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[ruevealing]

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[ruevealing]

Rue matches Tim's smugness with a gentle, teasing clack of their beak, smiling too brightly for their scold to be anything but playful. "I did not even know that machine could catch fire! That experience alone was enough to change someone, believe me. I will never look at those noodle cups the same way again. I had to ban Hob from ever bringing them into the apartment!"

But then the tone shifts for reasons Rue can not even begin to comprehend, but they feel it, how even the weight of the boy leaning against them changes, his expression so open and true and raw. Such seriousness, such melancholy, it makes Tim look so much younger than he already is.

It takes all of their restraint to not draw him into their arms for a hug.

"You can tell me, Tim." A confession, he says, though Rue can not imagine a single thing he would need to address with them. "Anything you say will be safe with me. It will stay here, just between us. You have my word."

[ployboy]

He laughs a little laugh and thinks about saying that there goes his Amazon gift delivery for a box full of Takis infused noodly goodness.

"It's about the necklace I gave you," he ventures. There's nothing dire or heated or cool in his voice. Tim debates giving a whole backstory worth of context, like Rue had just done for him. But, again, he's no good at words meant to communicate sentiments. Sometimes he wonders if he really did do his teachers a favor by dropping out of high school. Then he thinks, damn, isn't it weird to be thinking about high school when he's nearly 20?

Tim feels another angry tug at his nerves by Guilt, the guilt this time so unrelated to Steph or Jeff or... Rue, that it's dizzying. Yeah. He definitely is no good at Talking.

"I told you I had thought about what my mother would have wanted, right?"

He's also clearly no good at being a son, unless someone fancies him a son of a bitch, then Tim figures he fits the bill. He pulls away from Rue to sit himself up straight, the straight-back and hands-on-lap way that's proper or whatever. As with any... confessional, he lowers his eyes. "I guess I just wanted you to think it was special somehow. You don't really have much in common with her."

Like, yeah, he should feel bad. But consider:

"I think I really like you better."

[ruevealing]

Tim mentions the necklace and Rue barely thinks before their free paw is touching to where it is hidden beneath the neckline of their dress, buried safely against feathers. That, along with the delicate peony clip from Hob, are the two things they try to incorporate into their everyday outfits. Such perfect, meaningful gifts, the best ones Rue has ever received.

So what about such a darling gift does Tim possibly need to make a confession for?

But Rue has all the patience one might expect from an ageless being, quietly waiting for Tim to sort through his own swirling, guilty, complicated thoughts, to sit up and make himself all proper for this big announcement. Rue's only response is the warmth of their encouraging smile, silently reassuring him to move at his own pace.

The mention of Tim's mother - again, how many comparisons does that make between them now - doesn't make sense until it finally does, when Tim lays it all out plainly. But even then, Rue struggles beneath the weight of the boy's words for once, reeling at the sheer rush of emotion it leaves behind. To be compared to a mother is one thing, but to be liked - loved? - more than one's own parents, Rue thinks that must be so much more profound.

"Tim."

It can not be a surprise that Rue draws Tim in for a hug, a tight, trembly embrace, where the boy is pressed in close enough within their wings to feel their great, pounding heartbeat.

"You had me so worried that something was wrong. Or that I had offended you. But instead you bring me another perfect gift. Thank you, dearest, I - I must confess, I hardly know what to say, only that I feel just as strongly about you. To have both Hob and you as my family, I can not think of a greater gift."