Re: log: welcome home - adrian and dietre
Sieglinde’s ears perked, bright eyes locked on that dangling bacon strip, intent, hopeful. She sagged in disappointment when it didn’t fall, and did the dog equivalent to pouting by laying on her belly with her muzzle resting on her forepaws, doing her best to look pathetic and forlorn. Dietre was protective of her, but in this case he felt she deserved the disappointment, as she should know better than to beg for people food while it was being cooked.
“Well…,” he began with some reluctance, “The piano is in an abandoned house in the woods, so no one actually owns it, technically… But a friend of mine used to stay there, and since he is the one who told me about it and brought me there to show me, I wouldn’t feel right staking claim to it all of a sudden.” He was probably making this all more complicated than it really was. Par for the course, when it came to Dietre. “And there isn’t a road there anymore, so I would think it’d be quite hard to get a truck there.”
“The thought of it falling further into disrepair is rather sad.” He breathed a mournful sigh, full of pity for the poor piano. He knew what it was to be left alone in a terrible place. But he was being silly, anthropomorphizing an instrument. The piano was not aware that it had been abandoned, it was not aware of anything at all. “I’ll have to think it over more to see if it would be worth the bother…”
“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. I’m-- I don’t have many friends. There’ll be no parties.” His gaze dropped as he said this, and he looked both sad and uncomfortable discussing his lack of a social life. Adrian was meant to be his company, or at least, that seemed to be Misha’s intention in having him move here.
Clearing his throat, Dietre tried to change the subject. He gestured to the stove, “That does smell good. I didn’t think I was hungry until now.”