superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave is a horny little skunk. Verso's father was just trying to do him a favor by murdering him in cold blood, honestly.

But he snorts at Verso's answer, still clearly aiming for light spirits, good humor. "I wasn't— trying to be mean when I called you mon chéri earlier." There's not a chance in the world he'd be able to manage this if he actually had to look at Verso right then. What he's trying to say is: he really hopes that doesn't make Verso too self conscious to say that kind of thing in the future, because Gustave found it insanely hot!!!!

But he'll just clear his throat and move to get up. "That's all. Do you need to pack anything else?"

Verso smiles to himself, smug and pleased, as he follows suit and gets up, too. He didn't think Gustave was 'trying to be mean', because that implies a level of audacity that Gustave just doesn't possess, but yes, the comment would have made him too self-conscious to ever say it again.

"I'm good," is all he says for a moment. There's nothing to pack; he's been living a minimalistic lifestyle. None of the creature comforts he'd enjoyed when he lived in the manor. He does pick his jacket up off of the floor and sling it over his shoulder, though.

At the threshold of the hut, he turns to hand Gustave the loaned books. "...So am I disallowed from teasing starting now, or once my boots touch grass?" It's an important distinction.

Gustave snorts at that, taking the books and bringing his bag to his side so he can carefully tuck them away. "Oh, just say it, whatever it is." He's trying to sound annoyed, but he's grinning just a little too much to actually pull that off.

A pause, then: "I'm flattered, actually." He's very mature about this; nothing to tease about. "Chéri."

Well, maybe a teeny tiny tease. Just a little!! But that's it as he steps out onto the red grass, glancing up at the sky in an attempt to approximate how long they've been gone. It's been— a while. Longer than he'd planned. He's not mad about it, though; this is the first time in a long time he's done something like this, spent time with someone for the sake of spending time with them, and the positive effect on his mood is pretty staggering. Maybe life isn't completely terrible all the time.

"Come on," he says, jerking his head. "We'll grab some more of those blossoms on the way back and charm the girls."

Gustave will laugh again and roll his eyes at the little term of endearment, but the smile in his exasperation is genuine. Oh, he's definitely being teased— but it's an extremely pleasant way to be teased, makes his stomach flip like he's once again a teenage boy with an out of control crush.

"Better bring some for everyone," he says, "wouldn't want to hurt Monoco or Esquie's feelings." Gustave is joking, but he also definitely isn't, and he will spend the evening being taught by Sciel how to weave them into a flower crown. He isn't very good at it.

And when it's time for bed, he will, very boldly, unroll his bedroll only several feet from Verso's instead of politely on the opposite side of the camp.

Sucks to suck. The daisy chain that Verso makes for Maelle is great.

It is indeed very bold to set up shop so close to Verso, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he kicks off his shoes and settles down on his own bedroll, eyes on the sky and its half-baked constellations created by a little boy.

"Good call." On Monoco and Esquie, that is. "I don't think I've seen Esquie preen so much in decades." He's too big for even a flower crown, but Maelle had fastened a few blossoms on him regardless. He'd seemed overjoyed, but then again, maybe he was just feeding off of Verso's uncharacteristically light energy.

"You mention decades so casually," Gustave says, and he knows they both have a complicated history things like 'the average human lifespan,' but he seems buoyant right now. "That's— a pretty incredible friendship, you know."

He stretches himself out comfortably, his own shoes still on. Gustave is on his side, unpacking one of the books to read in what little light is available. "And I do have some flowers for you, too. In case you were feeling left out. They just— take a long time to dry." He's pressing them in his journal.

Oh, man. Gustave is liable to make his shriveled heart grow three sizes. That's cute as hell.

"Good that you told me," he says as he turns his head to smile wryly at Gustave. "I'm very sensitive about these things."

He's not. Verso hadn't expected anything at all, and he'd been entirely fine with that. The flower he'd handed to Gustave was impulse, and the rest of the ones they'd picked had already had the girls' (and Monoco and Esquie's!) names on them, as far as he was concerned. He doesn't need things like that, but— even he has to admit that it feels good to be thought of.

He turns his attention back to the dark night sky, then says, sounding a little surprised, "Today was... a good day."

It's probably best if it remains unsaid that romance wasn't Gustave's original intention with that. He has just always been a man with a deep sense of fairness—and it wasn't fair if Verso was the only one who didn't get any flowers!!

He leans up on one elbow, book held carefully, though he's not quite reading yet. Preparing to read, if anything.

"You didn't think it'd be?" The surprise makes him curious. He was personally a little dubious about the direction of the day the moment he'd agreed to let a gestral near his head with scissors, but the results had been better than he'd expected. "But— I'm glad I could contribute."

Gustave could say he had a good day, too!! But since he doesn't, Verso quips, "I was more talking about the gestrals." He's just kidding, obviously; Gustave did contribute, but some bullying is always in order.

He doesn't elaborate on the surprise, just cants his head toward Gustave's book before closing his eyes. "Enjoy your book." A beat. "Well, my book."

He was getting there, Verso, gawd!! Gustave huffs a quiet laugh, opening to start actually reading. In a very low voice, as if making sure Verso is definitely the only one who hears it, he'll say: "I certainly will. Sleep well, chouchou."

He should have killed Gustave when he had the chance.

"Shut up," he grouses before shifting so that his back is to Gustave. Embarrassing!!!

"Sure," Gustave says, laughing. "Thanks for the good day." But he'll roll over and stay up late enough reading that he's noticeably tired the next day, and he will absolutely blame Verso.

And for once he'll succeed in acting like a normal human around Verso for the next several days. Sure, he smiles easily for him, but at least he's not weird about it!! It'll be not long after they've returned again from Sirene with 46's journal in hand that Gustave will perch near Verso without asking.

Seems like you and Lune are finally on solid ground again, is what he wants to say, but maybe it's better to let Verso bring that up himself. So, instead, he supplies: "How come you've let Maelle see your poetry and not me?"

He is on solid ground with Lune again, which is something. Progress. Verso is very fond of Lune perhaps because she has very little patience for his bullshit, but it feels good to be her friend again.

He's in a good mood, is the point. Rare, but becoming more common these days. It almost feels like the future isn't a horrible, scary, oppressive void sometimes.

It's because of his good mood that he replies, "Maelle is a harsh enough critic already. I'm only showing it to undiscerning flatterers these days."

"Oh, we've looped back around to effusive praise, huh? I thought we were closer than that now, but if you insist." Gustave leans slightly forward, his forearms resting on his knees. "You're a man of unmatched wit, after all. I'm sure the poetry resembles its author."

"Ah, well. It's typical tortured soul stuff. You know, eternal darkness, endless torment, broke a nail."

It's embarrassing, actually. Very confessional in a brooding teenager sort of way. Maelle's criticism had at least kept things lighthearted, when she'd complained about him trying to rhyme 'agony' with 'travesty'.

"But if it's wit you're looking for, I'm sure I can spin up a dirty limerick."

"My disappointment is immeasurable." Gustave's words are gentle and lighthearted, clearly not serious. He clears his throat and offers out one of the books he'd borrowed from Verso, grip careful.

"Anyway— your flowers are pressed in on page thirty-three." He thinks he's funny. "They could use another week or so, honestly, but— you know, it's been a while since I was able to give someone a flower that didn't mean goodbye."

Gustave's intentions with the flowers might not be romantic, but he's still fully interpreting it that way. It's sweet! It's been a long time since he experienced sweet. He's going to cherish these dumb flowers.

"Thanks," he says, genuinely, as he takes the book. Then: "Did you finish it already?"

Well, okay. It's meant to be a little romantic. A little. Maybe.

"Yeah," Gustave says, smiling a bit lopsidedly. "I've had a few late nights. It was good."

"I could tell." Both about the late nights, and that Gustave enjoyed it. Because: "You gasped whenever anything exciting happened."

"I did not!" He sits up straight, a little offended — but also, he totally did. "I kept you up?"

He did keep Verso up with his expressive reading, but that's all right. It was charming. Nice to see that Gustave was enjoying himself.

"Don't worry about it." A shake of his head. "I was up anyway, thinking of more tormented poetry."

"That you're never going to let me read. Rub it in, why don't you." Gustave hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. "Sorry, really. I'll keep it down."

"It's fine," he presses, because it is! He would have said something sooner if it was that bothersome, and if he didn't find it cute. The last thing he wants is for Gustave to move his bedroll back to the other side of camp out of shame.

"...And I didn't say you could never read it." A shrug. "I'm just not sure it'll be to your liking." Jokingly: "They say true art is an acquired taste."

Mostly he's just going to make an effort to be less— expressive. Even if Verso finds it cute, he doubts anyone else does.

Gustave does smile a bit at the concession. He's still embarrassed, sure, but he's relaxed, at least. "When we make it back to Lumière," he says. "When I've got time to really sit with it and appreciate it. How's that?"

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