theroleplaybin | All that time never truly seeing the things the way they were...

"They do! It's really cool, Unca Scrooge. I mean, I don't know if you'd like being down there for too long-" A little snicker. "-but whenever I go visit for a while, I don't know, it just feels really nice. Like home did before I knew some of the stuff I know now."

Before he'd realized how tough things were for Uncle Donald, honestly - and how tight the family's money was. Before he'd figured out they were barely making ends meet. Before he'd promised himself he wouldn't grow up to struggle like that, and would never put in all that work for nothing, like Donald did.

That got a genuine curious glance from him, as he handed over Louie's drink.

"Before you knew.. what?"

He'd never talked about this with anyone. Not even Donald himself... Louie's smile faded a little. But he trusted Scrooge so much- he could talk to him about it. Besides, he'd let that slip out. It was only fair, he supposed.

"Before I knew how much trouble Uncle Donald has... You know, with finding jobs - and keeping jobs - and money- stuff like that."

He finally refocused his gaze as he finished talking, looking first at the mug, then up to Scrooge, then back at the mug as he wrapped his hands around it. It was nice and warm, a welcome comfort just now.

"Ahh, I see." Gesturing a little, he walked over to the table and sat down with Louie. "I can certainly see why that might crack one's view a little."

He paused, sipping his own drink, taking his time as he put his words together. Setting the mug down, he laid both hands around it.

"I'd wager that's why you are the way you are, aye?" He held a hand up slightly, then rested it back. "I know because that's the way it is with me, too."

Louie sat down across from Scrooge, and had opened his beak to protest when the older duck held up his hand.

As Scrooge went on, Louie's eyes went wide, and he swallowed - which was a bit difficult. His throat and mouth were suddenly dry. "Y...Yeah?" he managed to croak out. "Is it really?"

"I grew up having nothing. Less than nothing, honestly. And over time, I learned that's why I cling so tightly to everything I've gained since."

A long drink, then he continued.

"That's somethin' about poverty, you know. Growing up in that sort of environment, you get a mindset of 'easy come, easy go.' And it's always more 'go' than 'come,' so when you finally have something, anything, you want to keep it. Especially if it's money.

"Of course, the converse can also happen. One can become quite the spendthrift even if they grew up poor, to buy the finer things you've been denied so long while you've got the money to spend. I, and I believe you, belong more to the former, though."

Louie glanced off to the side, blushing a bit. "I... Paid a hundred million for an ottoman," he mumbled. "But yeah. You have the right idea."

He sighed and looked back up at Scrooge. "Look, Uncle Donald does a lot for me and my brothers, and I appreciate it! But... I don't want a life like his."

Scrooge glanced at Louie, then laughed lightly. "So, you're a little bit o' both. I'm still right."

A lightly teasing smile, and he went on. "I don't blame you, in wanting a life where you're comfortable." He looked up toward the ceiling, thoughtfully rubbing his thumb on his mug.

"Fraggles don't have money, do they."

That was a nice affirmation, honestly - hearing that it was okay for him to want a comfortable life as he grew older. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if that was something he just... Wasn't supposed to expect to have.

"Thanks. And nah, Fraggles... Don't use money. Oh."

He nodded a bit to himself, then glanced at Louie.

"Can I share a bit of a secret with you? Something I've figured out over time."

Louie nodded, a bit hesitantly. "Sure, Unca Scrooge. What's up?"

A slight smile. "I think if others heard me say this, they'd check to see I hadn't finally lost it." He laughed softly.

"Money is nothing but a bother and a stressor. That's not to say you shouldn't strive for a comfortable life, I want you to. But ultimate riches are more trouble than they're worth. I believe you know a bit o' that yourself now, eh?"

He tilted his head back some, looking somewhat toward the ceiling, but more staring off into the distance. "I get plenty of pleasure out of money. Of swimming and diving through it, and tossin' it up and letting it hit me on the head. And I loved the life I had to get to the spot I am now, and the thrill of keeping it there. But at the same time, I can't ignore what it's done to me over time." As he talked, his hand strayed to his chest, fingertips rubbing idly. "The secret is, there's more to life than money. Than having riches, having it all, and fighting to keep it. You can scrape and scrimp and fight and save all your life, even get five cubic acres of it if you really tried...

"But you won't be rich."

Louie smiled, at first, but his smile faded into something less comfortable and content as Scrooge went on. It kind of shook things to hear him say that, even if he'd alluded to as much in the past.

Besides, he could recall a few other - similar - times where Scrooge had placed a hand to his chest that way, and it left Louie a bit unnerved - he couldn't place why, though.

"Right..." He said after a moment. He did believe Scrooge, it was just a lot to take in. "So what does make a person rich, would you say?"

Scrooge waved a hand up toward the ceiling, and let that first 'answer' hang a moment before he decided to elaborate.

"Tell me, lad. How do you feel when you're on your own versus around other people? What about the way you feel when you've stolen treasure rather than earned it on your own? Or earned it for other people?"

Louie raised his eyebrows, and made a weak attempt at laughter. "Con. I con people into giving me things, I don't steal. And when I do that, it's kind of - I mean, I feel really clever, but... Especially lately, it kind of feels crummy. But when I've really worked for it, for myself or someone else... That's different. I feel clever then, too, most of the time. But I also feel warm, a-and... Like I did something worth doing."

He shrugged a little, tapping his fingers against the mug. "That first question, though? That's really complicated..."

"It feels kind o' crummy because it is crummy, lad. No matter how much you try to differentiate it, a con is theft. What's truly worth doing is going to be making it for other people, or yourself, honestly."

He rested his elbows on the tabletop, the mug held between his hands. "If you'd like to take the time to work out an answer to the first question, time is what we have."

Louie’s blush, which hadn’t quite faded, deepened. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to respond to that statement honestly. It was theft... But admitting that wasn’t something his pride was ready for.

So he just nodded, and gave the other question some thought. “...Okay, hear me out: I don’t like being alone. I don’t know what to do with myself when I don’t have someone I can talk to, for one thing.” Besides, the silence have him far too much space to think - and to worry. “But when I’m with most other people... It’s not totally real. I mean- I’m not totally real, or not totally honest, I guess? I don’t know, it’s not like- I don’t think about it, it just happens.”

He sighed and slumped forward in his chair, defeated.

He was quiet a few moments, digesting that answer, looking off toward the window. At length he drew in a breath, and let it out in a slow, soft sigh.

"It's only natural to put up a defense, or feel like you have to, when around other people. Particularly when you feel you need that shield, to protect who you are."

He turned back to Louie, watching him. "Or... who you think you are. I know you have some conflict o'er that. Could that be why you have problems being alone?"

Louie shrugged, and at first that was all... But after a few moments passed, he gave a single nod of his head.

"Maybe."

He nodded, that having been the answer he was expecting.

"And now, suddenly, you have a friend that's someone not from the Manor. Either o' them. Not only that, but this friend is someone who, to my understanding, places a high value on individualism by the very nature of his culture. And yet, there's still an overarching nature of cooperation, of how the individuals work together.

"Is it any wonder you bonded to him so well, so quickly? You have the need to figure out who you are, and you find someone who can help you do just that."

Louie nodded again, this time more than once. "Yeah. I... I guess so. But-"

But that was scary, in a way, because what if he found out who he was and other people didn't like him? What if he didn't like him?

He caught something in Louie's tone, looking up toward him curiously.

"But what?"

Louie glanced away with a sigh. "I... I don't like talking about this stuff. You know that."

"I do know that, which is why I hope you can see that I wouldn't be asking this idly."

"Well... Yeah, I know," Louie murmured. "Okay, fine. Maybe the thing about all of this stuff that's hard is... What if who I am isn't, you know, someone I like?"

Being liked by others if he was truly himself was, again, also a concern... But it was also more embarrassing to bring up, in Louie's mind.

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