superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

"Blew a gasket," he repeats, and he can't help but laugh. He's not sure he's ever seen Gustave blow a gasket, even in the heat of battle. "Yeah, I think I speak for us all when I say I was frightened for my life." A little pinch to Gustave's arm. What a dork.

There's a pause, then. If he were a good person, he'd shut this down instantly. Tell Gustave that he doesn't know who Verso is (because he doesn't) and that he shouldn't waste what remains of his life thinking about him at all (because he shouldn't). As previously established, he is very much not a good person. It's important to still keep his distance, but—

"If you still want to change my mind after the Paintress, I'd be open to hearing your argument." A cruel thing to say, when he knows there will be no 'after the Paintress', not for long enough to matter.

Look, Gustave had experienced a flood of feelings that he wasn't exactly proud of. It felt an awful lot like blowing a gasket, but he'll accept the teasing with a little tilt of the head. "Alright. As long as you think you can keep yourself from seducing any more of my friends."

He's not looking at him, but he's smiling a little bit, just out at the what he can see of the nearby coast.

"Probably good you're sitting on my left. I'd probably be trying to hold your hand again if you were on my other side."

God, please. It wasn't seduction. It was practically a business transaction. But Gustave probably doesn't want to hear about how Verso was fully about to fuck his friend in a businesslike manner, so he keeps his mouth shut about that.

Verso stares out at the coast, too, sighing in a way that's not entirely untroubled before saying, "You know, I'm flattered. I've never blown anyone's gasket before."

Gustave tenses noticeably at that, before it becomes evident it's more that he's trying to hold in laughter than because he's upset about something. "Really? I never would have known. Well- you earned an A+ from me, sincerely."

This is idiotic, they're both idiots, and he's just going to let himself enjoy that for a few minutes.

Gustave should be scolding him for being over a hundred and still making jokes of that caliber, but clearly, the idiocy is contagious. Verso grins. "Oh, thanks. Means a lot. You aren't so bad yourself."

Then, he reaches over to the journal, tapping the cover. "As your editor, I should probably tell you to rip out that last page."

"I'm waiting to make sure there aren't any more pointless understandings to quash. Literally impossible to know with the two of us." But he's opening it up to do just that now, folding it flat and tucking it into his pocket to use as kindling later.

And, immediately after, he'll frown softly and investigate his wrist. "My aim was off today. Not sure if it was my head or something else."

Mm. Less fun topic. Verso's gaze follows Gustave's, although he's not quite sure what he's supposed to be looking for. After a moment, he looks back up at Gustave, frowning. "Are you nervous about the next Axon?"

"Feeling a little better than I did about the last one, actually," he admits, flexing his fingers. "It's becoming more and more obvious there's no reason for me to try to anticipate what might actually happen next."

"It would be hard to feel worse about it than you did the last one."

Lightly teasing, although the night before the first Axon hadn't been particularly fun for anyone involved. Verso's still not sure if he really believes they're capable of getting to the Monolith, or if he's going to be dragging Gustave, Lune, and Sciel's lifeless corpses to the Forgotten Battlefield to be buried.

"You were very dark and brooding."

"Suppose I was encroaching on your territory a bit. Hope you didn't mind too much." He's teasing, too, but it's not possible to miss that faraway look Verso sometimes gets. And who could blame him for it, really. "How are you feeling about it?"

Oh, he feels a bone-deep sense of dread, but saying that wouldn't be helpful.

"We've exceeded my expectations already," he says with a shrug. "Who knows what we'll accomplish next?" It's not exactly a ringing endorsement, but at least he isn't telling Gustave that he thinks it's probably a 50-50 chance whether he survives the next 24 hours.

"Damning with faint praise," Gustave says mildly. They're nowhere near the actual water, but his hand grazes a rock in the grass, he'll pick it up and hurl it toward the coast as an almost afterthought anyway. "I should do some maintenance on my arm. But I'd really like to find a moment to kiss you before we go to sleep. If you don't mind." Bluntly, matter of fact.

Clearly, Gustave does not understand the principle of trying not to get attached. It would be a terrible idea to let Gustave kiss him, because then Verso will start thinking about the way Gustave's beard tickles his face, and that his eyebrows are charmingly bushy, and that he really does quite enjoy his company— and then he'll start to feel awful after that, and he'll toss and turn all night as he tries to convince himself he's doing the right thing.

On the other hand, Verso's lizard hindbrain does really want to. It's just once. He isn't thirteen; he won't get emotionally compromised from kissing someone once.

"I could pencil you in," he says like the stupid idiot he is.

See, this is why communicating in weird euphemism is tricky: Gustave figures they've gotten the weird and uncomfortable part where they admit to it being a little more than they'd mutually intended. They've done much worse; what harm could a kiss do?

He's never been impulsive like this, but after feeling the cold grip of death on his throat more than once already on this journey, it feels pointless to deny himself.

"Yeah?" Gustave confirms, shooting him a crooked smile that maybe gives away that he was much less confident about Verso's answer than he'd been pretending to be. "Gracious of you. I'd appreciate that."

Verso suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that if he'd received even the slightest bit of pushback about ending things, he probably would have backpedaled. Definitely an issue. He feels a little fuzzy-headed, and like he very much needs to remind himself of his priorities. So:

"I'm going to go check on Maelle, then," he says as he stands. Priority number one. Easy. Abruptly, he wonders if she picked up on anything between them. He hopes not. That's an awkward dynamic he's counting on never having to navigate. "Wouldn't want her to think I didn't like her story."

Gustave similarly hopes she remains oblivious, if only because he's acutely aware of how relentlessly she'll tease him about it - as is her right as a younger sister.

"Alright," he agrees easily, because he will never discourage anyone from checking on Maelle. He cuts his eyes up to Verso when he stands, expression soft. "Come find me later. If you want."

Gustave's big, soft cow eyes make something twist in his gut again, and he cants his head before beelining for Maelle. It's a strange feeling; he does like Gustave, really, but whenever Maelle's around, he can feel an undercurrent of envy, too. After all, speaking with her is so frequently Gustave this and Gustave that.

Endless talk about how great Gustave is (with Maelle talking and Verso mostly nodding along) does very little to get him off of the brain, unfortunately. He'd given Verso an out with that little 'if you want', and he argues with himself for a good long while before he admits defeat. It's harmless. Just one teeny, tiny little moment. He still knows what has to be done, and he'll barely even have time to feel bad about it before the comforting embrace of nothingness, anyway.

"Your arm all right?" he asks when he approaches, because he's nothing if not full of excuses to start conversations. Also, he has no idea if 'doing maintenance' on the arm is an expected thing, or if perhaps something has gone awry with all of this exposure to the elements. He's very much not an engineer. "You know you can always borrow mine, if the need arises."

If given a hundred years with nothing to do but guess, Gustave still wouldn't ever come anywhere close to hazarding the truth of their world. It is unfathomable, and will remain that way until the moment he's forced to recognize it.

And if Verso's concerns about Gustave's feelings ever come to light, mostly he'll just be annoyed that Verso could think that he'd ever want anything except what was right for Maelle.

"It's fine. Found a little sand that wasn't meant to be there, so that should help." He tilts his head at Verso just slightly, uncertain if he's genuinely just back to check on his arm or not.

Gustave looks like a slightly confused dog. It's unfortunately endearing. "It's possible that was another excuse to talk to you," he says, sheepish.

Gustave ducks his head slightly to hide his own brief smile at that, before he holds out his right arm. "Help me up? I'm still sore from today."

Verso reaches out to clasp a hand in Gustave's, pulling him to his feet. "Monoco gives a great massage, if you're looking," he deadpans. "...As long as you don't mind an excessive amount of force."

Gustave braces himself with that hand, squeezing Verso's fingers in his before he shakes his head no. "It's possible that was another excuse to touch you," he says, gently mimicking his tone from earlier.

Verso feels a flutter in his chest immediately followed by a tightening in his stomach. What, he's just supposed to enjoy good things that happen to him instead of living in fear they'll turn to dust in his hands??? Ridiculous. He lets the grip linger for a moment before withdrawing, fingers flexing unconsciously.

"Now he's a gentleman. I don't recall you needing an excuse when you groped my wrist."

"Oh, you're going to conveniently forget all those cups of wine you brought to me," Gustave says. There are enough nearby craggy cliffs that they shouldn't need to go far just to steal a moment of privacy; he idly starts that way.

Verso really hadn't been trying to ply Gustave with wine for the purposes of seduction; he'd just thought that Gustave was very tightly wound, and that maybe it would be fun to watch him loosen up. It's not his fault he had a little too much fun doing it. Well, maybe it's a little his fault, but he wouldn't have done a single improper thing if Gustave hadn't made the first move. ("Move", if you can call what he did moves.)

"I was being a good host," he argues as he follows Gustave. "It's my continent you're a guest on."

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