"Ready has nothing to do with it, Verso," Gustave says quietly, though it's clear he's relieved when Verso takes a seat instead of beelining for the door. "I knew something was wrong when the two of you fought. It's a relief in a way. Knowing I wasn't just jumping at ghosts."
He leans into Verso, though not really resting his weight onto him. Taking comfort, maybe, in just having someone there.
Ready has everything to do with it. He remembers Clea dropping the truth into his lap without any care at all; he'd always known something was wrong, too, but it hadn't made the resulting fallout any easier. He should have been gentler with it, at least, eased Gustave into the idea.
He rubs Gustave's back comfortingly, the way he'd done in the entryway. He's no good at real comfort, the kind that actually looks the problem in the face, but he can offer distractions. "So," he says softly, "are you going to make more Sakapatate?"
Gustave doesn't mean to snort a laugh at that question, but it sort of just comes out unbidden. "I think that's fully dependent on how much more wine I'm able to sneak in here without my sister realizing," he muses wryly, like he's not still fully distracted.
This is good. He's going to get a good grade in cheering Gustave up.
"I'll distract the council members for you, if you like. Run naked through the dining room, toss a dismembered foot through the air..." Obviously, he is being deranged for the sake of making Gustave laugh again. "I'm open to suggestions."
"No good. Can't have any of them falling in love with you, I've got enough problems on my plate." He bumps him gently in the ribs with his elbow, before offering him a sip of the white.
Verso takes the sip, casual, although he doesn't stop the reassuring movement of his hand on Gustave's back. "From an airborne foot?" He offers the bottle back. "Clearly, I've been doing this seduction thing all wrong."
"Oh, yes, that's exactly what I was talking about." Gustave wants to be annoyed by the hand on his back, if only because— it's an odd feeling, being the one getting comforted. Verso has been sitting with this anxiety for more than a week; he shouldn't be the one having to soothe Gustave's nerves
He closes his eyes, taking a bracing breath. "I'm going to finish my book and drink. And after that, I'll let myself start worrying again. Do you think you could, uh." Loiter, is what he wants to ask, but it feels selfish. He can't blame him for wanting to be alone.
"Verso." He's rolling his eyes as he shakes the hand off his back, but there's a breath of laughter, too. "Do a puzzle. Read your own book. Nap. One of those."
It does feel like he should leave. He's still grappling with the fact that his continued existence in this world will forever torment his mother, and that he's now surrounded with people who have suffered greatly in order to protect that existence, and that he's failed to protect his sister from herself—
He's not feeling great about himself, is the point; it feels as if everything he touches rusts and tarnishes. But Gustave is asking him to stay, and it's hard to say no to those big, brown eyes.
"...Yeah. Sure." He stands, wandering over to the bookshelf. "I can read, uh— Machine Design Using Kinematic Principles." He grimaces, then plucks the book from its shelf by the spine. "Sounds like a nice, light read."
It's not as if Gustave would be able to dispute any of that regardless of how hard he tried. Verso's life was goddamn tragic. But he hadn't asked for any of it; his existence was the catalyst for disaster, not the choices he made.
Maybe they're just excuses he's making for someone he's found himself caring deeply about. He'll do his best to unpack those someday, if they ever actually have the chance.
"I just finished The Red Sphinx this morning," he says, indicating his bedside table. "Might be a little more palatable to you."
"Unpalatable? No. Not when it looks so... comprehensive." It looks like the dryest fucking book on the face of the planet. "—I'm just worried I'll love it too much to leave it behind." Tragic!!! "Probably better not to test that."
He slides the offending book back into its slot on the bookshelf before swiping up its replacement on the bedside table, absconding to Gustave's seat in front of the drafting table to read.
Gustave stares at him for a long moment, before he shakes his head with a muttered "Chiant." He drags his fingers through his hair and checks the time, deciding he's got enough time to thieve one last bottle before company arrives — because he's not immune to wanting to get drunk after the fourth or fifth time this year facing the forcible recontextualization of everything he knows about this world.
He's got a new bottle when he returns, holding an apple with his teeth as he maneuvers the door shut. The way he drops into his mattress is more reminiscent of a beleaguered teenager than a professional in his thirties, but he's wine drunk and he's had a rough day!!!
"Eat the bread," he calls from his bed. "You haven't had dinner."
Don't call him out for obviously lying! He flips a page, then reaches down to raise the bottle he's set beside his chair. It would be more convenient to perch it on Gustave's drafting table, but he doesn't want it to spill on Gustave's nice little Sakapatate blueprints.
"What I'm attempting works better on an empty stomach."
my work laptop autocorrected ton to tonne and i got so mad
"Suit yourself," Gustave says after a moment, exasperated as he settles himself against the headboard. The biggest indication of his prolonged singleness is probably the way his bed is shoved flush against the wall to conserve space, leaving only the end and one side as easy access points. It's comfortable for lounging, at least.
He lapses into silence for a while then, desperate quiet the frantic buzzing in his head, leaning on both the book and the booze to do just that.
Verso reads and drinks in silence, just like Gustave. Occasionally, he peers over at Gustave where he's laid out on the bed, just to make sure he hasn't combusted from thinking too hard. He takes a sip, reads a page, repeat. He makes it to the Queen and the king's brother plotting against Cardinal Richelieu, and—
He gasps. So maybe he's a little tipsy!! He presses the book over his mouth. "Pardon."
Verso's reaction alone is funnier than the gasp itself is. Everything is still terrible and sad and terrifying, but his face is warm and Verso is nearby and— it's not everything, but it's not nothing, either. If this is the little piece of contentment he can carve out for himself before the conversation he'd promised to have the next morning, then he'll take it.
All of which to say: he's laughing hard enough that he just hides his face behind the book entirely, all stifled save for a few rumbling little chuckles. "That exciting, mon cher?" It feels safe to tease him again.
"Shut up," he says, although it's good-natured; he's laughing, too. It's a weight off of his chest to see Gustave still smiling. After all, it's hard not to feel responsible for his frown in the first place. "Do you have any idea what it's like to read the same five books for seven decades?"
"I don't," Gustave says evenly, and he feels the same way: he's relieved Verso is still capable of genuine sounding laughter. "But I feel like you should have been more excited for Machine Design Using Kinematic Principles in that case."
He's going to forget that he's meant to be reading and just kind of Watch Verso instead for a few minutes, apparently.
"You said it like an insult," Gustave accuses, before he points at his desk. "Bring me the plate if you're not going to eat it." He's going to get crumbs in his bed, which was an absolutely horrifying possibility before he spent months sleeping on the ground.
Let it be noted that Verso never asked for a bougie charcuterie in the first place. But he complies, standing and bringing the plate to Gustave's bed, holding it out for him like a waiter. He has a split-second urge to crawl into bed next to Gustave, but he doesn't act on it. "The chef's special, monsieur."
Gustave abandoned the actual dinner he'd made; he's going to at least graze!! "Ridiculous," he exhales, taking the plate and settling it on his own lap. He has a bite and finally seems to remember his own book. "Much more comfortable up here than that chair," he advises, "just in case your back starts getting stiff."
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"I'm sorry," he says after a moment. "I didn't think about if you were ready to hear it."
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He leans into Verso, though not really resting his weight onto him. Taking comfort, maybe, in just having someone there.
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He rubs Gustave's back comfortingly, the way he'd done in the entryway. He's no good at real comfort, the kind that actually looks the problem in the face, but he can offer distractions. "So," he says softly, "are you going to make more Sakapatate?"
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He's so tired of goodbyes, he thinks.
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"I'll distract the council members for you, if you like. Run naked through the dining room, toss a dismembered foot through the air..." Obviously, he is being deranged for the sake of making Gustave laugh again. "I'm open to suggestions."
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He closes his eyes, taking a bracing breath. "I'm going to finish my book and drink. And after that, I'll let myself start worrying again. Do you think you could, uh." Loiter, is what he wants to ask, but it feels selfish. He can't blame him for wanting to be alone.
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The answer to all three is yes, by the way!!!
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He's not feeling great about himself, is the point; it feels as if everything he touches rusts and tarnishes. But Gustave is asking him to stay, and it's hard to say no to those big, brown eyes.
"...Yeah. Sure." He stands, wandering over to the bookshelf. "I can read, uh— Machine Design Using Kinematic Principles." He grimaces, then plucks the book from its shelf by the spine. "Sounds like a nice, light read."
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Maybe they're just excuses he's making for someone he's found himself caring deeply about. He'll do his best to unpack those someday, if they ever actually have the chance.
"I just finished The Red Sphinx this morning," he says, indicating his bedside table. "Might be a little more palatable to you."
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He slides the offending book back into its slot on the bookshelf before swiping up its replacement on the bedside table, absconding to Gustave's seat in front of the drafting table to read.
"I'll, uh, try not to gasp too much."
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He's got a new bottle when he returns, holding an apple with his teeth as he maneuvers the door shut. The way he drops into his mattress is more reminiscent of a beleaguered teenager than a professional in his thirties, but he's wine drunk and he's had a rough day!!!
"Eat the bread," he calls from his bed. "You haven't had dinner."
spell it manoeuvre like a real brit
Don't call him out for obviously lying! He flips a page, then reaches down to raise the bottle he's set beside his chair. It would be more convenient to perch it on Gustave's drafting table, but he doesn't want it to spill on Gustave's nice little Sakapatate blueprints.
"What I'm attempting works better on an empty stomach."
my work laptop autocorrected ton to tonne and i got so mad
He lapses into silence for a while then, desperate quiet the frantic buzzing in his head, leaning on both the book and the booze to do just that.
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He gasps. So maybe he's a little tipsy!! He presses the book over his mouth. "Pardon."
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All of which to say: he's laughing hard enough that he just hides his face behind the book entirely, all stifled save for a few rumbling little chuckles. "That exciting, mon cher?" It feels safe to tease him again.
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He's going to forget that he's meant to be reading and just kind of Watch Verso instead for a few minutes, apparently.
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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
i just thought it was cool slang!!!
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I wasn't done.
too bad....
fuck my stupid baka life
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oh no
covers my eyes i saw nothing officer
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verso when he gets called out on the problematic age gap https://tinyurl.com/4b23jztk
holy shit that's hilarious
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