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Daphne was wearing black again, she looked rather a great deal like she was attending daily funerals, and frankly she looked just as depressed as if every single day a family member or beloved pet had died. It wasn’t beyond him to make the slightly wild association that she wore colors when she was happy, and black when she was miserable. So, if she had to wear colors perhaps she’d feel vicariously better.

“Daphne” he said as he saw her shuffle around the employee end of the counter with black dress and drooping hair. “No more black.” He said trying to sound as firm as he could about the subject before he turned to face whatever impact those damning words might have had on her fragile and morbidly clad Psyche. “No more black at the store, not for you, you look like… like you’re about to go on stage and spout existential poetry on why you’re plotting suicide because all the people who SHOULD do it can’t be bothered.”

Perhaps mentioning suicide wasn’t exactly the best plan of action when addressing someone who appeared to be chronically depressed but the words stuttered out in a rush as he watched her face, the shock that sank in for a moment and other things that he couldn’t even begin to describe.

“Daphne?” He said after a moment, like he’d just broken her, or found a terrible crack in an already fragmented doll, like if he touched her she’d fall to pieces and it strummed a deep cord within him that he couldn’t begin to explain. She seemed so much like –her- for a moment, that desperation that had come in the months before her ‘fall’ into the arms of Castor and the White moon.

“Right, “ He said recoiling slightly, after all the words rung in some part true, and that of its own made them sting more. “Sorry for worrying, but really, no more black. The store only needs one ‘Emo kid’ and I’m afraid that I got there first. You look tired, go home get some more sleep.” He turned back to the tray of caramels he’d been dipping in dark chocolate so the coarse sea salt would stick to them better.

His shoulders slumped in frustration, useless; he’d never be good with people, not like this. It was harder to deal with people when they weren’t in some kind of uniform.

“You know what?” He said bristling. “You’re right, you’re ABSOLUTELY right, no one on earth has it harder than you. I’m SORRY you’re boyfriend left and that I was not instantly aware that your boyfriend was a douche and left you. I’m sorry you had a good enough home life that you’re SAD that bad things happened in your family, how AWFUL. I’m sorry that I’m so damned used to people playing my EMO d**k is bigger than yours that I don’t tell most people anything about ANY of my personal life let alone my Boyfriends such as they have been. I would also like to point out I –am- wearing more color than you are right now and that’s probably a DAMNED good indication you took a wrong turn somewhere.” He said slamming a caramel down on the counter, still warm it mashed into a sweet pancake in a thick rhyme of sea salt intended for the coating.

He stared down at the caramel like it was the offending substance now and hissed air though his teeth before grabbing a cloth to peel it off.

“I don’t want a god damned pissing contest just because I got worried that you, whom are normally happy and perky are acting like this.” He waved a hand at her, still sticky with caramel. “I’m sorry He’s a d**k, if that’s what he did you deserve better, and as someone who’s absolutely NOT a fan of romance you’ll find something better.”

“D-Daphne” he stammered, tears were beyond unsettling to him, they shook him on levels that he couldn’t even begin to explain. The thought that followed made his mouth feel dry and his tongue thick, he felt arthritic, stiff and nervous remembering how other ‘offers’ had turned out. He had faith in the better part of them still but Lyra still shook him. She had gone from sweet and bubbly to distant, edgy. “Please don’t cry…”

What would it do to someone like Lina, would it be like it was for him or would she be lost in it, a broken doll forever?

“I could help, I could make you stronger, no more tears, no more worrying about your Boyfriend… no more being scared like that, protected. Safe… I could help keep you safe.”

Safe the way that Lina hadn’t believed he could, safe the way he needed to make the few people who had slipped in around his barriers and stayed there, opening the door for others.

He paused a moment before lifting his own pinky, “What if I think you need help, what if I think I need to force ‘sometimes standing on your own requires crutches for a little while’ down your throat?” He said with a small almost hopeless grin. It was a hard lesson to learn, he knew how hard too, and how surprising it could be to respect someone and be in turn respected for that courtesy. He respected her, and so on some level she trusted him, oh yes, he could be taught.

He hooked his finger carefully against hers, “Am I doing this right?” He said feeling rather more like he was inviting a broken pinky finger than an adorable promise’ that probably made him ‘ping’ all the more. Though to this day he’d deny that he could possibly pink anyone’s gaydar, even while he was making a pinky promise in the middle of a candy store with a tear stained shoulder.

“Don’t make me lend you my old ‘hoodie’’ He intoned warningly. “I have some ridiculous ones I got as gifts, that includes a panda one… never mind what my, my cousin got me for my Birthday.” He said pointing a finger half a tease and half serious. If a panda hoodie would cheer her up at this point he’d lend it to her.

“Today though don’t worry, just tomorrow let’s try for something a little more perky okay?” if nothing else it game him ideas for what to send her next time a gifting occasion arose. She liked birds and daisies and that sort of thing didn’t she?

“You know if you need me I’m here, well mostly here, except that the place I’m renting only seems to get signal to the cell about half the time.” Maybe the worst excuse ever for why he was occasionally out of contact for hours, but there had to be some reason just in case she called and he didn’t pick up.

“So trust me if I don’t answer its not personal, the phone is just carnivorous or something.”

He picked at the caramel still mashed to his hand almost absently. “So um… I haven’t taught you how to dip the strawberries yet have I, did you want to?” He looked at her almost shyly. Nervous and trying so hard to make her happy, something positive to focus on rather than the misery her life contained. “Or, I did get the ok to experiment with some fudge flavors, but I need you to agree that they sound potentially good before we try any.”