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[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[superniceone]

Gustave realizes after a moment that he's forgotten glasses. After a moment's deliberation, he uncorks the bottle of wine and has a pull from it directly, before he drops into the seat at his desk and offers it out to Verso.

"I never said I hated them. They were just a bit— much. In large groups."

[recreatable]

"Oh, in small groups, too."

Verso recognizes that they're a bit much. Or a lot much. He holds an awful lot of affection for them regardless, the way you love an annoying cousin because despite everything, they're still family.

He takes the bottle of wine, taking what is probably an excessively long swig before returning it. It would just be nice to be a little tipsy for this, is all. The world would probably be a lot more tolerable if it were more fuzzy.

"As talented as you are at drawing Sakapatate, I can't help but notice you didn't finish your train blueprints."

[superniceone]

"Well," Gustave starts, drumming his fingers on the desktop and glancing at his papers. "You know how it is." Like this is a common problem, impulsively doodling gestral combat machines instead of trains.

He waves his hand dismissively, as if everything has been explained, and keeps busy by tearing off a piece of bread.

[recreatable]

"Creative block?" He shrugs. Obviously, his creative block doesn't take quite the same form as Gustave's, but it's all the same when you get down to it, isn't it? "I'm familiar with it, yes."

[superniceone]

Gustave shakes his head no, chases the bougie-ass little French charcuterie with another drink. It doesn't taste bad, but it's also clear he's not drinking for the taste.

"Not to sound like an angsty teenager, I'm just—" He hesitates. "Struggling to see the point, I guess. I'll get over it."

[recreatable]

Verso's really not the person to go to for 'finding the point of it all', but to his credit, he does try. He glances over at Gustave's aborted blueprints again, frowning.

"The point is... to create something beautiful. To find meaning in meaninglessness." That's the point of all art, he assumes, and this must be as much an art as a science. "To get respite where you can find it."

Not to be too philosophical about Gustave's lack of interest in railways. "If trains don't do that for you, then—" Another shrug. "I'm sure the gestrals would take your Sakapatate designs."

[superniceone]

Gustave seems slightly taken aback by that; partially because he'd expected commiseration, if anything, and partly because he'd been speaking in a practical sense. They'd need teams to do land surveys, to figure out paths for the tracks, to say nothing of not really knowing what shape the internals of the trains were in. Or, he could just ask Maelle, pretty please, would you be able to paint something up? Wouldn't that be more efficient in every sense?

But Verso's encouragement makes him smile subtly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the tops of his thighs.

"You really are the most beautiful man I've ever known," he says, simple and sincere.

[recreatable]

"Mm," is his initial response to that. Verso doesn't feel particularly beautiful in any sense. He feels like he might be uniquely awful, actually. He reaches out for the wine bottle, taking another large gulp before saying, "It's the hair. Good hair hides a multitude of sins."

[superniceone]

"I thought that's how I was meant to flirt with you," he says, indicating for Verso to just keep that bottle as he opens the white for himself. "I need to write these rules down."

[recreatable]

"No, that was good." If he felt even slightly less terrible about himself, he'd probably already be trying to make out with Gustave. But then again, that has little to do with the success of any flirting and more to do with his libido.

"I just—" Merde. He takes another drink. "Will you believe me if I say it's not you, it's me?"

[superniceone]

"Yes." It's just as matter-of-fact as before. Gustave hadn't been expecting any swooning, any sex or romance; it had mostly just been a clumsy attempt to coax another smile out of him. He leans back in his chair, picking at the label on the bottle in his own hands. "I don't think your - cautious optimism before was a lie. Obviously something is wrong."

[recreatable]

Verso stares into the mouth of the bottle for a moment, then:

"I need you to do something for me." Apropos of nothing, seemingly. He waffles for a moment, considering his next words carefully. There's a lot of things he could ask of Gustave, but one is probably most pertinent. "Maelle can't stay here. This place will kill her."

[superniceone]

Verso goes from 0 to 100 so fast that Gustave quite literally does not understand. He leans back slightly, glancing at the walls of the room before he looks back to Verso, struggling. "My- house?"

[recreatable]

"Your— what?" What is blud yapping about??? "Putain. The Canvas, Gustave."

There's an obvious mounting frustration that Gustave doesn't just get it right away, but he sighs and shoves that down. "She said she was going to use it responsibly, but—" But Maman couldn't do so, and his faith in Maelle to do the same has been steadily running out. "I need you to make sure that she does."

[superniceone]

To Gustave's credit, it does seem to snap into place with that. His eyes widen, then narrow, before he abruptly drains a sizeable portion of the bottle that he's clinging onto. That's it. That's the dropping shoe he's been waiting on for more than a week now.

"That's what the two of you fought about. That's why you wanted to-" Erase it. Erase them.

[recreatable]

Verso does feel guilty enough about it to hang his head like a shamed dog, but he still says, "This Canvas is poison. She'll always want to come back." He's not sure if he's talking about Maman or Maelle. The only difference is that Maman has been forcibly cut off, but that hardly matters. She'll still want to spend every waking moment trying to get back in as long as the Canvas exists.

"It would be better if it were all gone." Unfortunately, that isn't an option anymore. He tried, and he failed. "But maybe you can convince her to leave, before it eats away at her."

[superniceone]

Gustave swears under his breath, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "She's - that was the plan, wasn't it? That she'd go to see her family there, and then come back here. You think she's changed her mind."

[recreatable]

Not so much 'changed her mind' as 'never intended to follow through in the first place'. Maybe she told herself she would, deluded herself into believing she would be responsible, but— he can't shake the image of Maman, stumbling and coughing, but desperate to find her way back into the thing actively killing her. He couldn't bear watching Maelle do the same or, even worse, refusing to leave while continuing to deteriorate in this place.

"I think it's hard to resist." To say the least. "In here, things are... different for her."

The single worst moment of her life is undone, and therefore everything that came after is undone, too. The grief, the physical pain, her mother's resentment. She doesn't have to deal with any of that here.

"But it's not real."

[superniceone]

"It's not real," Gustave echoes, and his face shutters slightly at that. Fuck. It would have been better for her if it had just all ended. "Merde. Yes. Of course I'll talk to her. You should have come to me earlier."

[recreatable]

He's a little taken aback by the quick agreement. "I thought— I thought you might be afraid of what her father might do to the Canvas if she leaves." Because there's always a chance that he'll destroy it, as long as Maelle isn't in it; all of Lumiére gone in an instant. It's a sacrifice Verso is willing to make, one he's spent years deliberating, but he imagines the thought doesn't sit well with Gustave.

[superniceone]

"Of course I am." Gustave stands up then, wine still in his hand. This is enough to make him start pacing, his mind kicking into abrupt overdrive. "It's terrifying. But the longer Maelle stays, the more likely it is to happen. And if Lumiere evaporating again means Maelle's safety, then- it is what it is."

[recreatable]

It's his exact sentiment being echoed back at him, but somehow it doesn't feel quite so good to hear it is what it is. Maybe it would have been kinder not to burden Gustave with this knowledge.

"Okay," he says, before taking another sip and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Then you'll talk to her." His own attempt at reasoning with her didn't go so well, but maybe things will be different with Gustave. "Tonight?"

[superniceone]

"In the morning," Gustave says with shake of the head, every muscle in his body strung tight. "Conversations like that— they're no good late at night. Emotions are more volatile. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, when she's not been out all evening."

[recreatable]

"—All right. In the morning."

Watching Gustave coiled tight like a spring, yes, Verso does start to think that he made a mistake in confiding in him. He could have tried harder on his own. Talked to Maelle again, no matter how fruitless it might be. Even though he's the one who caused the distress in the first place, he feels the ridiculous urge to reach out and soothe. He does, but only insomuch that he catches Gustave's arm the next time he paces by.

"Hey. Pacing isn't going to make Maelle any safer."

[superniceone]

"What?" Gustave seems almost startled by that, halting immediately when he's touched like he's almost startled by that. "No, sorry, I know, I'm just- thinking." He takes Verso's wrist, bringing it up to his mouth to skim his fingers with an almost distracted kiss. "Deciding what to say to her." He's going to be up all night.