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R. A. B. has a precioussss; (writtenblack) wrote in anon_rpg,

Regulus is all up in arms before she even starts speaking. He's on a crusade on this, you see, because he knows, he knows that his wants --for once?-- are aligned with both the good thing and the right thing. Aligned so perfectly that they overlap, black lines of ink on a piece of white paper. Perfect correlation. A hundred percent. Well, there is the error factor, fine, okay, that is true, there is an error term and it is not a perfect 10-out-of-bloody-10, but it is still pretty damn close, if you round it up. (The error factor is-- ha. not telling. not to you, not to anyone. what do you think this is, an open exhibition? a blatant flaunting of-- what a mind you have. so uncivilized. tsk. voyeur. )

His fingers twitch and he wishes he still had that fag, just so he could toy with it and have something to do. Sirius might have messed up his own bloody hair, and looked like a sod (okay, fine, that is the bitterness speaking! not. jealous.) Regulus does not have a nervous tic, thus he has no outlet for his feelings.

So of course, he begins to defend his righteous perspective right away, opens his mouth to speak right before hers and he is just saying-- "He is not what you--" but the words are cut from his tongue, as if knifed to pieces (note: they do not wither, they do not fade slowly into a confused silence. They stop. Abruptly.)

He stares at her so vividly as if he was attempting both wandless and wordless magic in one heartbeat. In truth, he looks taken aback. Severely. What?

w.h.a.t.?

. . .

Two (hundred) heartbeats later, he realizes that he had not imagined her saying those two words, and thus, he invents a tic for himself (otherwise he would-- gobloodymental). He thrusts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and paces a few steps. Tap tap tap. The soles of his shoes click against the floor, rhythmically.

"That someone is not going to be Macn--he is incapable of--" Well if God will not pass judgement (and for the record, this is ironic, because Regulus does not believe in any God), then why should he not be the one to do so? It is not his right, not his right at all to judge the extent to which another being is capable of love or affection, given how little he has ever given or received (oh, sod off Evans Potter, that does not imply a lack of capacity, it's just that he leaves them to rust like metal in the rain; it's a choice).

Tap. tap. tap.

But the fact that it is not his right does not faze him.