superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

It sounds, to Verso's ears, like Gustave wants to brood alone. After a lingering moment, he removes his hand and glances back at Lune. "Yeah." He's going to have to prostrate himself before her a little bit, he thinks, even if he doesn't entirely feel that he should.

He stands, taking a step away, then pauses to look back at Gustave. It feels like he should say something that will fix this all somehow, but nothing comes. He plods away to Lune.

Gustave's idle perimeter check is as much an opportunity to allow his brain to decompress than anything else. In another world, he likes to think that he and Verso would have been friends; perhaps Gustave would have been able to watch him and Lune perform together. He contemplates a half dozen ways that he might take Sciel and Lune on a suicide mission with him whilst leaving Maelle in relative safety behind, and he has to acknowledge every one of them is a daydream more than an actual plan.

He doesn't seek Verso out specifically when he's decided it's safe to bed down; spends it mostly instead sharing quiet stories with the rest of the original Expedition. When Gustave finds a brief private moment with Verso, it's purely accidental. He doesn't say anything - simply leans in to rest his forehead on Verso's shoulder, allowing some of the vulnerability he's afraid of sharing with the rest of the team to seep out. It's over as quickly as it starts.

He sleeps the fitful sleep of a man certain he's walking into his own doom at sunrise - so when they achieve victory over the Visages, handily, Gustave feels a rush of something like guilt for his own extreme pessimism. There's a hopeful energy in the air that evening when they settle, a thousand conversations to be had, but not long after they finish their evening meal Gustave will approach Verso and Monoco, conversing off to the side. "Hey," he says, "let me borrow you for a moment."

Monoco is retelling his battle against the Mask Keeper with great embellishment, as if Verso wasn't there. He nods along regardless, interjecting when appropriate: "I looked cool," Monoco says. "You did," Verso agrees. He's in high enough spirits to humor Monoco; one of the Axons is dead tonight, and that means they've inched ever closer to the Paintress. Maybe, just maybe, the expeditioners won't all die horribly before they even make it to the Monolith.

He's still not counting on it, but it's nice to have a win.

When Gustave comes around, Monoco pipes up with, "I wasn't done sharing my glory in battle."

"The story will be even better the next day," Verso assures him as he steps aside. "Let it marinate."

He cants his head as an invitation for Gustave to follow him a few feet over, separated from the constant hum of excited chatter. Everyone's spirits have been lifted by the victory, apparently. Maelle is grinning ear to ear, and it makes Verso's heart squeeze in his chest to see her happy.

"All that stress, and still no white hairs," he says, mouth quirking up.

They really should have saved the wine for tonight, he thinks. The atmosphere is buoyant, relieved -- hopeful. Raising a glass in celebration would have been an ideal use, but it's too late now.

Gustave just smiles crookedly, reaching up to touch the hair atop his own head. "Give it time time to grow out. I can feel it." He hums, then adds: "Thanks for picking up my slack today." He'd had a particularly rough go of several of the fights.

It would be like him to take the compliment, earned or not, but Verso shakes his head. "You did good."

Gustave had no doubt been scared out of his wits, certain he was about to die. A few slip-ups are to be expected. He'd done it despite the fear, and that's worth something.

"Didn't even tie Maelle to a tree so she couldn't follow."

Even Lune had gotten impatient with the amount of healing she'd had to do for him - they weren't his best moments. But they'd all made it back.

Gustave laughs at that, ducking his head slightly. "Haven't found a sturdy enough tree yet. It's not off the table yet." He angles his head toward Monoco, scrubbing his fingers through his already slightly wild hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to actually interrupt story time for long. Just wanted to get that thank you off my chest."

"He'll have embellished it more by tomorrow, anyway. Always more entertaining the second day." He speaks like he's painfully familiar with the tendency, because he is. Monoco's a showboat.

But Gustave had said he only came over to thank him, and— a sudden awkwardness washes over him. He'd been expecting something more than cursory gratitude, admittedly, and he finds himself feeling almost disappointed that it doesn't come to fruition. He shakes his head, like it'll shake the feeling out.

"Don't let me keep you, then. I'm sure you have more victory laps to do."

The drive-by nature of the conversation was mostly out of feeling genuinely bad for interrupting his conversation. "Bit tired of walking, actually," he says, similarly awkward. "Might keep you company for a bit, in that case? If I promise to be less of a complete sad sack than I was last night?"

Verso's smile tugs up a little more on one side, and he reaches out with a hand, pinky finger extended. "You're going to have to swear on that, I think."

Gustave rolls his eyes, but he reaches out to catch and squeeze Verso's pinky with his own. "Is that good enough for you?"

Verso lets the contact linger for a split second before retracting his hand. "We'll see." It's only a light jab; he doesn't hold the moroseness against Gustave, even though it had been a heavy and uncomfortable weight. Once upon a time, he'd longed to live, too. "Honestly, I just wanted to see if I could get you to pinky promise."

"Excuse you," Gustave says, fixing him with a look of mock-affront. "A pinky swear is a solemn and unbreakable oath." He reaches over to jostle Verso's shoulder gently, all fake complaint. "How're you feeling?"

Honestly? It had been a bit harrowing to face the Axon and realize what it was meant to represent. To watch the representation of a father's love die. He feels— conflicted, too. Happy, ecstatic, relieved in a way he's never been before, knowing that they're one step closer to ending the madness for good... and something adjacent to guilt, looking at the faces of the expeditioners and knowing they'd never understand.

"My back's a bit sore," he says instead of any of that, "from picking up all that slack." Kidding. Mostly. "You?"

It had been odd, marching off to what he believed was imminent death. Not like he hadn't brushed it already - first feeling the metal of his own gun against his temple, and then again facing Renoir in the cave. He'd accepted it completely then, determined to stall long enough for Maelle to get to safety. It had been an easy decision to make, then.

"You do seem to keep saving my life," Gustave acknowledges, and he glances to Sciel. She's sitting with her back to a tree, face upturned, just savoring the warmth of the setting sun. "But I think she was the star of the show today."

"Yeah," Verso agrees as his eyes drift toward Sciel. The hero of the hour, really. Despite everything that happened today, she looks calm. Serene. Like whatever happens next, she'll be able to accept it. Verso is jealous of that. "She was brave."

A beat, and he leans in a little, conspiratorial. "But don't tell Monoco that. He thinks he was the hero of the day."

Gustave holds his hand up like he's making a pledge, possibly the dorkiest way in existence to signify that he agrees. "I'm not a total thief of joy, you know," he says, then cants his head at Verso. "How are things with Lune?" She's always intense when they're on the mission; it's hard to get a great read.

Ah, Lune. Verso can't help but make a face — not at her, but at the situation he's gotten himself into. He's always felt a sort of kinship with her, like perhaps she understood him in some way, but her relentless dedication to her mission comes first before any friendships. Another way they're similar, actually.

"I told her that I wasn't a liar and a coward," he says, just as Gustave had instructed him to. After all, Gustave knows her far better than Verso does. "And she told me I'll have to prove it." A tilt of his head. "I guess you could call that 'probation'."

"It's not nothing," Gustave says, laughing under his breath at the look on Verso's face. "You've got a few days before we take a crack at the next one. I'll put in a good word for you." As much as it feels like they should be rushing ahead, it's foolish to do they have the opportunity to recharge and choose not to. "Not that I think my opinion will have any impact, mind you. But as a gesture of good will."

It's not nothing. It's a chance — one he knows he'll eventually blow. He won't be able to look her in the face as her existence is unmade.

"Thanks," he says, and then adds, "Your opinion means more to her than you think." He crosses his arms, eyebrows raised. "Or are you still going with the whole charmingly oblivious thing?"

Gustave shakes his head at Verso, giving him a funny sort of look. "Hers matters to me, too. But Lune is the only person who decides when Lune is finished holding a grudge. It's not that deep."

And then he grins very slightly at him. "But let's focus on the 'charming' bit instead."

Roundabout way to say yes, he is still going with the charmingly oblivious thing. Chronically unaware that he's the most eligible bachelor in this camp, somehow. (Admittedly, he doesn't have a lot of competition.)

"Probably best to keep it to myself, actually." But he's grinning back. "If I say too much, you won't be oblivious anymore."

"Hardly fair. Everyone wants to hear they're pretty and funny sometimes." It's a dry little joke, and he glances at the team idling around the camp again. "I think a victory cup of coffee would really hit the spot right now. I didn't think I'd crave it this badly."

"Damn," he says with a snap, mock-disappointed. "Should have refilled Esquie."

He's kidding!!! Esquie may be a wine-bag, but he's not a coffee pot. Even Verso has limits.

Gustave stares off into the middle distance at that, distracted by his own imagination. "He'd be like a massive hot water bottle when we're riding him on the sea," he says after a moment.

Charming, Verso thinks, not for the first time, and shakes his head.

"And he'd be a great cuddler, too," as if Esquie isn't already. "But there's always Monoco."

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