[ Robby doesn't mean to disrupt the moment, but if Mister LaRusso's ready to come out of the hug, then he doesn't fight it. He pulls back to keep himself up by his own weight, smiling a little at the older man when their eyes catch; uncertain, embarrassed, but more in the way that's suitable for two people meeting after so long and with the missteps made between them: where this all feels like it should be unreal, but somehow, it isn't.
Even seeing Mister LaRusso's face so close--and even with its marks, its bruising--is so much to him. ]
I'll get some, [ he tells him about the medicine and the food, already starting to lift himself off from the bed. His feet don't get in the way of what's on the floor, and he doesn't think to pick it up; and it seems Mister LaRusso is doing so when he spots him going for his phone, the man's own still in his jacket pocket. Robby's about to let him know about it, but the words catch in his throat when he notices where Mister LaRusso's attention goes next, what pauses him in his place.
The faces he can see smiling underneath the glass.
It pauses Robby as well, watching Mister LaRusso pick up the framed photo into his hand, examining it for a while. He stays standing there by the bed, even when Mister LaRusso sits back down again, typing out what turns out to be a text-to-voice message. Wondering what he's thinking, curious about what he might say--does Mister LaRusso remember that day? Did he put it in the packaging he found it in?
Admittedly, the voice from the phone unnerves him a little, but Robby shakes it off. Right-- ]
Did you hear about the bank? My roommate wanted to check it out, so I went with him. Turned out the back room had a bunch of storage drawers with stuff in them that belongs to people. That was in my drawer.
[ He nods to the frame at that end, and then remembers what else he has on him: what now feels like it's burning in his pocket, and even thinking about it makes him add: ]
Someone had my juvie forms in hers.
[ And if Mister LaRusso looks at him then, Robby will miss his eye, look away. ]
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Even seeing Mister LaRusso's face so close--and even with its marks, its bruising--is so much to him. ]
I'll get some, [ he tells him about the medicine and the food, already starting to lift himself off from the bed. His feet don't get in the way of what's on the floor, and he doesn't think to pick it up; and it seems Mister LaRusso is doing so when he spots him going for his phone, the man's own still in his jacket pocket. Robby's about to let him know about it, but the words catch in his throat when he notices where Mister LaRusso's attention goes next, what pauses him in his place.
The faces he can see smiling underneath the glass.
It pauses Robby as well, watching Mister LaRusso pick up the framed photo into his hand, examining it for a while. He stays standing there by the bed, even when Mister LaRusso sits back down again, typing out what turns out to be a text-to-voice message. Wondering what he's thinking, curious about what he might say--does Mister LaRusso remember that day? Did he put it in the packaging he found it in?
Admittedly, the voice from the phone unnerves him a little, but Robby shakes it off. Right-- ]
Did you hear about the bank? My roommate wanted to check it out, so I went with him. Turned out the back room had a bunch of storage drawers with stuff in them that belongs to people. That was in my drawer.
[ He nods to the frame at that end, and then remembers what else he has on him: what now feels like it's burning in his pocket, and even thinking about it makes him add: ]
Someone had my juvie forms in hers.
[ And if Mister LaRusso looks at him then, Robby will miss his eye, look away. ]