superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

The days are as difficult as ever, require enough concentration that any conversation that happens is casual and brief. Their primary focus is, as it should be, keeping themselves and each other alive.

Gustave never seems to fully relax, but it always gets a little easier to breathe when they've finished setting up camp for the night. He drifts over to Verso, leaving Maelle and Sciel to continue their warm and apparently engrossing conversation, and tips his head in hello as he takes a seat on the grass.

"You were really impressive today. Sincerely, I'm not sure we'd be getting along without you." The words are at odds with his dry, quiet delivery: effusive praise, like it's somehow become an inside joke.

Gustave, being nice doesn't count as an inside joke!!!

All the same, Verso cants his head and raises an eyebrow, as if very impressed. "Ah, there's that polite conversation I was missing."

Unironically, yes, he does enjoy the praise (although that might just be the golden child in him talking), but at this point, he's done this journey so many times that it feels almost rote. It would be embarrassing if he weren't 'impressive'.

"I have the advantage of experience," he explains, which is a nicer way to say that what they're doing is nothing new to him. The only thing that is new is Maelle, and— well, Verso probably already fucked up by letting her favorite person live. "This is hardly my first expedition."

"It's true," Gustave agrees lightly. "You knowing this route is pretty much the bare minimum we'd expect from you. I just wasn't sure how else to greet you." His words are wry but genial, and he's poking gentle fun at himself as much as he is referencing their earlier conversation.

He clears his throat a little awkwardly, then continues: "Have you noticed how I'm not grilling you day and night about each one of those previous expeditions? That's my the result of my genuine efforts to be polite."

Because he's a history NERD and an actual primary source for some of these things is enough to make his little nerd heart flutter - but Verso gets enough of that from Lune for now.

Ouch. Sure, Gustave is just agreeing with him, but he didn't have to. He could have lied, like a normal person. (That's what Verso would have done, but lying is pretty much always what he would do.)

He looks back at Gustave for a moment, then turns his gaze away.

"There's nothing to tell, believe me. They weren't that interesting." Or he just doesn't want to relive the memories of what eventually became of all of them. Nonexistence is the ultimate goal, but it's still unpleasant to watch a whole group of people get wiped out of existence because of you and know a new batch of sacrifices will be coming soon.

"...Except," he adds, because he thinks it might amuse Gustave, "The 60s."

The way Gustave's eyes flick to Verso with immediate and open interest is much more obvious than he intends or even realises. "Expedition sixty," he echoes, brow knit in thought, before he makes a little sound of recognition.

"No weapons, no Pictos. They lasted long enough to meet you?" He is trying to rein his curiosity in and doing a very poor job of it.

Verso has always been good about picking up on what people want from him, and so when Gustave replies with obvious interest in the story, he turns toward him more bodily, leaning in as if he's about to share something conspiratorial. Willing to be whatever his companions want him to be, even if, in this case, that role seems to be 'walking history book'.

"All the way to the Monolith," he says, nodding. "I didn't, uh, partake."

Obviously. They had nothing to lose, but Verso would have had to live the rest of his eternal life remembering how he let it hang in the breeze in front of an entire expedition. Besides, by that point, he'd already grown disillusioned with joining expeditions. He'd frequently sworn it off, and then— he's here now, so obviously he reneged. Multiple times.

"I think the Nevrons died of terror before they ever got to them. It was a..." He trails off for a moment, then finishes with a crooked grin, "Harrowing sight."

It's clearly not the answer Gustave is expecting, and he's caught for a moment between pure fascination and incredulity. Collecting this information, recording it for the generations to come - it's the indulgent sort of thing he daydreams about, in the rare moments there's time to daydream.

He shakes his head after a moment, leaning back. "Not a chance. I don't believe you." But there's a laugh on the edge of his voice. Gustave has never quite been cold to Verso, but he's been plenty wary. This is easily the warmest expression he's worn when speaking directly with him.

This is the most truth Verso's told in a while; funny, that this is the thing Gustave struggles to believe. Making a cross over his chest, Verso says, "Cross my heart and hope to... well."

He's always hoping to die. No such luck yet, though.

"Thinking about giving it a shot? Maybe it'll get us to the Monolith."

Probably not. Even disregarding the humiliation aspect, the 60s were brawly. Their strongest member is probably Monoco, and Verso really doesn't want to see him naked, thanks.

Gustave leans back just enough to look at the women (and teenage girl) chatting companionably in the flickering light of the fire, before he glances at Verso with another quiet laugh. "I see. You're just trying to get me thrown into the middle of the ocean."

It's ridiculous, he knows, but - it's simply been a long time since he's had to get to know someone brand new. Lumiere's population was dwindling, and he'd kept quite an insulated social circle in the years leading up to their expedition. Casual banter is hard, but he's making an effort.

He gestures at Verso after a moment, teasing gently: "But by all means, if you think it might bring us luck. I'm sure Sciel wouldn't mind, at least."

Gustave is dense as a brick at times, but he's pretty he's caught her stealing glances.

"I think Sciel would be the first to shed her clothes if she thought it would help."

She's... bold. Brave. Willing to do what has to be done. A little ridiculous, too, but no one ever turned away comedic relief in dark times. He's sorry that, one way or another, her life will be cut short.

"Better not to, though. I'm over a hundred. All wrinkles under here."

Wrinkles weren't part of the immortality package, actually. He's vain enough that he'd be horrified if they were. But Gustave seems to enjoy self-effacement, and he has the feeling that playing the roguish and dashing stranger won't work with him as well as the others.

It's true; roguish and dashing would have simply convinced Gustave that Verso had more to hide, something to compensate for. Living here, surrounded by death that seemed to touch everything but you - well, it just didn't seem like the sort of environment to nurture cheeky rakishness.

The weak attempt at self-deprecation does win him a lukewarm look of exasperation. (And the way Gustave's eyes flicker down to Verso's chest and stomach for just a split second is part of a very scientific curiosity, thank you very much.) "I wondered as much, as bad as those crow's feet of yours are."

"Merde," Verso laughs. "You only let me bask in the compliments for five seconds before you send me crashing back to Earth."

Mean!!! Gustave is mean, actually. Verso can't imagine where Esquie got the idea that he's nice from. Maybe because being mean to Esquie is the moral equivalent of kicking a puppy, whereas being mean to Verso is more like swatting a particularly persistent fly. One that probably deserves it.

"And here I was trying to be endearingly humble." Which still means he was trying to be endearing in the first place. "I thought you might tell me I don't look a day over 90, at least."

Gustave grins slightly at his reaction, shifting to get a little more comfortable. His legs are bent, arms resting across his knees at chest height. If nothing else, it doesn't seem like he's prepared to flee when things turn awkward.

"It sounds an awful lot like you're fishing for compliments," he says. "But not a day over 90 - I can give you that."

It's only funny because it's so absurd. It doesn't matter how many silly jabs Gustave makes about grey hair or wrinkles; Verso's attractiveness is almost more objective fact than opinion.

Verso is pretty certain that the more Gustave lobs insults at him, the more comfortable he is. Which is a good thing; Gustave, whether he knows it or not, is the heart of this expedition, and Verso will need his trust. Like a sheep trusts the farmhand leading him to the slaughter, he thinks, but quickly pushes it aside. Gustave is dead either way, and at least this way, he'll be a member of the expedition that finally ends the cycle.

He doesn't care if Gustave is comfortable with him because he actually has any intention of being friends, of course. This time, he's really not going to get attached. It'll be a clean break.

"Flatterer," is his dry response. "You know, I was going to tell you about the continent before the Fracture, but if it's going to put me in your crosshairs..."

Gustave is certain that Verso has his own motivations, unshared reasons for making the choices he's made. He's not sure if his suspicion will ever fully abate, in light of those secrets. He is also fairly certain that he'd be twice as suspicious if Verso was pretending to be fully upfront about it all.

(And, ultimately? Gustave doesn't care what Verso's goals are, as long as they point towards safety for Maelle.)

"I can play nice," he says, mock-defensively, and he waves one hand in vague apology. "And I would love to hear anything you're happy to share." There's a moment's hesitation, before he amends: "But don't do it because you think you owe it to us. I'm sure it's tiring, being treated like a museum exhibit."

A museum exhibit. Yes, it is tiring to be poked and prodded at like a novelty, but their whole lives have been in a bubble. There's so much they don't know, and now here Verso is, holding the secrets of the universe in his hands. Anyone would be curious.

He shrugs. "I can't blame you."

There's a reason he turned the topic of conversation away from the expeditions, though, and onto more pleasant things. His life pre-Fracture was simple. No family feuds, no existential crises, no Gommages. He'd rather discuss that, given the option.

"I don't mind. They're good memories." Most of them probably aren't even his. He's jealous of the person who got to live them, rather than just recall them. "We used to travel all the time. Skiing, hiking, swimming. You've probably never been out of Lumière, have you?"

Gustave shrugs lightly at Verso's question, smiling a little crookedly out at the horizon. No, of course he'd never been out of the city in any meaningful way, but that was a question Verso certainly already knew the answer to.

"And what about the day to day? A Saturday afternoon, with no pressing obligations. How did you pass the time?" He can't really fathom it, the concept of a life lived without an expiration date. He'd spent so much of his life nearly deafened by the ticking of the countdown.

A Saturday afternoon, no pressing obligations. It's banal, but the memories feel almost too precious to share. He knows they're Verso's memories, the real one, because when he imagines a lazy day with nothing better to do, Alicia is there laughing. He never had an Alicia who laughed.

"Before I spent my time tortured and brooding, you mean?"

A joke. And also not a joke.

"...I played piano."

And he'd thought himself tortured and brooding about that, too, his love of music his greatest struggle. Some things never change.

"That suits you, I think." Not that Gustave would be able to explain exactly why he thinks that. The remark is earnest, a soft acknowledgement. They were all willing to pick up arms to fight for the future they wanted, but that had been a choice made out of necessity, not desire.

Verso was fierce and dangerous with a weapon, but Gustave can imagine him happier behind a piano.

"Were you any good?"

'Suits him', Gustave says. Interesting. He spent a lifetime being told it didn't suit him, but he supposes Gustave doesn't know the Dessendres. He has no expectations for Verso, which is oddly sort of freeing.

"See, now you've put me in a conundrum. Either I say yes and get branded a narcissist, or I feign modesty, and, well, then I'd be a liar."

"No, you showed some real restraint, waiting until you were asked. It sounds like a nice way to spend an afternoon." He flexes the fingers of his mechanical arm, considering it idly, and decides it was probably for the best that he'd never been overly interested in artistic pursuits of his own.

"Something else for you to chat with Lune about," Gustave says. He's not making an intentional choice offer so little about himself in return. The unconscious idea that he has nothing to offer that Verso hasn't likely already heard before keeps him from really even considering what he might share.

A silence stretches out. Not intentionally. It's just that Verso waits, expecting Gustave to offer up something of his own, and then he doesn't. And then Verso waits some more, and Gustave still doesn't. And then—

Okay, this is getting awkward.

He leans in again, as if to share a secret. "This is the part where you share something, now."

Gustave seems almost baffled when what he believed was a companionable silence is broken by that. He raises both eyebrows, like he's deliberating, before he shakes his head and replies with genuine apology in his voice. "I am - a profoundly uninteresting man," he says like it's a confession, reaching up to rub the back of his own neck. "I finished the Lumina Converter, and I'm proud of that. But otherwise..."

He trails off, shrugging one shoulder. "Sorry. I can make something up, if you'd like."

Profoundly uninteresting, he says, right before dropping the Lumina Converter into conversation. It's impressive enough to warrant 'interesting' status, but admittedly not what Verso is most curious about.

"How did you spend your time with Maelle?" comes out as more pointed than he intends, so he adds, "For example."

A nice save, he thinks (and hopes).

"I bet she wouldn't agree with profoundly uninteresting."

He's not expecting a question about Maelle, but the addendum is plausible enough that it doesn't raise his hackles. It's the same arbitrary Saturday question he'd asked Verso, really, just phrased in a different way.

"I don't know about that," he says, but he's smiling to himself as he reminisces. It's a soft look. Fond. "I helped her with her studies. She helped me with my apprentices. We trained." Gustave's expression crumples with amusement for a moment. "We had an exclusive two-member book club for a few months, but she kept reading too far ahead of me."

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gustave: what a nice silence verso: is this guy going to fucking TALK

literally exactly 😭