"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?"
"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?"
Verso thinks for a moment. This is his SOUL he's baring, after all, so he's somewhat reluctant to just give it away for free. "—Do I get to learn something embarrassing about you, too?" It's a fair trade.
Gustave hums, shaking his head. "No, wouldn't work. I'd find it too silly to be embarrassed about it. I could let Esquie try to teach me that dance? I've always been a 'stand still and sway' sort of guy."
"I don't know who taught him that — it definitely wasn't me." It's ridiculous but charming, like most things about Esquie. For all Verso knows, he came up with the dance all by himself. Probably made Francois watch him practice. "But all right. I'll provide the music, then."
He's not knocking Esquie's dancing! He's knocking his own!
Gustave tips his head down and laughs, because this is somehow more absurd than letting a gestral cut his hair. "How drunk am I allowed to be for this?"
"Oh, well, you know I have been eyeing Monoco. I've heard all about how warm that fur is." This is the stupidest conversation he's ever had, and his mood is so buoyant for it.
Somewhere in camp, Monoco's nonexistent ears are ringing.
"Yeah, but he kicks. And gestrals don't need sleep, so he'll talk your ear off all night." Poor Monoco really did nothing to get this criticism, but also, it's true. "Plus, you'll wake up with all that fur in your mouth."
Gustave is laughing silently again, his shoulders just trembling with it more than anything else. "Are you afraid I'll steal him away? It sounds like you're just making things up now."
Gustave has made a mistake in laughing at him, because now he doubles down in an attempt to entertain. "Putting aside the maligning of my good name," because he'd never, ever, ever make things up, "you do have me there. I'm actually terrified that you'll usurp my position as Monoco's big spoon."
Gustave waves both of his hands in front of him, very much a no, no gesture. "Don't worry, I won't be auditioning for the spot. I can't lose an arm and a foot, people will start thinking I'm doing it on purpose."
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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."
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"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."
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"Thanks," he says, genuinely, as he takes the book. Then: "Did you finish it already?"
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"Yeah," Gustave says, smiling a bit lopsidedly. "I've had a few late nights. It was good."
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"Don't worry about it." A shake of his head. "I was up anyway, thinking of more tormented poetry."
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"...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."
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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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"I don't know who taught him that — it definitely wasn't me." It's ridiculous but charming, like most things about Esquie. For all Verso knows, he came up with the dance all by himself. Probably made Francois watch him practice. "But all right. I'll provide the music, then."
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Gustave tips his head down and laughs, because this is somehow more absurd than letting a gestral cut his hair. "How drunk am I allowed to be for this?"
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He went off with a total stranger!!! Not to belabor the point, but Verso really could have killed him!!!
"But I'm afraid that next time you'll go off with Monoco and wake up with one less foot."
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"Yeah, but he kicks. And gestrals don't need sleep, so he'll talk your ear off all night." Poor Monoco really did nothing to get this criticism, but also, it's true. "Plus, you'll wake up with all that fur in your mouth."
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idk when maelle makes him old so just imagine him as a senior citizen if you want
verso showing up with a walker
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when i lock the thread again it means im too embarrassed to carry on
😠he was diagnosed with scoliosis AFFECTIONATELY
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spell it manoeuvre like a real brit
my work laptop autocorrected ton to tonne and i got so mad
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canonizing that gustave has smelled bad this whole time
it's always been canon, verso is just used noseblind after monoco
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ignore how my default icon doesn't fit the tone at all
oui oui bonjour
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mama n
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