Diane
Uriel's hand runs back and forth against the small of Margo's back, letting out a small, soothing hum with the repetitive motions. 

"You are Margo Killjoy— do the specifics matter? You're kind, capable, and hyper-intelligent; what did it matter *Why* You was like this, or what labels you use? When all is said and done, one thing is true: you're my roommate."

The specifics didn't matter, at least, not to Uriel. Margo was Margo, and they *Liked* Margo. That was all they thought about it— labeling things like their gender identity or their sexual orientation only managed to confuse them, and they applied that same dislike of labels to their friends. Margo was Margo. What that meant... Well, it was up to Margo. 

"I'm not knocking you out. Saving these feelings, bottling them up to deal with later... It'll only harm you in the long run. I'm not going to mother you— you don't need that— but I won't help you hurt yourself." The words are a bit harsh, but their consistent low lull makes it hard to read anything accusatory.

"Everyone is human, including you. You're bound to bend and break, just like the rest of us... And so long as you pass it on eventually, you deserve that same love, too."

Of course, *Everyone* Deserved love. It was a core need of all humans, and Margo was no exception. She was fragile, just like the rest of them.
Jeannie
◇ And even with all of the warm words, Margo couldn't see herself as anything but a disastrous wreck of a human.

□ Sobbing fiercely into the pillow, much of it was caught in her throat as ingrained beliefs about not wanting to be seen crying fought against the fact that she was entirely overwhelmed emotionally and could barely even string together a solid thought, let alone a whole sentence. She felt like a failure, a train wreck, a disgraceful excuse for a human being, someone who'd be better off dead, and as the tears flowed and her throat began to sting she wallowed in self-hatred, uncertainty, and the mild sensation of a hand on the small of her back.

▪︎ She should have felt comforted, so why did she feel so utterly *Ashamed?*

◆ "Can you *Hic* Just leave me alone, please?" She pled feebly, hands gently kneading the pillow without her even realizing it. Now that a lot of the initial emotional turmoil had subsided, what she felt now were tangible feelings, and they were rife with guilt, self-directed anger, and shame. Her face flushed a deep red, and her stomach sank into her pelvis. "I... Shouldn't be breaking. I really *Hic* Shouldn't. Nobody's going to care about me if i'm not strong all the time..." Maybe it was a lie, but she wasn't thinking clearly, so.
Diane
"Of course we care about you, Margo." Uriel speaks plainly, 

"If you do want me to leave you alone... I'll let you have that time to yourself. But if you're saying that out of self-hatred, or because you don't think you deserve being tended to..."

They trailed off, the rest of their sentence getting caught in their throat. Imagining the self-hatred running through her head, or the needless burden of stoicism she thrusted onto herself made them whine with second-hand hurt. She didn't deserve this— no one did. 

"I don't want to intrude, but I want to be here for you, alright? Do tell me what would be best for you— a distraction with a movie, maybe, or a shoulder to lean on, or just being alone with your thoughts." 

They cough into the crux of their arm, the gesture one born from nervousness more than anything else. 

"I'm... I'm not too skilled with reading people, so..."

Uriel shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden admission on their part. It was a skill they wish they were better at, and envied in those who always had the perfect thing to say. They could *Try* Their best, but it couldn't make up for years of social reclusion and relative inexperience. 

*If only they were someone else*, perhaps they'd be able to help Margo with her woes.
Jeannie
◇ Initially, Margo lay mostly unresponsive, the final throes of an hour and some minutes of built-up emotional anguish coming out with each feeble sob.

□ Of course, though, the magic of crying was that it worked wonders for emotional overload. If anything, it might have been the *Best* Way to deal with it, and as the tears dried up Margo began to feel that comforting warmth descend upon her like a blanket, swaddling her in resolute calm and peace despite her own issues. After a few tense yet stable moments with Uriel's silent presence noted she reached out for her yellow-lensed glasses and put them on, mostly to obscure her eyes as she rolled over fully and let out a sigh.

▪︎ She had some explaining to do.

◆ "I... *Hic* I hate people seeing me cry. I hate showing most emotions in public, if I'm being honest, and... It hurts to be seen when I'm vulnerable. It really *Hic* Does." Barely more than a whisper, Margo quietly confessed one truth after another while staring directly at the ceiling. "I think it's because my dad always made me feel like shit or worse any time I cried. Lots of traditional *I'll give you something to cry about* Type shit. It was awful, and not even estrogen or puberty blockers fixes that mindset I've got hard baked. I... I hope I didn't make you feel unwanted."