"I was just humoring Emma, she—" Had been needling him about it, and he simply didn't care enough to argue. "What happened to rioting? You could have prevented this if you'd been twenty minutes earlier."
Gustave swallows. He wants to ask about the day they'd forced Maelle's father out of the canvas, is desperate to know what had been the catalyst for the drastic change in his affect.
"Just hold still for a moment, yeah?" Quietly, a verbal and physical echo of the last time he'd closed the distance between them to pull Verso into an embrace.
He leans into the embrace despite himself, because he is a terrible, horrible, selfish person. "Hey," he says softly, palm rubbing between Gustave's shoulder blades comfortingly. It's an instinct more than anything else, some deep-seated need to make things better. "It's okay."
Attempting to inject some humor into his voice, he adds, "It'll grow back."
There's a flash of— not frustration, not exactly, but maybe a distant cousin of it when Verso rubs his back. He's not the one who needs looking after here is what he wants to say, but doesn't know how to communicate that without making things more awkward, more tense.
He keeps the metal arm around Verso's waist, pulling back just enough to use his other hand to catch Verso's jaw and to kiss him soundly. It's clumsy and a little messy for it, but he doesn't care right now.
"There's cassoulet simmering." Vegetarian, because there's no room in Lumière for massive amounts of livestock. "I was about to peel some potatoes— stay and eat something?"
"Oh," he says to the invitation. There are people coming over, he'd said, and Verso's liable to ruin Gustave's nice little get-together. Even worse, if Maelle comes home, things could get tense. His stomach tightens at the thought of facing her; they've been at a distance since coming back, and he's not quite ready to change that.
He doesn't want to hurt Gustave's feelings, though, so he opts for a lie. "I appreciate the offer, but I just ate." A hand on his stomach, and he adds, "And I don't think 'round and jolly' fits me."
Verso really is fully unhinged if he thinks he's just going to be able to slip away after this; Gustave really is one of the most stubborn people around, and he's not going to let Emma's visiting councilors be the excuse Verso needs to evaporate again. He'll have to work a little harder than that.
Personal feelings aside (of which there were a lot, more than he was ready to admit to himself - spending his nights reliably clutching Verso's hand in his own had done a number on him those last few weeks), he really is worried. About Verso, about Maelle, the siblings who'd both come to him unwilling to be loved because they felt like they didn't deserve it. Gustave doesn't know the details, of course, but he knows enough for it to make his chest ache.
"Please," he says softly, eyes searching Verso's face, before he turns to lead him to the kitchen and scrub up some potatoes.
He probably shouldn't be trusted around knives right now, but oh, well. It's not like anything can actually hurt him. Verso follows, washing up at the kitchen sink before doing the same with a potato. He's by no means an expert at this sort of thing—he hadn't done the cooking at home, and food on the Continent was a lot more 'assorted sketchy mushrooms' than cassoulet—but he picks up a paring knife and gets to work regardless. It quickly becomes a sort of lumpy, oddly-shaped potato, but it's a peeled potato nonetheless.
"I didn't know you cooked," he finally says, because this is going to be painful if he doesn't try to keep up some sort of conversation. "What's the occasion?"
Who is it for, essentially, without sounding quite so nosy.
"Some of the other councilors are coming by. Unofficial meeting," Emma says from the doorway, and Gustave is so laser focused on Verso he startles; his own knife slips, but luckily just hits a metal finger. She tips her head, eyebrows raised. "It smells nice. This is Maelle's—?"
"We won't be joining," Gustave supplies quickly, shooting Verso a sidelong glance, apologetic, like he should have warned him that Emma was home. "But yes. Thank you. Verso, Emma. She's just passing by on her way to the study." The least subtle hint on the planet.
What the fuck, Gustave!! He wasn't emotionally prepared to talk to two people. But he does find himself endlessly curious about Emma, despite the fact that he really shouldn't get involved. She's part of Maelle's family, too. Is she like Clea, he wonders, constantly off fighting fires the rest of them don't even know about? Or maybe she's more present, the way Clea used to be. Does Maelle look up to her? Want to be like her, when she's older?
"Emma," he echoes, putting down his (still incredibly lumpy) potato and reaching out to shake her hand, charm turned on by habit. "Gustave never said his sister was so young." He's still a dick.
Emma takes his hand, giving it a polite shake. There's friendliness there, genuine, but less of the open warmth that Gustave seems to radiate. "Not that young," she says with a smile that's polite but sincere. She tilts her head at the potato. "I see he's put you to work already."
Gustave!! Doesn't like this any more than you do!!! He sighs, every ounce the exasperated older brother; it is, admittedly, slightly more juvenile than he had usually been on the Continent. "I'm making coffee."
Verso forgets, sometimes, that Gustave's family isn't a 1:1 to his own. He'd never had to be the eldest, and for a very long time before Alicia came around, he got to be the coddled baby of the family. It's sort of fun to watch the dynamic unfold between the two of them, and for a split second, Verso forgets he's supposed to be miserable.
"You have no idea. He's always putting me to work, this one."
Verso jabs a thumb Gustave's way, as if to say this guy. He's not sure how much Emma knows, if Maelle told her everything or if they've left her to believe the easier-to-swallow story that all of this was somehow the Paintress's doing, so he's careful not to say too much and put his foot in his mouth.
"I'll be going soon." He picks up his ugly ass half-peeled potato again. "Just... thought I'd check in." And peel some potatoes, apparently.
Emma holds up one hand, shaking her head. "Stay as long as you'd like. I'll be in my office if you need anything, Gustave." The place she'd spent as much time holed up in as Gustave had his workshop.
He plucks the potato from Verso's hands, like he's hoping if he's lighthearted enough it might forcibly lift the strange mood that's settled onto the room. "Don't flirt with my little sister."
It wasn't flirting, it was charm, but he wouldn't expect Gustave—who seems painfully oblivious to what actual flirting looks like—to know the difference. He didn't even call her mademoiselle or kiss her hand, which are all real things that he's done multiple times.
"Don't worry, she's too young for me." As is Gustave and everyone else currently in existence, admittedly. He holds out a hand, waiting for his potato back, since apparently that's what they're doing now. Peeling potatoes like there's anything normal about their reality. "I wasn't done. That potato isn't peeled, it's scantily-clad."
"You just complained about me putting you to work. Sit." Gustave tilts his head toward the table, his eyes still careful as they consider Verso. "I'll be finished soon and then we can go."
"Yes? You're clearly looking for an excuse to leave." Gustave hesitates, then adds: "Maelle will be out for another few hours at least. I don't know if that's more or less likely to make you want to stay."
"Not... as such." That is to say, not at all. "But I think it would be better if I didn't infringe upon your get-together."
He's not exactly in a sociable mood, and besides, even if he were, it would be a nightmare to have to introduce himself to a group of people from a city with such a dwindling population that surely everyone knows everyone.
Both?? Verso scratches his beard again. It isn't that he doesn't want to be around Gustave, but more that it feels like he probably shouldn't be. What is he supposed to do, just try to forget that his existence makes everything worse?
"I'm not sure I'm particularly entertaining at the moment. I might bore you."
"You don't need to entertain me," Gustave says, and he seems a little rankled by the suggestion. "I've got books. You could read. Do a jigsaw puzzle. Stare at the ceiling in total silence for an hour— I don't really care. Just stay here for a little while?"
Verso wants to tease Gustave for being so blatantly desperate, but he probably thinks that if Verso walks out his front door, they'll never see each other again. It's not a completely unfounded fear — he's still considering the possibility of making his way back to the Continent. Something tells him he'd be seeing Maelle sooner rather than later if he did that, though.
A long pause stretches out, and then he says, "I am really good at jigsaw puzzles."
Gustave can't help it; he hadn't expected to see Verso on the other side of that door, and he's still mentally calibrating. "Okay," he says, turning to finish with the potatoes. He clears his throat, tries again. "The last week doesn't count. Towards our month, I mean."
That was an agreement he made when he was delusional enough to think that everything wasn't horrible forever. Obviously, things have changed in that regard. Hell, he'd been insane enough to think that maybe he might be able to make this thing with Gustave work for more than a month back then. Now, he's trying to figure out how to break up with him for his own good for a third time.
But that's an unpleasant truth, and he prefers to dance around those. So, instead, he says, "Sorry, I should have said something." He shouldn't have disappeared in the first place, but he's used to being able to ditch Monoco and Esquie for months and years on end before being instantly forgiven. He shrugs. "Rough transition, I guess."
"No, I get it. Something— I mean, something is obviously fucked, right? I just assumed you'd talk about it when you were able." He doesn't believe Verso would have tried to destroy the Canvas without a reason. Not that Gustave has any idea if he'd agree with that reason or not, but that's not the point.
He's matter of fact as he finishes prepping, his back to him. "I'm fine. To wait until you're ready."
no subject
Gustave swallows. He wants to ask about the day they'd forced Maelle's father out of the canvas, is desperate to know what had been the catalyst for the drastic change in his affect.
"Just hold still for a moment, yeah?" Quietly, a verbal and physical echo of the last time he'd closed the distance between them to pull Verso into an embrace.
no subject
Attempting to inject some humor into his voice, he adds, "It'll grow back."
no subject
He keeps the metal arm around Verso's waist, pulling back just enough to use his other hand to catch Verso's jaw and to kiss him soundly. It's clumsy and a little messy for it, but he doesn't care right now.
"There's cassoulet simmering." Vegetarian, because there's no room in Lumière for massive amounts of livestock. "I was about to peel some potatoes— stay and eat something?"
no subject
"Oh," he says to the invitation. There are people coming over, he'd said, and Verso's liable to ruin Gustave's nice little get-together. Even worse, if Maelle comes home, things could get tense. His stomach tightens at the thought of facing her; they've been at a distance since coming back, and he's not quite ready to change that.
He doesn't want to hurt Gustave's feelings, though, so he opts for a lie. "I appreciate the offer, but I just ate." A hand on his stomach, and he adds, "And I don't think 'round and jolly' fits me."
This is the part where he should probably excuse himself. He got what he wanted—to see if Gustave was doing all right, adapting back to Lumiére—and it would be inconsiderate to stick around for more. "—I could help you peel."
no subject
Personal feelings aside (of which there were a lot, more than he was ready to admit to himself - spending his nights reliably clutching Verso's hand in his own had done a number on him those last few weeks), he really is worried. About Verso, about Maelle, the siblings who'd both come to him unwilling to be loved because they felt like they didn't deserve it. Gustave doesn't know the details, of course, but he knows enough for it to make his chest ache.
"Please," he says softly, eyes searching Verso's face, before he turns to lead him to the kitchen and scrub up some potatoes.
no subject
"I didn't know you cooked," he finally says, because this is going to be painful if he doesn't try to keep up some sort of conversation. "What's the occasion?"
Who is it for, essentially, without sounding quite so nosy.
no subject
"We won't be joining," Gustave supplies quickly, shooting Verso a sidelong glance, apologetic, like he should have warned him that Emma was home. "But yes. Thank you. Verso, Emma. She's just passing by on her way to the study." The least subtle hint on the planet.
no subject
"Emma," he echoes, putting down his (still incredibly lumpy) potato and reaching out to shake her hand, charm turned on by habit. "Gustave never said his sister was so young." He's still a dick.
no subject
Gustave!! Doesn't like this any more than you do!!! He sighs, every ounce the exasperated older brother; it is, admittedly, slightly more juvenile than he had usually been on the Continent. "I'm making coffee."
no subject
"You have no idea. He's always putting me to work, this one."
Verso jabs a thumb Gustave's way, as if to say this guy. He's not sure how much Emma knows, if Maelle told her everything or if they've left her to believe the easier-to-swallow story that all of this was somehow the Paintress's doing, so he's careful not to say too much and put his foot in his mouth.
"I'll be going soon." He picks up his ugly ass half-peeled potato again. "Just... thought I'd check in." And peel some potatoes, apparently.
no subject
He plucks the potato from Verso's hands, like he's hoping if he's lighthearted enough it might forcibly lift the strange mood that's settled onto the room. "Don't flirt with my little sister."
no subject
"Don't worry, she's too young for me." As is Gustave and everyone else currently in existence, admittedly. He holds out a hand, waiting for his potato back, since apparently that's what they're doing now. Peeling potatoes like there's anything normal about their reality. "I wasn't done. That potato isn't peeled, it's scantily-clad."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He's not exactly in a sociable mood, and besides, even if he were, it would be a nightmare to have to introduce himself to a group of people from a city with such a dwindling population that surely everyone knows everyone.
no subject
"I'm not on the council," Gustave says slowly. "I'm going to be in my room."
no subject
Both?? Verso scratches his beard again. It isn't that he doesn't want to be around Gustave, but more that it feels like he probably shouldn't be. What is he supposed to do, just try to forget that his existence makes everything worse?
"I'm not sure I'm particularly entertaining at the moment. I might bore you."
no subject
no subject
A long pause stretches out, and then he says, "I am really good at jigsaw puzzles."
no subject
no subject
But that's an unpleasant truth, and he prefers to dance around those. So, instead, he says, "Sorry, I should have said something." He shouldn't have disappeared in the first place, but he's used to being able to ditch Monoco and Esquie for months and years on end before being instantly forgiven. He shrugs. "Rough transition, I guess."
no subject
He's matter of fact as he finishes prepping, his back to him. "I'm fine. To wait until you're ready."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
when i lock the thread again it means im too embarrassed to carry on
😠he was diagnosed with scoliosis AFFECTIONATELY
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
spell it manoeuvre like a real brit
my work laptop autocorrected ton to tonne and i got so mad
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
canonizing that gustave has smelled bad this whole time
it's always been canon, verso is just used noseblind after monoco
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ignore how my default icon doesn't fit the tone at all
oui oui bonjour
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
mama n
i just thought it was cool slang!!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
I wasn't done.
too bad....
fuck my stupid baka life
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
oh no
covers my eyes i saw nothing officer
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...