Sciel is, against all odds, still incredibly kind to Verso when she has plenty of reasons to be wary of him, so he finds it difficult to brush her off, even when he's pretty sure the conversation won't be quite as interesting as she hopes. There's really nothing to tell, and if there were, he wouldn't know what Gustave would mind him saying, anyway. He keeps it vague and light, asking, "Don't you have tarot cards for predicting the future?"
His answer is pretty much just as evasive as she expects it to be, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm teasing you, not criticizing. You should've had him fix his hair before he came back last night if you wanted to be subtle about it."
Sciel gives Verso a light nudge, a little apology in it. "It's none of my business, I know. But there's nothing wrong with having a little fun."
Verso has no idea what Gustave's hair looked like after he came back last night, actually. He was too busy feeling bad for himself.
He doesn't really know what to say to her friendly words. There is nothing wrong with having a little fun, and he firmly believes that; with all of his decades behind him, it's hardly the first time he's had no-strings-attached sex. It had been perhaps a little too fun, though, and then very much not fun at all. Hard to enjoy the good things in life when it's all about to come to a bitter end.
"You could at least pretend to be jealous," he finally says, knocking their shoulders together. "For my ego."
Sciel is ridiculously sweet, and her reaction makes him laugh. He spares a glance at Gustave and Maelle, then looks back at Sciel. God, it's really not fair. There's something about her that just makes him blurt out, "No competition, actually. It was a one-time thing." A pause. "Two-time thing." But who's counting?
Two times! She genuinely hadn't been expecting it from Gustave, of all people. Well - good for him; he was notoriously bad at letting himself indulge in joy for the sake of joy. "Oh, does that mean your dance card is open now?" She wouldn't (probably), but she can't help her own curiosity at his answer.
Verso is a fuckboy first and somebody who maybe-sort-of has a tiny crush on Gustave second. And, besides, Sciel of all people surely knows how to have proper meaningless sex. It would be a good way to clear his head. So: "I can always make room, for the right dance partner."
"Tempting," Sciel admits with a sidelong smile at him. If it really was just blowing off steam; if she could be certain it wouldn't phase Gustave. She gives Verso an appraising look from head to toe. "I'll keep that in mind. Been a while since I've had a dance partner."
She'll be doing her best to get a read on the mood between the two boys basically at every opportunity today.
Verso just grins before heading off to actually check in with Monoco (who still hasn't called him over, and very much doesn't care about the weird things Verso does with other humans with his clothes off).
He's remarkably normal throughout the day, he thinks, like nothing happened at all; he doesn't look at Gustave too much or not enough, and he slings the same sort of irreverent comments his way when Gustave fumbles in a fight. He even helps Gustave up when a Nevron knocks him over, and he doesn't think about the feeling of Gustave's hand in his at all.
"Why are you staring at your hand?" Monoco asks, and Verso flexes his fingers.
The dynamics of the day are absolutely fascinating to Sciel. Verso is aggressively normal, but Gustave isn't - though she isn't certain she would have been able to pick up on that if she weren't keeping an eye out for it. It's subtle, the way he just seems a little more attentive to Verso. The fact that Gustave is softly snarky at him - it's a demeanor he reserves pretty much exclusively for people he's comfortable in his own skin around.
Aw. Gustave has a crush. It's sweet, but she's really not surprised the two of them began and ended with a little fling.
"Monoco, Verso - get over here, it's getting cold." Sciel calls out to them from the campfire, and she's folding herself into a seat next to Gustave, looping her arm in his and reclining her head against his shoulder. He seems unbothered by it, and refrains from adding any comment as Sciel resumes her attempt to gently cajole Lune into playing some music for them tonight.
"I'm not cold," Monoco argues, although he does come to sit by the campfire regardless. He would never admit it, but Verso knows he loves human companionship. He was made that way, to be the perfect friend. Verso follows, settling down next to Monoco and across the fire from Sciel and Gustave. Aggressively normal, still.
"You humans are just too hairless," Monoco decides.
"Oh, I've been saying that for years," Verso deadpans.
"Agreed," Sciel says cheerfully, and she can feel Gustave chuckle more than she can see it. "You are the most distinguished looking member of our little group, Monoco."
She seems to have abandoned the idea of convincing Lune to play, and will instead do her best to spend the next little while cajoling them into light-hearted socializing. Gustave remains quiet unless directly addressed, but he also doesn't shake Sciel off, sitting carefully as long as she seems comfortable.
Light-hearted socializing is easy with Monoco around to say ridiculous things. He goes on to talk about how weird humans look, smooth and fleshy all over. Verso doesn't take it personally. Instead, he lets his gaze drift to Gustave. It would be strange not to look at him, he reasons. It's still perfectly normal to note how comfortable and content Gustave is with Sciel, or how soft his expression goes when he glances over at Maelle, and it's normal to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach when Verso lingers on the thoughts too long.
Maelle is telling a lengthy story about a boy who'd learned to fence alongside her and the cloying perfume he'd worn. Gustave is familiar enough with the anecdote that he, quite by accident, will meet Verso's eyes.
His caterpillar eyebrows go up, head tilting just a few degrees, trying his best to silently communicate you good?
Verso looks away, because he's five-years-old. He gives Maelle's story a polite laugh, even though he was only half-listening, and then says, "Ah, I just remembered that I have to go organize my Pictos."
"You don't organize your Pictos," Monoco argues.
"Well, there's never a better time to start than the present."
Oh, Gustave thinks when Verso looks away, and Sciel finally sits up. "Do you want some company?" she asks Verso, more curious to hear his answer than actually offering, in truth.
"I need to do a little writing, too," Gustave interjects, and it's not a lie. It doesn't seem like he's planning to follow Verso - not when he's moderately sure he'd just accidentally compelled him to bail out. Maelle complains that her story wasn't that bad, and Sciel relocates to give her a little cuddle instead.
"If that's your definition of a little writing, I'd hate to see a lot," Verso teases with only a short glance Gustave's way, still intensely casual. The same sort of thing he would have said to Gustave before; light bullying, easy. He looks at Sciel, then, draped over Maelle. "My dance card's open, if you're offering."
"Lead the way," Sciel says lightly, kissing the side of Maelle's head before she stands up. She's not going to sleep with him; she can see that Gustave looks a little troubled even now, and the idea loses its appeal when it starts to hurt someone else.
She leads them out of earshot, but not out of sight, and reaches over to pinch his bicep. "How cruel of you. Poor Gustave."
Sciel squints at him, then shakes her head, quietly chiding. "No, but all the pining he's doing is about to break my heart. I didn't realize you were such a menace."
"A menace," he repeats, and it's probably a bad thing that this isn't the first time he's been called that. "Far be it from me to deny my charm, but—" He cants his head toward Gustave. "He looks all right to me."
"It's not actually any of my business," Sciel says, and she glances over at Gustave. As if sensing that he's being discussed, he glances briefly their way from the journal. "But he's been watching you all day. I'm sorry to have gotten your hopes up. I am quite a catch."
She's right — it's not any of her business. But he knows she must only pry because she cares for Gustave, so it's hard to feel in any way offended. He just laughs, shaking his head. "You're the menace," he jokes. "I may never get over the disappointment."
He does spend some time with her regardless, though; even without sex, he enjoys her company. It's difficult not to. Verso does actually attempt to organize his Pictos, and Sciel criticizes his sorting strategy—by color—and it's fun, light-hearted. It's easier to be himself around her, because he can delude himself into thinking that what he's about to do isn't a betrayal. It's reuniting her with her husband.
That eats up a good amount of time, but eventually, he does find himself thinking of what she's said. He wanders over toward Gustave on impulse, peeking at his notebook. "Still writing?" he asks, an attempt at levity. "Your definition of 'a little' is terrifying."
"Drawing, actually," Gustave answers, and he tips the notebook a bit in Verso's direction, just to make it easier to see. He would refer to them as diagrams, not truly as art - fairly accurate sketches of various Nevrons they've faced, paired with notes about strategy, weak points highlighted clearly. "Helps to clear my head." And helps to satisfy the urge that has become nearly an obsession to leave something useful behind, to help the ones who'll re-tread his ground when he falls.
He's too old for this, he thinks; and more than even that, there was just no space for emotion to take up any more room than what was absolutely necessary whilst on an Expedition. It was mortifying beyond belief when he'd recognized jealousy in himself in the first place; he's equally horrified by his own urge to ask Verso what had happened to having no time for distractions.
So, instead of any of that, he just offers him the book again.
Verso takes the book, flipping through the pages, inspecting the drawings. If all goes well, no one else will ever see these. It makes something in his chest squeeze again.
"I don't believe your head is ever fully cleared," he says, tipping his own head toward Gustave's. "I can hear the gears inside whirring right now." The assessment is fond, though; he's come to be rather endeared by the eternally turning cogs of Gustave's brain.
"You have a talent for sketches." No, it's not art, exactly. It lacks the creativity and personal touch. But there's something to be said about having the diligence to recreate the Nevrons so accurately all the same.
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Sciel gives Verso a light nudge, a little apology in it. "It's none of my business, I know. But there's nothing wrong with having a little fun."
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He doesn't really know what to say to her friendly words. There is nothing wrong with having a little fun, and he firmly believes that; with all of his decades behind him, it's hardly the first time he's had no-strings-attached sex. It had been perhaps a little too fun, though, and then very much not fun at all. Hard to enjoy the good things in life when it's all about to come to a bitter end.
"You could at least pretend to be jealous," he finally says, knocking their shoulders together. "For my ego."
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Which, okay, she's saying just to be silly, but she's also not joking.
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She'll be doing her best to get a read on the mood between the two boys basically at every opportunity today.
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He's remarkably normal throughout the day, he thinks, like nothing happened at all; he doesn't look at Gustave too much or not enough, and he slings the same sort of irreverent comments his way when Gustave fumbles in a fight. He even helps Gustave up when a Nevron knocks him over, and he doesn't think about the feeling of Gustave's hand in his at all.
"Why are you staring at your hand?" Monoco asks, and Verso flexes his fingers.
"Reattached it earlier. Still feels funny."
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Aw. Gustave has a crush. It's sweet, but she's really not surprised the two of them began and ended with a little fling.
"Monoco, Verso - get over here, it's getting cold." Sciel calls out to them from the campfire, and she's folding herself into a seat next to Gustave, looping her arm in his and reclining her head against his shoulder. He seems unbothered by it, and refrains from adding any comment as Sciel resumes her attempt to gently cajole Lune into playing some music for them tonight.
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"You humans are just too hairless," Monoco decides.
"Oh, I've been saying that for years," Verso deadpans.
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She seems to have abandoned the idea of convincing Lune to play, and will instead do her best to spend the next little while cajoling them into light-hearted socializing. Gustave remains quiet unless directly addressed, but he also doesn't shake Sciel off, sitting carefully as long as she seems comfortable.
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His caterpillar eyebrows go up, head tilting just a few degrees, trying his best to silently communicate you good?
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"You don't organize your Pictos," Monoco argues.
"Well, there's never a better time to start than the present."
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"I need to do a little writing, too," Gustave interjects, and it's not a lie. It doesn't seem like he's planning to follow Verso - not when he's moderately sure he'd just accidentally compelled him to bail out. Maelle complains that her story wasn't that bad, and Sciel relocates to give her a little cuddle instead.
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She leads them out of earshot, but not out of sight, and reaches over to pinch his bicep. "How cruel of you. Poor Gustave."
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He does spend some time with her regardless, though; even without sex, he enjoys her company. It's difficult not to. Verso does actually attempt to organize his Pictos, and Sciel criticizes his sorting strategy—by color—and it's fun, light-hearted. It's easier to be himself around her, because he can delude himself into thinking that what he's about to do isn't a betrayal. It's reuniting her with her husband.
That eats up a good amount of time, but eventually, he does find himself thinking of what she's said. He wanders over toward Gustave on impulse, peeking at his notebook. "Still writing?" he asks, an attempt at levity. "Your definition of 'a little' is terrifying."
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He's too old for this, he thinks; and more than even that, there was just no space for emotion to take up any more room than what was absolutely necessary whilst on an Expedition. It was mortifying beyond belief when he'd recognized jealousy in himself in the first place; he's equally horrified by his own urge to ask Verso what had happened to having no time for distractions.
So, instead of any of that, he just offers him the book again.
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"I don't believe your head is ever fully cleared," he says, tipping his own head toward Gustave's. "I can hear the gears inside whirring right now." The assessment is fond, though; he's come to be rather endeared by the eternally turning cogs of Gustave's brain.
"You have a talent for sketches." No, it's not art, exactly. It lacks the creativity and personal touch. But there's something to be said about having the diligence to recreate the Nevrons so accurately all the same.
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