Oh, you look a good shot. [Alois coos this at practically every customer he sees, but it still somehow seems tailored to the person he's speaking to now. He's leaning against the game's stall in an indulgent way, looking comfortable with himself, ankles crossed, wrist limp, fingers beckoning. He has a way, too, of looking impressed with the person he sees now, but it's so subtle that it seems natural.
It's also completely a lie!!! No hard feelings, folks, this is just how things go around here. So he's very sweet and encouraging, the picture of a pleasant boy, when he says,] Try just one more round, oh, do! I was certain you'd make it that last time; there's no way you won't do it, if you try again.
b. break time (for veterans)
[Now Alois had grown accustomed to a very particular lifestyle—that is, he was spoiled, back in Waddesdon Manor. As he'll tell anyone: he's an Earl back home, you know! He's used to getting whatever he wants. So for some time after his arrival at the carnival, he'd been a giant baby, even prone to tears of frustration or yearning. Don't you know that it's hard, he'd snivel. And, yes, it was hard.
But it's not so bad here. He's known worse.
These past few months have taken him back to what childhood was like (as if he's an adult now!), and Alois has receded, some, returning to a younger, hardier self. He still tries very hard to keep clean at all times, but he complains less about having no one to bathe him, no one to tuck him in at night and rouse him gently. When he does complain, it's not because of those creature comforts, but because he misses Claude so much...
Anyway, he's more or less mellowed out a little, too, after being here for a while. He whines less (though he still does whine). One might call him more subdued, overall, though honestly that might just be depression. But he knows how contracts work.
Right now he's lying on a bench, taking up almost the whole thing—his knees are bent, feet flat on the bench, so there's just enough room for one person to squeeze in at the end. And he's snatched a bottle of nail polish from makeup, and is painting his nails, slowly, lazily. It's idle, but in that way, it's soothing. Be thankful he's occupying his time like this, instead of being a brat somewhere. It's always a toss-up, which one he'll do.]
You're in my light, [he says softly, not quite snappish. He doesn't even look up.]
c. will o' wisps (for veterans)
[He'd thought this would be fun. You know, like catching butterflies. Butterfly hunting was always a great time in the gardens of Waddesdon Manor—the excitement... the glory... and all the fun he had with Claude. Then Claude turned to shit. Butterfly hunting stopped being fun.
Catching these little buggers would, Alois hoped, bring back the joy he'd felt in the gardens. This time, he'd be doing it alone, but maybe that was part of... oh, what is it all those unknowing idiots say... maybe it was part of the healing process. (Gross.) So Alois had set out on a hunt, jar and net and burlap sack all fumbling in hand. And he's been trying to catch them.]
Bloody hell!
[—Trying. It's not going so well. Unfortunately, the wisps don't care for the confines of a net or a sack. They keep phasing through material like it's nothing, and Alois is growling in frustration as he tries to catch this one in particular. His mouth keeps getting worse and worse, too:] Jesus fucking Christ!
[Despite his language, he looks like a child about to throw a fit, even growing a little red in the face.] You're a hardy little bastard, [he says to the wisp,] but just get into this bag, won't you? It's not so bad! I know it's sad, but come now...
[His voice oscillates between wheedling and angry—and he's so invested in his plight that he doesn't notice whether anyone else is nearby.]
alois trancy | kuroshitsuji ii | veteran
a. gamer's circle (for newbies)
Oh, you look a good shot. [Alois coos this at practically every customer he sees, but it still somehow seems tailored to the person he's speaking to now. He's leaning against the game's stall in an indulgent way, looking comfortable with himself, ankles crossed, wrist limp, fingers beckoning. He has a way, too, of looking impressed with the person he sees now, but it's so subtle that it seems natural.
It's also completely a lie!!! No hard feelings, folks, this is just how things go around here. So he's very sweet and encouraging, the picture of a pleasant boy, when he says,] Try just one more round, oh, do! I was certain you'd make it that last time; there's no way you won't do it, if you try again.
b. break time (for veterans)
[Now Alois had grown accustomed to a very particular lifestyle—that is, he was spoiled, back in Waddesdon Manor. As he'll tell anyone: he's an Earl back home, you know! He's used to getting whatever he wants. So for some time after his arrival at the carnival, he'd been a giant baby, even prone to tears of frustration or yearning. Don't you know that it's hard, he'd snivel. And, yes, it was hard.
But it's not so bad here. He's known worse.
These past few months have taken him back to what childhood was like (as if he's an adult now!), and Alois has receded, some, returning to a younger, hardier self. He still tries very hard to keep clean at all times, but he complains less about having no one to bathe him, no one to tuck him in at night and rouse him gently. When he does complain, it's not because of those creature comforts, but because he misses Claude so much...
Anyway, he's more or less mellowed out a little, too, after being here for a while. He whines less (though he still does whine). One might call him more subdued, overall, though honestly that might just be depression. But he knows how contracts work.
Right now he's lying on a bench, taking up almost the whole thing—his knees are bent, feet flat on the bench, so there's just enough room for one person to squeeze in at the end. And he's snatched a bottle of nail polish from makeup, and is painting his nails, slowly, lazily. It's idle, but in that way, it's soothing. Be thankful he's occupying his time like this, instead of being a brat somewhere. It's always a toss-up, which one he'll do.]
You're in my light, [he says softly, not quite snappish. He doesn't even look up.]
c. will o' wisps (for veterans)
[He'd thought this would be fun. You know, like catching butterflies. Butterfly hunting was always a great time in the gardens of Waddesdon Manor—the excitement... the glory... and all the fun he had with Claude. Then Claude turned to shit. Butterfly hunting stopped being fun.
Catching these little buggers would, Alois hoped, bring back the joy he'd felt in the gardens. This time, he'd be doing it alone, but maybe that was part of... oh, what is it all those unknowing idiots say... maybe it was part of the healing process. (Gross.) So Alois had set out on a hunt, jar and net and burlap sack all fumbling in hand. And he's been trying to catch them.]
Bloody hell!
[—Trying. It's not going so well. Unfortunately, the wisps don't care for the confines of a net or a sack. They keep phasing through material like it's nothing, and Alois is growling in frustration as he tries to catch this one in particular. His mouth keeps getting worse and worse, too:] Jesus fucking Christ!
[Despite his language, he looks like a child about to throw a fit, even growing a little red in the face.] You're a hardy little bastard, [he says to the wisp,] but just get into this bag, won't you? It's not so bad! I know it's sad, but come now...
[His voice oscillates between wheedling and angry—and he's so invested in his plight that he doesn't notice whether anyone else is nearby.]