chikaidestroyer | ∞ 87: Rooftops [action]

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∞ 87: Rooftops [action]

[Around mid-morning, Albert can be seen picking up small things in the plaza -- nails, pens, groceries. He doesn't often do this, but it's been a week since he gave Caesar the task of repairing the stable, so he finds himself inspecting and repairing the amateurish work. That requires a few extra building supplies. Might as well take advantage of how calm everything is with the New Feathers coming in, right?

Albert spends the afternoon pulling out half-bent nails and readjusting crooked wooden slats. He can't say that he's disappointed, since Caesar actually tried to rebuild the stable's roof, but he can have the opinion that did a really shabby job. Silverbergs were apparently not very good roof-builders.

In the evening, after dinner, he'll be found up on house 42's roof, having climbed up through the skylight. It's something he's never really taken advantage of, and yet there's something familiar about it. He remains out there for a good while, almost meditating.]

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The first, of course. [He shrugs.] But the second might be more productive. Maybe.

But you aren't obligated to be productive.

Would you rather I not be?

I would rather you took initiative once in awhile, but that has been hit or miss for quite some time.

Right. And this is no exception. But if you're going to be working all day, fixing my mess, then it's the least I can do, don't you think?

[tonelessly] I'm so grateful you actually considered my feelings, Caesar.

Good. I'm glad you think so. Besides, I'm not doing anything better. It's okay to do something like this once in a while.

Then you should probably get started, if you have made your decision. [He's being so dismissive.]

And let you work in peace? I'll think about it.

[He lets out an exaggerated sigh.] And here I had thought I was rid of you.

It was worth a try. I'd have done the same thing. [Except not really, but that's obvious. However, this does leave him with another problem.] ...what should I make?

[And that question gives Albert pause.] What can you make?

...food.

[This is a completely valid answer.]

Dog food counts as food, too.

[Another completely valid answer.]

I was unaware that you had such fine tastes, Albert.

Shall I go into the stories of a certain little Silverberg who may have eaten chalk and shot peas out of his nose as a child?

I-I didn't eat chalk. [But denying the second one would be a crime.] That has nothing to do with this.

[Even if it isn't true, it goes without saying that people might in fact believe Albert if he said that Caesar ate chalk.]

I suppose I can place tonight's meal in your capable hands.

[That's right, and he if goes around telling people that, Caesar will not be afraid to shove him off his own bed again.]

As you should. I'll figure something out. And maybe I'll leave you alone so you can do this the right way.

Don't spend too much time figuring something out, or I will be cooking dinner before you know it.

I don't think so. [He shrugs.] You'll probably take a shower once you finish here. That should buy me some time.

[Oh, he knows him so well.] Buy time to catch a nap?

I don't see why not. [He smirks.] Maybe I'll nap while the food cooks.

Such a gamble, putting our dinner and the very house in danger of burning.

But at least I'll be well-rested. Isn't that what counts?