💗 Oct. Ro Q&A 💗

Imagine my surprise when I started writing this, and remembering that M has already met all the Ro's. (M's upcoming pov has them meeting Cam for the first time, as well as a little meeting with G.)

Word Count: 4,229

M: “Alright Cam, do you ever worry that the reality of being with MC won’t live up to the fantasy?”

Cam snorts a laugh, teetering back in his chair. Another inch and he’s going to fall, but that doesn’t stop how hard he shakes his head. “You kiddin’? Honestly, I worry about the opposite.”

M: “That it will be too good to be true?”

Cam: “For them to choose me out of anyone else. Yeah, it would have to be a dream. The best damn dream, though. Being with them, that’s worth it.”

M: “Why did you choose photography?”

Cam: “Oh, that’s easy. Turn around, and look at what’s on the middle shelf, beside the bat plush.”

M turns, easily spotting what Cam was talking about. A photo of Cam, Mc with an arm slung around Emma, and what must be MC’s dog.

M: “Care to explain?”

Cam: “It’s a photograph, sure,” Cam reaches for the photo, giving M a small smile as they hand it to him carefully. “It’s also a memory. This was the day that Em got her res- “he stops, glancing at M and then back to the photo. “Let’s just say it was a great fucking day, and it’s right here. That moment forever captures the joy we all felt. No matter what happens after, we’ll remember how happy we were at that moment.”

“I want to do that for other people, the good the bad. A photo captures the essence of a moment.”

M: “What’s your process like, do you sketch, make a visual board? What do you do to get into the groove for a shoot?”

Cam: “First, music. It helps me tune out things that can harm the process. I don’t know if I would call it sketching. My drawing is like my writing. Chicken scratch, but I do like to jot down what I would like to see. I consider who the client is, what they want, and I go from there. You want a photo to capture your attention, but you also want it to elicit a certain emotion.”

M quirks a brow at Cam. He’s more well versed than I thought.

Cam: “Then I kind of make a mood board. I pull in all the elements like color, maybe the type of lighting, set up the composition ahead of time. Then you must think of your model. I like to get feedback, to make sure they’re comfortable with what’s happening and what they’re wearing. It’s an entire process.”

 M: “Sounds like it. Alright, what would you say to someone who regrets their choices, and how do you handle regret?”

Cam: He thinks for a moment, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “I think it depends on what that choice is, and why they regret it. It’s impossible to live without regret, that’s part of life. There’s going to be something you do at some point or other that you don’t vibe with anymore.” Cam allows his eyes to glance around the room. His thoughts are elsewhere, thinking of a moment that damn near ruined him.

“I would say try to come to terms with your decision as best you can.”

M: “And how do you handle it, the regret?”

Cam shrugs, his fingers ghosting over a piercing on his ear. “I don’t.”

M: “What’s something you would like to do with your significant other?”

Cam quirks a brow, his lip pulling into a smirk.

M: “The safe for work version, please.”

Cam: “I would like to get a piercing together or something. Something that can just be ours. Oh, and spend a weekend in a yurt. Have you seen one of those things? So cool.” Cam’s eyes widen in wonder, as he continues to talk about a yurt, motioning with his hand how it’s built around a tree.

M: “What is your idea of a perfect date?”

Cam: “Dinner and a movie are too easy.” He pats his thigh, bumping his knee against the table above. “Honestly, just time together. I don’t care about the rest. What we do, where we are. Maybe cooking together? I would really like to get to a point where I can cook something for Red- I mean my partner.”

M: “Right, not MC. Gotcha. Okay, what is your favorite memory with MC?”

Cam: “Ugh.” He sighs, leaning back in the chair once more. “That’s too hard. There’s so many. That’s like asking what my favorite food is., and I love food. Love it.”

M: “Just food?”

A gasp catches in Cam’s throat as he leans back, realizing too late that he leaned too far. He falls back hard, head thumping against the ground, causing M to wince.

M: “Are you okay!?”

Cam covers his face with his hands, the tips of his ears a nice red shade. “Fine!” He squeaks, rolling over onto his side and pulling his knees up in a fetal position.

M pecks on G’s door, increasing the speed of their knuckle against the wood. “Coming!” G yells, voice muffled by the thickness of the door.

After pulling it open, they toss a towel over their shoulder, motioning M to come in.

“That my package?” G asks, pointing at the box tucked under M’s arm.

“Oh yeah, they left it at my door again. Alright, I know it’s a busy night for you, so let’s get this started.” M walks over to a chair, folding their legs under them as they reach for their notepad.

M: “Do you believe in the invisible string theory?”

G: “Is that honestly your first question?”

M nods, tapping a blue pen against their knee.

G: They grab their towel, lean over, and rub it against their hair. It’s hard to tell whether they do this as a nervous reflex or to hide the emotions that may show on their face.

“No.”

M: “That’s it? Just, no?”

G: “What more do you want?”

M: “Reasoning would be nice.”

G: “I can see how the thought is appealing to people. It’s a nice thought, something that binds you to another person. Being pulled towards one another. But then, doesn’t that also mean you’re tied to that fate, no matter how much you don’t want it? You can’t change it. If fate exists, why did it allow us-“

M: “Us?”

G: “I misspoke.” G is silent for a while, slinging the towel over the back of their neck as clasp their hands against their face. “Why would it allow two people to be torn apart?”

M: “Quite the cynic.”

G: “I prefer the term realist.”

M: “What do you do to decompress after a hard day at work?”

G: “I like to go to the café, get tea and a pastry. Then I come home and relax. Read a good book. Or a walk.”

M: “Long walks on the be-“

G: “I like to walk some of the animals from the clinic. No long walks on the beach, thank you.” G smiles briefly at the pout on M’s face. If M thought they were going to get some bleeding heart just because they’re friends, they have another thing coming.

M: “What do you think of dating?”

G: “In general, or?”

M nods, deciding to doodle on the corner of a page as G sorts out their thoughts.

G: “I hate it. Finding a date, that is. How you’re expected to communicate and get to know someone over text. People have a different persona online. I feel like it isn’t as genuine. Modern dating dynamics aren’t for me. You’re stuck to swiping, and the ghosting. What is that? Why waste someone’s time? It all feels so trivial.”

M: “Spoken like a true romantic if I ever heard one.” M teases, ignoring the look sent their way.

No matter how much G denies it, M knew that was part of it. They longed for a deeper connection, which was as obvious as the pain on their face when they thought no one was looking.

(for ex g) M: “Why did you fall for them, your friend?”

G’s hands sit clasped on their lap, thumbs twirling around one another. Their face is blank, emotions hidden behind a wall built so strong and thick it was near impenetrable. Their eyes meet M’s briefly, enough that M feels their breath catch as they witness the emotions swirling within those dark eyes.

G: “I think that’s enough for today. I need to get ready.” G stands walking over to open the door for M.

M: “One more question. Last one.”

G: “Last one.”

M: “Do you miss them?”

G: They think it over, their hand gripping the door handle as they chew on the inside of their mouth. Every day.

 “No.”

M passes the latte toward Kara, scooching into the booth until they’re pressed against the wall. She gives a soft smile, allowing her fingers to curl against the cup and takes a slow sip.

M: “How do you like being a little sister?”

Kara: Her lips curl into a half smile, “It’s all I know, but I think I enjoy it. It’s nice having older siblings who want to look out for you.”

M: “What two words do you think identify you, and what two words would you use for your siblings?”

Kara: “How cringe is it if I call myself attractive?”

M huffs a laugh, covering their mouth and hopefully concealing their blush. Someone looking at them so intently was not in the cards for today. “I think it’s fine.” They whisper, taking a quick sip of their drink.

Kara: “No, I’ll save that for Isaac. Oh, I know,” she snaps her fingers, angling more towards M as her eyes alight. “Driven. And envious.”

M: “Oh, both good words. Care to explain why?”

Kara: “Have to keep a little mystery, right?”

M : They shrug, “Suppose so, alright, what two words for your siblings?”

Kara: “For Chris, misunderstood and protective. Cam, hmm.” Her expression changes quickly. Like she’s struggling to think of a word, likely because of her relationship with Cam. Because there wasn’t much of a relationship, not like she had with Chris.

“For Cam, I would say loyal and distant.”

M: “How did you start consulting?”

Kara: “Oh, no I don’t consult, not exactly. I work as a receptionist at EagleCrest, but I’m also expected to help at the family law firm.”

M: “Didn’t you help MC with their business?”

Kara: She scrunches her nose, eyes darting around as if looking to see if anyone overheard the conversation. “I wouldn’t go that far; I was just helping a friend. Nothing more than that.”

M: “How did you become friends with MC?”

Kara: Her face lights up, as she pushes away an unruly strand of blonde hair. “It was natural, honestly. They helped me a lot in Infinity. I was like a fish out of water. I couldn’t even work the printer. Despite being bogged down with work, they didn’t hesitate to help. We’ve known each other for years, but that was the first time it was just us. I really got to know them as a person, instead of my sibling’s best friend, or Chris’ fiancé. 

M: “What did you think of them before that?”

Kara: “Honestly, it felt like they were some mythical creature before. Untouchable. Because when Cam wasn't hogging their time, Chris was. I never got a word in because of those two. I didn’t really have an exact thought of them, other than mystical. Which sounds childish.”

M: “I think I know what you mean, though. They were just out of reach.”

Kara: “Yeah, something like that.”

M: “Who are the other people that can make you smile, truly smile?”

Kara: “My friend Isaac. They know exactly what to say to make me feel better, oh and…. well, their name isn’t important. But another person they’re kind, passionate, they make me smile as well.”

M: “What was your relationship with Cam and Chris, before the…affair?”

Kara: She sighs heavily, turning in her chair to motion for Mira to bring her a cupcake. “I..I guess the same. Nothing has changed in my relationships with the two of them.”

M: “Even though Chris-“

Kara: “Do you want a pastry? My treat.” She stands, not letting M finish their questioning as she walks to the register.

 “Ooh, wait. People have questions for me?” M looks around the room, the cluttered space of an office they’ve yet to straighten up.

“Is it weird if I just ask them out loud? I can interview myself…normal behavior. Characters in anime talk to themselves. Oh, okay, okay, think of this as my anime monologue.”

M clears their throat, trying to change their voice into how they imagined a hero would sound.

M: “Favorite gift you’ve ever received, who did you receive it from, and why is it so special?”

“Hmm, probably the typewriter that my parents got me as a gift for publishing my first book.”

M stands, walking over to sit in the chair that's opposite to the one they were just in, they smack their hand against the yellow-lined paper.

M: “Scariest thing that has ever happened to you?”

“Had to be during the annual holiday feast Ardent throws. He had a partner over at the time and wanted to impress them. I was hungry.” M giggles, rubbing a hand over their stomach as it grumbles at the memory.

“So really…it wasn’t my fault. But I cut a piece of cake before he got to show it off and he was so pissed…that was an excellent cake, though. Karidopita, I think he called it. Anyway, I've never run so fast in my life when he saw me stuffing my face."

M: “When you look at other people does your mind fill in the blank on what their lives are like?”

They chew on the end of their pen, a habit they picked up back in college. One they've yet to break. “I believe I’m decent at understanding people, to some extent. I have a knack for being perceptive, so yeah. Though I doubt I’m right half the time.”

M: “What are some of your positive traits and capital sin?”

“Why thank you M, what a thrilling question.” M swings their arms around, propping their chin on their hand.

“I’m a hard worker. Oh, and I believe everyone deserves a chance, you can’t just judge someone by word of mouth. I think I’m fair and protective of people. Not everyone can protect themselves.”

“Capital sin? Hm. Maybe…no..does that apply?” They grab their phone, searching for something to better help them answer the question. “Guess it does…then..lust..or envy.”

They can’t help but blush at themselves, the idea of lust being a capital sin. It's possible, they suppose. Given their writing tends to make their thoughts spiral into 18+ territory.

M: “How often do you find yourself in a daydream?”

“At least four times a day, at least.”

M: “Oh, this is a good one. What do you think of the age-old, ‘write what you know’ saying?”

They shoot a sheepish gaze at one of their books on the desk, erotica. They have no experience with it whatsoever. But, they can write it.

“I think it depends. I agree with it to a point, I do. Especially when it comes to relationships. I also think some things you don’t need firsthand experience with, but you need to do your research…. which is what we’re going to refer to the tab that's open on my desktop as."

M picks up the paper, reading over the next question before they begin to giggle. “C’mon get it together.” They whisper, a wide smile cutting through their face as they smack themselves on the cheek to try and control the blush.

They cough into their hand, ignoring the slight flutter in their stomach as they read the question again.

M: “What do you look for in a partner?”

“Wow….I don’t think I’ve really given it thought before.” They suck in a breath, looking at the papers stacked along their desk. No rhyme or reason for the method they’re organized in. “Someone kind, that’s a given. Passionate. Someone who can accept…me, all of me. The parts they can’t see too, the parts I’m afraid they’ll hate. Someone I can be myself with.”

They jot down their thought, marking it out feverishly and deciding to write it neatly. It was a good answer. They had to pride themselves on that.

“Hiya Isaac, you got a package for me?” M swings the door open, making way for Isaac to walk in.

“You know damn well I have a package; you’ve asked about it for the past week.” Isaac cautiously deposits the package into M’s hands, watching as their eyes light up.

“What’s it this time, M&M?”

M waves a hand, ignoring the pet name Isaac gave them years ago. They carefully set the box on their table as they hop up onto the island in the kitchen. “I can show you once we finish this.” They nod to the notepad on the counter.

Isaac shrugs, leaning their back against the wall, arms crossed along their chest as they watch M. “Let’s get to it then.”

M: “What do you do for a living?”

Isaac scoffs, pointing a finger at the box they just delivered. “That.”

M nods, jotting it down. “Yeah, I got a couple of those questions. People think you’re hiding something, isn’t that funny?”

Isaac shrugs, not looking at M as they began tracing a bruise along their forearm. “If I did, it would probably be better for everyone if it stays hidden.” They whisper.

“What was that?” M asks, eyes roaming back to the package beside them. Isaac shakes their head and motions for M to continue.

M: “Do people try to.. wait.. oh nope, that is definitely what that says.” M clears their throat, eyes wandering up to Isaac and then back to the paper. “Do people try to hook up with you and do you steer clear of certain traits?”

“I’m not big on hook-up culture. I get needing to let off some steam.”

“Steam?” M mouths.

“I will from time to time. But it’s not something I do weekly or anything. As for staying clear of people,” They shrug, twirling the key ring of their car keys around their finger, a metallic sound filling the emptiness.

M: “Oh, this one is interesting. What happened between you and Ardent?

Isaac: “What usually happens when people find they’re not a match? Listen, you probably can’t tell it by how he carries himself, but he’s a family man. That’s important to him. Getting to know them is important to him, and I can’t.”

M: “Can’t?”

Isaac lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand on the back of their neck, fingers rubbing at the small dusting of curls that they need to trim. “I can’t get close to people like that. There would come a point that he would need me to step up…and I can’t, not for him.”

M shot him a look. They could feel the curiosity gnawing in their gut, wanting to know more. The two had been very hush hush about what happened between them. But, knowing Isaac, he wouldn’t answer.

M: “Have you ever seen someone take pictures of your car?”

He gives a cocky grin, “Wouldn’t you take a picture of something gorgeous? Like me, for example.” Isaac wiggles their brows at M, only causing them to roll their eyes.

M: “Why is your car so important to you?”

Isaac smiles, something they seldom do, their blue eyes light up at the mention of their prized possession.

Isaac: “My mom,” they begin words catching in their throat. “She tried hard to give me a life better than her own. For the most part, she did. She busted her ass at dive bars, at little restaurants. She busted her ass for me. She would save a little here and there, ya know?”

M doesn’t bother to interrupt, afraid one single word would break whatever has come over Isaac, this is the most they’ve heard them talk before when their blonde bestie isn’t around.

“She had always wanted me to have things of my own, things that were just mine. Not some junker, or something my dad stole, or some loaner. I wanted to make her proud, right? So, I took a job at like sixteen, I worked anywhere. It didn’t matter if it paid.”

M notices the look that passes over Isaac’s face, they’ve seen that look before in the mirror. Something dark and twisted, something you hide away. Afraid it will leak out and show your vulnerability.

“I promised her I would have a life she didn’t, things she couldn’t. After…after. I took everything, savings, all of it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the car for me. Started being independent after that, not relying on people like she did on my dad…anyway, sorry. That was a long answer, but the best purchase ever.”

Ardent sets down a drink in front of M, the glass glistening from condensation. “Alright, you’ve got twenty. I gotta man the bar until Nik gets back. So, make it quick.”

M nods, taking a small napkin and wiping the side of the glass. “How much do I owe?”

“It’s on the house,” Ardent says, voice low as he eyes the other patrons of the bar.

M: “Okay, thanks. Uuuhh…oh questions. What was your childhood like?”

Ardent balks at the question, and when he realizes M isn’t joking, he begins to laugh. A full-bodied chuckle caused him to bend over at the waist and rest his forearms on the bar top.

“Give me that.” Ardent doesn’t wait for M, taking a swig of the drink. “Next question.”

“But-“

Ardent leaves no room for argument, tapping a finger on the paper resting in front of M. “Next, thanks.”

M pinches their lips, they don’t want to scowl at Ardent, but sometimes it’s just too easy to shoot him a glare.

M: “Do you enjoy managing tenants?”

Ardent blows a breath, grabs a handful of nuts, and begins to munch on them. “Not in the least.”

M: “Then why do you do it?”

“For my parents, they’re old. They can’t manage everything; I don’t know why they even bothered purchasing the place. But someone has to make sure the job gets done right?”

M: “If you weren’t a landlord, what would you be?”

He thinks about it, mulling it over in his head as he wonders if he admits it. Here in a dingy bar. Most people here are drunk off their asses. It’s not like they would remember what he says among friends.

“A chef. Maybe. I don’t know.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, much to M’s surprise. There’s a hint of embarrassment there, as Ardent rubs his hand along the stubble of his chin. A flushing of his cheeks that M doesn’t believe they’ve seen before. Ardent’s posture is a little hunched, arms crossed protectively as he looks along the patrons.

It made sense, Ardent is a great cook. If there’s time to see him in his zone, it’s when he’s got an apron wrapped around his waist and he’s yelling at people to get out of his way with a pan in hand.

If M was going to ask a hard-hitting question, now would be the time, when he's less guarded. Slightly buzzed.

M: “Do you feel like anything is missing in your life?”

Ardent: “In my life? Nah, I got little shits coming in here getting mad over some sports channel on the television. I’ve got about five radiators to fix back at the complex, and I go home to a cat who would skin me alive if I forgot to get her snacks.”

Sarcasm, typical.

M: “Last one, what happened between you and Isaac?”

Ardent clicks his tongue, grabbing the drink off the bar and chugging it. A lone strand of alcohol slips down his chin. He rubs it away roughly, the scars on his forearm catching in the light.

“How about we talk about what’s happening between you and me? It’s more interesting, I can tell ya that.”

M’s cheeks flush bright red, their eyes widen in surprise. They begin blinking rapidly, taken aback, and begin to stammer out a response. “Uh-no, I didn’t…I don’t…no.. me...no.”

“Come on, Marshmallow, use your words. That’s something writers are supposed to be good at, right?”

M’s eye twitches. They know when Ardent is teasing them, trying to change the subject. “I..ahem.I don’t like you that way. You’re not my type.” M’s expression is of embarrassment and discomfort, feeling as if their words are louder now that more people are taking notice.

It’s hard not to feel rattled by Ardent, that deep gaze he gives.

“If I’m not your type, then why am I your muse for that book?”

“You’re the reader's type.” M murmurs, standing from their chair and grabbing their notepad. “That whole macho attitude and heart of gold.”

“Heart of…what did you say!?” Ardent yells, reaching to catch the corner of M’s sweater, but surprisingly. M is quick. They’re out of the door before Ardent even makes it around the bar.