Welcome to Gaia! ::

Eurydike kind of wrinkled his nose and snorted, although he didn't offer much else. The day he met a cat that wasn't ******** useless or a pain was something he'd need to see to be believed.

His smile was a little more at ease when it came to her willingness; he didn't hate the idea of having something in common with Still. As long as she didn't hate it, anyway. He hoped she didn't.

A bit of red flooded into his cheeks again, one of them he rubbed sheepishly with the back of his hand. Eurydike was half-smiling, half searching for a rebuttal, but he didn't have time to come up with any. "Maybe. I dunno. Uh, pretty typical kit, " and maybe just as well to change the subject anyway. "Snare drum, bass drum, few toms an' hi-hats, symbols - the essentials, y'know?" No, genius, she doesn't have any ********' idea. "I mean, heh, just... yeah."

There was a bit of a smile there, too. "Yeah. Mom liked cookin', an' when she got sick, I just kinda took over. Not as half as good as the s**t she made, but my husband likes it, so I guess that's somethin'. - what're you even eatin' if you ain't cookin'?" Suddenly, he was suspicious. "You mentioned cookies an' that's great an' all, but they feedin' you?"

"Uh, I had a Yamaha kit - but Pearl's supposed to be real ********' really good, uh - Tama's good too - Ludwig, DW - all kinda depends on the sound an' aesthetic that you're goin' for, y'know? I've only really worked with Yamaha, so it's tough for me to say what's really great or not." Eurydike hoped he didn't sound dumb or something. On the other hand, he hoped he wasn't rambling too much about it.

That suspicious look hadn't really left him. "I mean, like, real food - you can't eat all out the damn time, y'know? They stole you, least they can ********' do is make sure you don't starve or poison yourself, " and he said the last part with a huff so indignant it might've been funny, if they weren't just casually talking about her corruption or whatever. "Meet me here tomorrow, I'll bring you somethin'. It won't be great, but hopefully it'll be better than that s**t."

Then came the heavy question. He flinched a little, although honestly, he should've seen it coming. "No. She got more sick, an' then she was gone - lost her before I ever got here. Been years now." He usually said something like that to try and dodge the weight of it; it had varying degrees of success.

Eurydike rolled his eyes, snorting. "That sounds like s**t that belongs on a what the ******** do you call it, " and he snapped his fingers together, brow furrowed, trying to pluck it from memory. "I don't know, like a throw pillow or somethin'. One of those plaques you see in peoples' houses from Hallmark or some s**t like that." He was kind of laughing it off like that, even if his cheeks were a little red. "Yeah, in any case, fine. Startin' from tomorrow you get some real food. End of story."

It was something he'd heard a million times over, and for awhile, it'd rankled him. One of the stages of grief or some s**t like that, not that he knew a ******** ton about that - all he knew was it used to bother him and now it bothered him less.

But then she took his hand, and he looked at her, eyes widened a little, because he hadn't expected that. Eurydike wasn't sure whether it was the contact or the things she was saying, or the fact that she was the one saying it, but it pricked at something. His eyes felt unexpected hot, and the image of her grew distorted in his eyes, too bright before he looked away with a sniff that was deliberately loud and overblown, stereotypical masculine. It would've almost been funny if it'd been any other time.

He still thought of her, every ******** day. How could he not? - in the end, he was the only proof she'd ever been alive, and it killed him. It killed him that she could put all that time and effort and work and love out into the world, and in the end, he was all there was to show for it. It killed him that she wouldn't ever meet Rhys, and killed him even more that even if she had, she wouldn't have loved him.

The honest truth was, funny enough, his mom would've loved Olga. He could imagine them laughing together, poking fun at him, and he could imagine the inevitable question one day, why not her Logan, she's a good girl and it would be awkward and uncomfortable, but Olga would laugh it off with him, and - and none of this would ever happen because now neither one of them were around anymore, they were both as good as dead, and the thought hit him harder than he thought it would.

"I, uh, should go, " and he cleared his throat roughly, rubbing hard at his face and turning back to her with a smile he managed to piece together. "Tomorrow though, yeah? - you'll be here tomorrow?"