[After Scarlet, the color red will probably always get Brook's attention. Little Red Riding Hood's hood is nothing like his fellow Reaper's coat, of course, and the woman huddled within it bears no resemblance to his first and only friend, but something about the way she's curled up like that reminds him of...
Scarlet, kneeling bonelessly as she cried, arms wrapped tightly around herself like her sides might otherwise collapse and spill out what was left of her on hell's cracked, ash-blackened earth. Brook himself, all his joints folding as though his sinews were dissolving right out of him, simultaneously scrunching himself as small as he could and pressing as much of himself as possible against the carpet, the mirrored door, his own clutching, desperate hands, to convince himself he was there in that dead stranger's living room. And failing. And falling apart.
He wanders over without consciously deciding to. Before he knows it, he's crouching before Ghost with his arms tucked around his body, less like a cool pose and more like a sympathy self-hug. In his pink jacket and Easter Bunny onesie, it's hard to imagine anyone could be more perfectly crafted to be non-frightening and inoffensive if they'd tried. He's so small, empty-handed, and soft-looking.]
...Oh. Hey. It's you.
[Despite the hood, it's the hair he recognizes. Brook pauses, unsure what to do next.]
...Do you want some candy? Chocolate?
[It's what he might have wanted, he thinks, if Scarlet hadn't been there with a hug.]
iv.
Scarlet, kneeling bonelessly as she cried, arms wrapped tightly around herself like her sides might otherwise collapse and spill out what was left of her on hell's cracked, ash-blackened earth. Brook himself, all his joints folding as though his sinews were dissolving right out of him, simultaneously scrunching himself as small as he could and pressing as much of himself as possible against the carpet, the mirrored door, his own clutching, desperate hands, to convince himself he was there in that dead stranger's living room. And failing. And falling apart.
He wanders over without consciously deciding to. Before he knows it, he's crouching before Ghost with his arms tucked around his body, less like a cool pose and more like a sympathy self-hug. In his pink jacket and Easter Bunny onesie, it's hard to imagine anyone could be more perfectly crafted to be non-frightening and inoffensive if they'd tried. He's so small, empty-handed, and soft-looking.]
...Oh. Hey. It's you.
[Despite the hood, it's the hair he recognizes. Brook pauses, unsure what to do next.]
...Do you want some candy? Chocolate?
[It's what he might have wanted, he thinks, if Scarlet hadn't been there with a hug.]