[F01/PP]Fallout

[Oscar 0]

The conversation had turned serious. As they stopped in front of the bakery, the whole vibe changed. Still friendly, but the air was heavy. But Oscar stopped and listened. He appreciated the candor. And he appreciated the fun history lesson that Lessa so unceremoniously dumped on his plate. He probably shouldn’t have. The topic was too serious, responses needed to be measured. But he simply couldn’t help himself. Staring straight into her eyes, the laughter escaped him. Loud, boisterous - bringing tears to his eyes. He couldn’t stand up straight, holding his stomach as he doubled over. His breath left him, eyes grew bloodshot. But finally, it died down. Slowly at first, then into a fit of giggles as he put his hands on his knees.

“Christ,” he choked out. Words eluded him as he endeavored to catch his breath - to collect his composure. Finally, with a heavy, contented sigh he rose back to his full height. His hand moved up to his face, flicking the moisture out of the corners of his eyes. “God I love you. Do you often snake in history lessons into deep conversations? That was A-plus, teach.”

Oscar shook his head, another bout of giggles bursting forth. “Player-killers to Nazis. What a pivot.”

All at once, Oscar collected himself. His visage grew a bit more stern, more serious. Trying to match her energy. Failing, but trying nonetheless. “But seriously,” he began. “I’m not a good man. I know that. But I’m trying to make good. So I need people around me who will call me on my shit if I start to take things too far. I very nearly did. Something about bleeding hearts dripping on my shoes? And I really meant it back then. Now?” Oscar shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked up towards the sky. “I really need that. The blood’s a good reminder. Road to hell is paved with good intentions. Please never stop giving me shit over it when my chill eludes me.”