Nelliel keeps a lot of positive / nice / encouraging comments about others to herself. She’ll see someone accomplish something and in her head, she’s celebrating that feat, but won’t say it out loud to them, which can be a detrimental thing to them and / or any relationship they have, especially if they wish to seek her approval. Ironically, she thinks she’s doing it for their sake, since she tends to be surrounded by people who are prideful of their abilities. She assumes they will view her words as pity or mocking words , so she says nothing.
This, of course, does not apply to Dondochakka and Pesche who she knows very well, and they, to her. She’s comfortable with them, and so, many analyses on her “cold” characteristics will exclude them.
When she’s gone through kid!Nel, though, she learns to work on this habit of hers and is more keen on saying nice things out loud, regardless of how it’s interpreted. She will sometimes forget, of course, but the intention to grow is there. As for divergent!Nelliel, she has yet to acknowledge how her silence can affect others.
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(continued from this and this)
“Yeah, I just told her to give them the cold shoulder. Don’t have to be mean or anything, just ignore ‘em a little. Play it cool. Drives girls crazy, ‘cause then they have to work to get your attention.”
Eddie stares at him.
“Holy shit, Buckley’s gonna die alone and it’s gonna be a hundred percent your fault. That is the worst fucking advice I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Steve actually looks offended, like his honor’s been impugned. “What the hell, man? I’ve picked up like a million girls that way. I’m telling you, it works.”
“Yeah, okay, now I’m seeing why my sage advice is required for this whole endeavor. That kind of thing might fly if you’re some alpha dog prom king, but lesbians are like…giant pandas or some shit, okay? The conditions have to be precisely calibrated or they’ll just hibernate in a cave by themselves eating bamboo forever.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” says Steve.
Eddie shrugs. “Whatever, I’m not a panda scientist. The point is…okay, let’s do a thought experiment.” Oh, this is a bad, bad idea. The Munson specialty. “Say you wanted to get a guy interested in you. How would you do it?”
“I’d just—” Steve stops, frowning. “I mean, girls usually just…laugh at guys’ jokes and stuff. Or wear, like, makeup?”
“How are you so awful at this,” says Eddie. “Jesus. I swear to god I remember you doing better with girls at school. Anyway, I didn’t ask what girls do, I asked what you’d do.”
“Shit, I don’t know. Isn’t that why I’m here?” Steve’s getting a little huffy, fidgeting. “I’d just…find a way to hang out with the guy, I guess. Laugh at his dumb jokes.”
“Yeah, sure,” Eddie says patiently. “But that’s what you do with friends too, right? And when you’re walking a perilous path far from the bright streets of heterosexuality, you probably don’t want to risk being too obvious, in case you’re wrong. So you gotta just…give them an opening to let them, like, signal if they’re interested. If they’re looking for a sign, they’ll take it.”
Steve wrinkles his nose. “Ok, but what if they’re not interested yet? Like…sometimes girls take a while to warm up to you.”
“Cut your losses and move on.” Admittedly, Eddie’s still working on that part.
“What? Man, I’m starting to think you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eddie scowls at the skeptical look on Steve’s face. “Jesus, the disrespect. Why am I not telling this directly to Buckley, anyway? She’s the one in need of these hard-earned pearls of gay wisdom.”
Steve lets out a big, gusty sigh and tips his head back against the couch. “Because she said if I tried to give her any more help with dating, she’d smother me in my sleep and pin it on Dustin.”
“Attagirl,” says Eddie approvingly.
“But obviously she still needs help, so this is like—a stealth mission. For love.”
“For love,” says Eddie. “Yeah, okay.”
———
“Hey, can you—”
Robin whirls around at the unexpected voice and promptly trips over nothing at all, arms flailing out to avoid crashing into the library returns cart.
“Oh, shit,” says the stranger, reaching out a hand like she’s going to catch Robin’s elbow, but pulling back at the last second. “Um. Sorry.”
Robin blinks down at a girl in head-to-toe black, including dusty black combat boots. “Aren’t you hot,” she says, then wants to die. “I mean—like, just, with the heat and all, it’s a billion degrees out, I think if I tried to wear that much black I’d instantly dissolve like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
The girl stares back at her for a second, then bursts out laughing. It’s a nice laugh.
“As if. I’m from Utah, this is nothing.”
“Oh! Utah! You’re not—are you, uh, Argyle’s girlfriend?” The way Argyle’d described her, Robin had been picturing some kind of Elvira-themed ingenue in lace, maybe smoking like a 1920s flapper. This makes more sense for a real-life teenager, though: oversized t-shirt tucked into ratty black jeans, with some cheap-looking silver jewelry tied around her neck. Her eyeliner’s heavier than anything Robin’s ever seen in Hawkins, smudging messily a little in the heat that’s apparently nothing to her. It makes her look a little bit like a panda bear, but not in a bad way.
“Not anymore.” She grimaces. “Ugh, that sounds mean. We’re, y’know, still friends and everything. I’m Eden.”
“Robin,” says Robin, gesturing at herself like a loser. “Hi.”
“Hi,” says Eden, and smiles at her.
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