[ something about the remark has falco, rather than feeling irked as he would if it were gabi or something, is still turning bright red and pinching his brows together. maybe it was just the stark honesty in it too, but. ]
[ he’s almost feeling like he wants to object to this accusation of stupidity. almost. instead, he makes a face. ]
There’s a fence in between. You can come closer, you know . . .
[ with bedding done, he goes onto spreading feed out for them. they are f a m i s h e d, but it gives him the leeway to bend into the coop and check for any breakfast. ]
[ it's not like Cinnabar could touch them or anything... not really. They've never been good with animals, though not for lack of interest - they're too nervous, worried about hurting them, and even insects can tell. Observation from a distance is about the best they can do.
Also, the chickens totally do smell. ]
Why are you keeping them, anyway...? Are you going to eat them?
he could say "they're interesting" or "they're cute", but that's a personal opinion that cinnabar doesn't get. anyway, they smell— alright? maybe it's the dusty bird smell that doesn't actually bother falco. there're worse smells. like blood and bodies. ducking out of the coop, he now carries three eggs in a makeshift pouch made by curving the hem of his sweater. ]
Just the eggs, but I wouldn't eat them. [ he's too attached— he's even given each one names. ] I asked for them to practice something at first, but now . . . It's been nice to take care of them.
[ for some reason, they feel relieved to hear that. Of course, it's the natural way of things - animals eat other animals to survive - but they don't really want to imagine Falco killing anything, frankly. They don't want to see the poor animals die, either. They're innocent, even if they are stinky. ]
Practice? [ Cinnabar cocks their head slightly, strands of hair tinkling against each other. ] ... So you're interested in breeding them, then. I get it.
[ their partner is into those things, too. maybe Falco can teach the chickens tricks, like Bort does. his phrasing about the eggs makes them think he's not going to eat those, either - so, obviously, he's hatching them! ]
. . . That's not a bad idea. [ actually letting them procreate and have a flock . . . the chicks would be really cute, but he'd have to moderate or else there'd be too many to take care of. a future project, perhaps! ] The hens make good pets, and their eggs are great, too.
[ speaking of eggs, he's putting the one's he's gathered in a box in the wheel barrow as he goes to the next enclosure to repeat the process of clean, feed and egg snatching. ]
[ the power to calm... Cinnabar wonders if it would work on people, too, before they can stop themself. It would be nice to relax, for once. They don't think they really have since they got here. Being unconscious on the ocean floor doesn't count. Like, at all.
But when they dismiss that thought, they go back to what he said previously, and their brows knit together. ]
Wait. [ if he's collecting the eggs and wasn't considering breeding them before they mentioned it-- ] Don't tell me you're going to eat those.
Didn't they just come out of those things' rear ends?
[ Cinnabar's expression is ... slightly appalled... they know that insects and other creatures eat eggs sometimes, obviously, but they're insects?? Falco has enough brains to think about it, despite their previous name-calling... ]
Um . . . I guess? [ listen— he doesn’t study bird anatomy enough to explain that it’s a cloaca. or to counter talk that it comes out of the same place they poop and pee. maybe humans really are gross. ] That’s why you break the shell and cook what’s inside.
[ he hasn't thought about this before, huh ... maybe that's how animals cope with these things. Cinnabar doesn't look particularly convinced by his argument about cooking. Last time they saw him try cooking, he'd covered both himself and the kitchen in fruity slime. (As far as their logic is concerned, using the blender counts as cooking.) ]
I'll never understand you humans...
[ they shake their head. while they still seem grossed out, they also look like they pity falco a little... imagine having to do something so gross to live... very sad ]
[ listen, he never had to directly think about how eggs come from chicken butt. like, he knew! you grow up learning these things! cinnabar just makes it sound weird. he's perceptive, on top of everything, beginning to raise his shoulders as catches . . . their expression. ]
I was thinking your life must be hard. That's all.
[ it definitely is, considering he's from attack on titan, but probably not because he eats eggs. Nevertheless, their tone is actually not mocking when they say it, despite the judgement in their eyes earlier. Surely, he has many problems that they can't conceive of - just like they're sure he can't understand theirs. The two of them are very different. Insurmountably so, they might think, save for the fact that they know there's a shred of humanity inside them, too. ]
... Falco. [ this might be the first time they've actually used his name (other than when they screamed it at him as a titan before.) Their more serious tone indicates they're leaving the egg stuff behind. For now. ] You said something when you were in that form. But you were hard to understand. Do you remember?
[ his life was hard but not because he eats chicken butt orbs . . . cinnabar is pure. it’s better off this way. falco doesn’t exactly know what to say to that, and while he was fairly self aware, self pity was rare. everyone had there hardships. he supposed that’s part of being human. maybe that’s what they meant? Mm, he responds, but before he could let his trailing go too far once he was ready to put everything away—
did he remember? ]
Of course— I said I wanted to be your friend. [ . . . ] Was that it?
[ they had doubted their understanding after enough time had passed, as Cinnabar is wont to do when it comes to these matters. It was very hard to hope. But Falco doesn't seem to think it's hard at all; he says he wants to be friends with them without a second thought, and it's much harder not to believe in that.
They are dangerous, and largely useless here. Just being someone's friend, though? If that's all someone wants of them -- that's something they can do. Maybe not very well, and probably not as well as someone else here, but they can do it, if he wants them. ]
... Okay. [ Cinnabar looks a bit awkward. ] I'll accept.
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I don't know any better or I'm stupid?
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They're not mutually exclusive.
[ you can have it all, falco. ]
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There’s a fence in between. You can come closer, you know . . .
[ with bedding done, he goes onto spreading feed out for them. they are f a m i s h e d, but it gives him the leeway to bend into the coop and check for any breakfast. ]
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... Is there a point? They smell.
[ it's not like Cinnabar could touch them or anything... not really. They've never been good with animals, though not for lack of interest - they're too nervous, worried about hurting them, and even insects can tell. Observation from a distance is about the best they can do.
Also, the chickens totally do smell. ]
Why are you keeping them, anyway...? Are you going to eat them?
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[ cinnabar is a rock
he could say "they're interesting" or "they're cute", but that's a personal opinion that cinnabar doesn't get. anyway, they smell— alright? maybe it's the dusty bird smell that doesn't actually bother falco. there're worse smells. like blood and bodies. ducking out of the coop, he now carries three eggs in a makeshift pouch made by curving the hem of his sweater. ]
Just the eggs, but I wouldn't eat them. [ he's too attached— he's even given each one names. ] I asked for them to practice something at first, but now . . . It's been nice to take care of them.
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Practice? [ Cinnabar cocks their head slightly, strands of hair tinkling against each other. ] ... So you're interested in breeding them, then. I get it.
[ their partner is into those things, too. maybe Falco can teach the chickens tricks, like Bort does. his phrasing about the eggs makes them think he's not going to eat those, either - so, obviously, he's hatching them! ]
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. . . That's not a bad idea. [ actually letting them procreate and have a flock . . . the chicks would be really cute, but he'd have to moderate or else there'd be too many to take care of. a future project, perhaps! ] The hens make good pets, and their eggs are great, too.
[ speaking of eggs, he's putting the one's he's gathered in a box in the wheel barrow as he goes to the next enclosure to repeat the process of clean, feed and egg snatching. ]
I was practicing a power I got— to calm things.
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[ the power to calm... Cinnabar wonders if it would work on people, too, before they can stop themself. It would be nice to relax, for once. They don't think they really have since they got here. Being unconscious on the ocean floor doesn't count. Like, at all.
But when they dismiss that thought, they go back to what he said previously, and their brows knit together. ]
Wait. [ if he's collecting the eggs and wasn't considering breeding them before they mentioned it-- ] Don't tell me you're going to eat those.
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[ ????? look at all these eggs he has. ]
Of course! We use them to make a lot of different foods— it’s the next best thing next to meat. [ that doesn’t answer their disbelief— ] Why?
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Didn't they just come out of those things' rear ends?
[ Cinnabar's expression is ... slightly appalled... they know that insects and other creatures eat eggs sometimes, obviously, but they're insects?? Falco has enough brains to think about it, despite their previous name-calling... ]
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[ he hasn't thought about this before, huh ... maybe that's how animals cope with these things. Cinnabar doesn't look particularly convinced by his argument about cooking. Last time they saw him try cooking, he'd covered both himself and the kitchen in fruity slime. (As far as their logic is concerned, using the blender counts as cooking.) ]
I'll never understand you humans...
[ they shake their head. while they still seem grossed out, they also look like they pity falco a little... imagine having to do something so gross to live... very sad ]
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Come on . . . What's that look for?
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[ it definitely is, considering he's from attack on titan, but probably not because he eats eggs. Nevertheless, their tone is actually not mocking when they say it, despite the judgement in their eyes earlier. Surely, he has many problems that they can't conceive of - just like they're sure he can't understand theirs. The two of them are very different. Insurmountably so, they might think, save for the fact that they know there's a shred of humanity inside them, too. ]
... Falco. [ this might be the first time they've actually used his name (other than when they screamed it at him as a titan before.) Their more serious tone indicates they're leaving the egg stuff behind. For now. ] You said something when you were in that form. But you were hard to understand. Do you remember?
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did he remember? ]
Of course— I said I wanted to be your friend. [ . . . ] Was that it?
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[ they had doubted their understanding after enough time had passed, as Cinnabar is wont to do when it comes to these matters. It was very hard to hope. But Falco doesn't seem to think it's hard at all; he says he wants to be friends with them without a second thought, and it's much harder not to believe in that.
They are dangerous, and largely useless here. Just being someone's friend, though? If that's all someone wants of them -- that's something they can do. Maybe not very well, and probably not as well as someone else here, but they can do it, if he wants them. ]
... Okay. [ Cinnabar looks a bit awkward. ] I'll accept.