, back when I first started really screwin' everything up - I'da found some way to make sure we never made it here. Or, at least, not until real freakin' late. I dunno how you would have taken it, so maybe I'm wrong, but we were already right there at the bedroom, right? Pfft! But I dropped that "me" in a volcano somewhere, and, thinking I ought to... gah, I dunno? Spare you from... what? Me? I did... whatever the hell it was I did. Still screwed it all up, just in a... different way." Despite it all, when she dropped her hand back behind her, she was able to give him a smile. "I think it's pretty stupid, but what do you think? Am I a complete idiot for being terrified of possibly being liked by you? Of being scared to death that I might actually like you back?" And she flopped back down on her back. "Oh my God, I don't even know if I wanna hear the answer..." She mocked herself, suddenly covering her ears and coiling up into a ball. But she relaxed again, stretching back out. "Oh, what the hell. Yes, I do. Lay it on me, Phantom. I'll think about "the worst thing that could happen" later."

[Oscar Leonhardt]

Oscar listened quietly to what she had to say after lifting up and supporting herself with her arms. In the sky he could see scenes from his past. Hungry childhood nights, kindly old neighbors and his initiation in the military stuck out. The story he had told her might have sounded silly, but it had been very important to him at the time of the telling. Without it, he might not have gotten where he was right now.

The loser Cassidy labeled herself as and the silly tongue reveal brought a half-smile to his face and distracted him from old memories. The smile faded gradually when she explained that today was an exception and that she usually found a way to make a mess of things. Wordlessly, he shrugged a little, gaze returning to the sky. It was his way of saying that no real harm had been caused today. Funerals were supposed to be dramatic. He missed the smile she flashed his way but her words kicked the calm out of his system. The discussion suddenly crept back to sentiment and he was frozen for the moment. It had been a long time since he had liked anyone. In any way. And certainly long in this way. Whatever way it was that was making him grow anxious. That had not been what his speech had wanted to bring back to light and her expectation of an answer caught him off guard.

“Well, I’m scared to death too,” he blurted out, becoming a light crimson to suit the sensation of silliness that spread through his system. It was his turn to shift away from her and he did so, coming to rest on his side in the cemetery grass, supporting his head in a palm. “You started it. Back at your house. With that “I don’t know how to act” and “I’m nervous” and hiding in the bushes after.” He gestured vaguely, trying to be accusing but ending up sounding weakly observant instead. All the confidence he had felt when she appeared to be the flustered one had drained out of him. Everything had changed after she had annulled the joking nature of their banter and he hadn’t had enough time to catch up with the implications immediately.

Hesitantly, he glanced to her over his shoulder, shifting his position again. “But none of today matters, does it?” There was the slightest disappointment in his tone and he looked away, deflating and un-tensing a little. “You’re going to drown it in drinks,” he remembered and his gaze grew thoughtful briefly. He should be used to people wanting to forget him by now. Oscar sighed. “I won’t hold it against you, though. I understand. Today was mostly horrible for you, if not entirely.” He curled his fingers around a patch of grass and tugged.

[Cassidy Morgan]

"W-what? How come I started it? You're the one that invited me, right? I mighta screwed it all up, but you set the stage and drew up the curtain, right?" Although Cassidy did her best to sound "offended", she ended up laughing at herself at the end, sitting up and drawing her legs under her, indian-style. As if to "release" some stress, her hands moved up to deftly free her hair, and she took a moment to shake it out. Then, she managed a sigh. "Whatever. It is totally my fault. What can I say...? It's a... talent I happen to have. I mean, I just made a general say he was scared to death, too... haha...Ugh!"

And with a dramatic throwing up of her hands, Cassidy fell backwards into the grass again. The back of her left hand came to rest on her forehead, and she frowned at the disappointment in Oscar's voice with his next question. He claimed he "wouldn't hold it against her" and that the day was "mostly or entirely horrible" for her. It was a curious thing, to her, that the topic of "drinking it away" seemed a problem - wasn't that the typical military thing?

"What are you talking about, Oscar? Today was fantastic. Really, I haven't made this much of a fool of myself in a long time, and I've never had such a supportive audience," she said, sarcastically. Her tone changed after that. "I must be missing something, though. You... say you won't hold it against me, but "understanding" isn't a very... happy thought. I guess that means... you wouldn't wanna come along if I did go drown myself, huh? So... so, then, what should I do?" She paused for just a moment, considering what else to say. Then she laughed softly. "I mean, I just went on a date... to a funeral, right? You've already fractured by "usual routine", Oscar, so why not just... shatter it entirely? ...Maybe all of this... is a good thing?"

To finish, she took hold of her purple hair and pulled it aside, completely covering her face with it.

((Figure I'll put notes here: Oscar/Miri plot we can delay until whenever your ready! I'm in no rush, and I wanna see what you come up with. =P~ ))