( the dormitories are at least calm and quiet, largely empty as he's guided to a given door among dozens of others. makoto follows him inside, and... deep, very deep, inside of himself, there is a part of him that isn't surprised. it just feels understood that dextera's living space would be so sparse, so utterly spartan to the point of barrenness.
the rest of him is appalled, finding it completely abhorrent that he would choose to live like this. it's clean, at the very least, but the bed isn't even properly made, for crying out loud! he doesn't even have a wardrobe — does he only have two sets of clothing and shoes, total? as he steps within and looks around, makoto's initial look of shock slowly curdles into one of horror, and he faces dextera with a dark expression. )
Please tell me you've only been here less than three days, and that's why you haven't bothered to invest in even a simple duvet.
( the way he says it, however, indicates he already knows what the answer is. no... neither of them would be so lucky. )
Where do you expect me to sleep? What do you expect me to wear?
( does this place even have its own bathroom and shower? and, if so, what on earth is the status of it )
[ being chastised by makoto is better than the tense silence as they proceeded through the cornerstone and springstar proper, but only because it’s a reminder that makoto is here. it still makes dextera grimace, as if he truly doesn’t realize what a miserable situation he’s living in until people point it out to him—because, frankly, he doesn’t. it works for him, and when the people who would criticize the state of his room leave, he’s the only person who has to live here.
that has only changed now that makoto is here, and so the questions are uncomfortably valid. ]
You can use my bed.
[ that answers one question, but not even in a particularly satisfactory way. ]
( well. it could be worse. if dextera were, say, living in a dumpster, or on a pile of soiled straw in a livestock stable, or in a damnable doghouse, makoto would be far more critical (and deeply more concerned) than he is now, looking at this sparse room and its spartan amenities. at least it's enough to provide basic comfort and utility, though in the eyes of a demon accustomed to the highest extravagance Hell could offer, it is woefully lacking.
but, even though he isn't aware of it, he is dimly and distantly aware that these quarters make sense for dextera. this doesn't stop makoto from wanting more for him, of course. it doesn't matter what he's accustomed to in his past, in whatever world he originated from or the one they had shared before coming here... life can be a long, horrible, bitter thing. one of the lessons he'd learned fast and roughly from J in Hell is that, in the face of this, one should try to extract as much enjoyment and satisfaction from it as they can.
whenever they can. and at whatever cost to others it might incur. that's just the way of things.
at the reply, makoto frowns. he observes the bed, and then he looks back to his companion, shaking his head stolidly. ) And you would, what, sleep on the floor? Absolutely not. I'm not repaying your kindness by displacing you like that.
( call it kindness, but it's also just a very poor deal. given that makoto has nothing, not even his memories, to help him here, he already feels markedly indebted to dextera for all the help he's offered him. he doesn't want to be even further in the red.
as he considers this, he sidles a little closer to his host, smiling slyly as he asks him in a low and conspiratorial tone, ) ...Would you share it with me?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(2/2)
the rest of him is appalled, finding it completely abhorrent that he would choose to live like this. it's clean, at the very least, but the bed isn't even properly made, for crying out loud! he doesn't even have a wardrobe — does he only have two sets of clothing and shoes, total? as he steps within and looks around, makoto's initial look of shock slowly curdles into one of horror, and he faces dextera with a dark expression. )
Please tell me you've only been here less than three days, and that's why you haven't bothered to invest in even a simple duvet.
( the way he says it, however, indicates he already knows what the answer is. no... neither of them would be so lucky. )
Where do you expect me to sleep? What do you expect me to wear?
( does this place even have its own bathroom and shower? and, if so, what on earth is the status of it )
no subject
that has only changed now that makoto is here, and so the questions are uncomfortably valid. ]
You can use my bed.
[ that answers one question, but not even in a particularly satisfactory way. ]
no subject
but, even though he isn't aware of it, he is dimly and distantly aware that these quarters make sense for dextera. this doesn't stop makoto from wanting more for him, of course. it doesn't matter what he's accustomed to in his past, in whatever world he originated from or the one they had shared before coming here... life can be a long, horrible, bitter thing. one of the lessons he'd learned fast and roughly from J in Hell is that, in the face of this, one should try to extract as much enjoyment and satisfaction from it as they can.
whenever they can. and at whatever cost to others it might incur. that's just the way of things.
at the reply, makoto frowns. he observes the bed, and then he looks back to his companion, shaking his head stolidly. ) And you would, what, sleep on the floor? Absolutely not. I'm not repaying your kindness by displacing you like that.
( call it kindness, but it's also just a very poor deal. given that makoto has nothing, not even his memories, to help him here, he already feels markedly indebted to dextera for all the help he's offered him. he doesn't want to be even further in the red.
as he considers this, he sidles a little closer to his host, smiling slyly as he asks him in a low and conspiratorial tone, ) ...Would you share it with me?
( he's mostly teasing him. ...mostly. )