Ah. Yes, he supposed that a serious conversation warranted the use of full articulation. Jude chuffed at the meat. It was not cooking as fast as he wanted it to, but he wasn't about to turn up the heat and risk burning organic meat. It was Organic.

He mentally chewed on her roboticized words.

Always wanting to be happy meant that she always wasn't.

Being romantic when she was younger meant that now she wasn't.

The mutant thing? Yeah. That was sometimes the case, situation dependant. Hers more than warranted it with the being big enough to make the kitchen utensils look like toys and the chitin.

<<It gets better, though.>>

He hurrumphed through his mouth pieces.

She deserved to be happy and romantic now. Not better. The corresponding thought was that he deserved to be wanted on the team, personally and professionally, but it was the personal part that stung the worst.

"'etter 'oesn' soun' like you're nakin' your 'isney 'rincess 'reams come troo." He laid the handle down in order to make air quotes around the word "better" without actually turning around to face her. This wasn't a conversation that was easy face to face, but "better" deserved air quotes.

Jude picked up the handle and scrubbed at the meat again. It didn't have to be tended to constantly, but it was a good excuse to not look at his host.

Jude didn't take Jack's wisdom well. She heard the exasperated sigh, and watched his shoulders as he cooked. He wasn't looking at her, which was almost as bad as overt staring. Sometimes it was worse. When someone was looking at you, it was easier to read their eyes-- their hate, their fear, or perhaps heir awe was clear as day. It was trickier when someone had their back to you or was looking anywhere but you. Finally, Jude spoke, though, letting his host have a glimpse into his mind.

>> "'etter 'oesn' soun' like you're nakin' your 'isney 'rincess 'reams come troo."

The prawn laughed a genuine, booming laugh-- there was something cathartic about laughing, even if she wasn't entirely sure what was so funny to her.

"Ne'er wanted to 'e royalty," she said through a chuckle, sucking air into her lungs in an attempt to stop chuckling. After a few deep, cleansing breaths she said, "Sorreal doh, kid, I'n not tryin' to say dat your dreans'll ne'er cun true. I'n just saying it sun-tines seels like dey aren't, cuz lice has uzzer ideas."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Duh trick is to just kee' going sore-'ard," the prawn said, "And to do 'at you can. You night sined your-sells in a jo' dat you enjoy and 'iss a lady you luzz nor dan duh whole world it-sells. Seeningly dy hatten-stance."

Jack was talking about herself, of course. She loved working at Chrysalis. She loved Zinnia. Things were going really well, in the grand scheme of things. It was a normal, happy life. Jack cleared her throat. The warm and fuzzy sentiment made her feel congested, and besides, she was laying some raw feelings out for the kid she'd just met earlier that night.

"Nay'e your drean is like dat... just kee' going sore-'ard, and it'll 'e right dere," the prawn breathed.

She hoisted herself from the couch, retrieving the leftovers she would make a meal over and padding into the kitchen, towards the microwave.

"...'at drean is on your nine'd?" Jack inquired. Now, her back was also to Jude. She popped the lid off of the leftover, so allow steam to escape amidst heating, and slide the plastic container into the microwave.

He jumped a the sound, turning with meat spatula at the ready. Was that... laughter? He hadn't meant it as a joke, but he supposed it was a little funny. The model for the Disney Princess was changing. She was getting less passive and more independent. She was not yet chitinous.

Life had other ideas.

He went back to grumpy poking at dinner. It was getting nearly time to drain it.

She sounded plenty romantic even if she was talking in the hypothetical for him and not about herself. If that was her life, well, then Jude was plenty jealous.

> "...'at drean is on your nine'd?"

"Ne'er gonna ha'en." He was perhaps a bit more rigorous with stirring than he meant to be. "'at dren is dead. I 'alk a'ay srom id nysel an' here I an as a 'esult." It was hard to make the words clearly when he was feeling choked up.

He killed it dead. Hammered the last nail in its coffin.

Nobody missed him. Nobody wanted him. Nobody cared that he wasn't there. Not really.

He stopped stirring because of the roaring silence that thought left in its wake.

Nobody wanted him at the Mansion. It was easier for them with him not there. Svetty made herself more than clear that she was going to do what she was going to do with or without him. He was definitely a nuisance to her. With his power. With his face. With his want to do the right thing.

"Neen a noo goal."

That was all there was to it. Something... else.

>> "Ne'er gonna ha'en. 'at dren is dead. I 'alk a'ay srom id nysel an' here I an as a 'esult. Neen a noo goal."

The prawn gave a quiet huff. If they were facing each other, Jude would see that her eyes were smiling. But, as it was, they were back-to-back. The door was carefully closed on the microwave. Kk-chunk. The time was expertly tapped onto the keys, which was shown an the analog display. Bi-bi-bi. Enter. Bi. Whiiiirrrrr.

"You'll sigure sun-sing out," the prawn said with quiet confidence, "Just gizz yoursell-s sun tine."

Now that the microwave was in-motion, the prawn set about tidying-up the counter, collecting old mail into neat little piles. Sure, the kid might be homeless, but he was still a guest... and her apartment looked so... lived-in, however sparse. It was different with Zinnia. Zinnia loved Jack for who she was. Jack didn't need to clean her counters when Zinnia came over.