tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

"It's not exactly the first bedroom window I've climbed out of." Although those were under much more pleasant circumstances.

With some reluctance, he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. Gustave deserves a nice evening with Maelle before he has to broach the uncomfortable topic of her voluntarily leaving the Canvas. In truth, Verso's faith that Gustave can convince her is very little, but he has to exhaust all of his options before he gives up. "You should enjoy your night with her."

[superniceone]

"Enjoy my night with her. Right, sure." Gustave doesn't mean for it to come out so acidically sarcastic, and he immediately waves one hand in apology. He's not certain he's in any condition to spend time with either of his sisters, even disregarding the alcohol.

Which he isn't, because it seems like he has a renewed interest in the fresh bottle he'd procured earlier. He is sad and tired and stressed, and he is going to sit here and drink and read if those are the options he has to find some kind of joy in the night.

Gustave rocks his head back against the headboard. "Take care of yourself, Verso."

[recreatable]

Verso's just a little unsteady on his feet when he stands, approaching Gustave's window to sneak out of it like a teenager who's afraid to get caught by his girlfriend's father. He turns back after a second of deliberation, offering, "You can come by after, if—" If the world hasn't ended, which he imagines it probably won't. That would be too lucky. "If you want."

He'll be dying to know how it went regardless. It would be doing Verso a favor not to make him wait in agony. "Not to brag, but I have wine, too."

[superniceone]

"Come get me tomorrow afternoon, then," Gustave says, wry. His eyes are closed — he's a little afraid that if he looks at him, he's going to ask him to stay for what must be the dozenth time that evening. "I don't know where you live."

[recreatable]

"All right." Dryly humorous, despite everything: "It's a date."

Probably not quite as fun as their last date, but that was a special occasion. The doorknob rattles, and he's gone just in time for Maelle to burst in—

"My compliments to the chef," she teases, before stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with a raised eyebrow. "Are there three bottles of wine in here?"

[superniceone]

For all the stress and frustration, fear and worry he's felt over the course of the evening, the way he smiles at Maelle is sincere. "Yeah," he says, and he plays up his own drunkenness a bit, gesturing for her to approach. "Bit in my head tonight. Come here, you."

canonizing that gustave has smelled bad this whole time

[recreatable]

She crawls into bed easily, the way a little girl crawls into her parents' bed, although this time it's for Gustave's comfort and not her own; she sits up beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder— and then immediately recoiling. "Gustave," she scolds, playfully. "You just stopped stinking, and now you smell like a winery."

it's always been canon, verso is just used noseblind after monoco

[superniceone]

And he grabs her when she does that, in the light and playful way a big brother does when he's intentionally trying to gross out a little sister. "Oh, come on, just hold your nose for a minute, you've been through worse."

[recreatable]

"Oh, I can assure you I haven't!" she argues, waving her hand in front of her nose, although she's laughing. Yes, Gustave reeks of alcohol, but even that isn't enough to discourage her from being around her favorite person. Besides, the copious amount of wine bottles have her a little worried. "What's wrong? You haven't been this openly pathetic since the break-up with Sophie."

Sorry. But it's true.

[superniceone]

"Just having a farewell party for my mustache," Gustave says, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I'll be alright. Just— had a few bottles of wine, so I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. And I hope you know I am." He leans his cheek dramatically against the top of her head. "Cancel your plans in the morning so we can have breakfast."

[recreatable]

"You're so dramatic," she says with a roll of her eyes, although it's obvious she's pleased at being told someone she cares about is proud of her. "We have all the time in the world to have breakfast together, you know."

A moment passes, and then she relents. "Fine. But I want pain au chocolat." A veritable god, and she's still demanding chocolate croissants. She wriggles out from under Gustave's cheek, saying, "We saved dinner for you. Try to sober up before Emma sees."

[superniceone]

"I'm an old man. I'm allowed to be dramatic." Gustave tilts his head slightly at her, watching her with evident fondness. If Maelle looks hard enough, she'll see a little pain there, too, in the furrow of his brow — the same look he often wore when overtaken by grief after watching loved ones taken by the Gommage — but to his credit, he's doing a pretty good job of masking it.

"Feel free to wake me up early in the morning. Really make me suffer for that breakfast."

[recreatable]

"You can't complain about being old anymore," she reminds him as she hops off the bed. "Not until you're actually wrinkly and decrepit."

There's a second where she falters, like maybe she wants to push. If there's anyone in the world who can read Gustave, it's Maelle. But he'd brushed her off before, so— maybe he just isn't ready. She'll broach the topic in the morning, when he has less wine in his bloodstream.

"You have half an hour left to drink alone before I drag you out and make you eat real food." There must be limits on this patheticness! Maelle taps her wrist. "Clock's ticking." With that, she steps out of his room, leaving him to his own devices.

[superniceone]

Gustave will do his best to sober up, slipping out to the kitchen to have a few bites of dinner just to make sure he doesn't raise any alarms with his sisters. He's mostly quiet, plays up his own tiredness and heads to bed early.

Not that he's able to sleep much, anyway. He's up at the crack of dawn, picking up some fresh pastries, and he'll be waiting for Maelle at the kitchen table as he nurses at a coffee the next morning.

ignore how my default icon doesn't fit the tone at all

[recreatable]

Maelle is, of course, thrilled at the pastries. Technically, she could have whatever she wants, but... it's better this way. Just like things used to be, before. Nothing really has to change, save for a few improvements to Lumiére, and no more Gommage hanging over their heads. Things are perfect here, or at least they will be.

As she sits herself at the table, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she says, "Do I need to whisper to spare you the headache?" Are you hungover, Gustave???

oui oui bonjour

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a point of rolling his eyes at her, all melodramatic theatrics. He's exhausted, yes, but he's been up long enough and had enough coffee to mostly feel human again. He'd tossed and turned, worrying about the route this conversation might take, planned and re-planned lectures, his phrasing for how he might convince her, before he'd finally just chucked that all into the bin.

No reason to start with the worst right away. They could just have a conversation. He'd put his faith in her so many times before; he'd try to do it again.

"I barely had a few drinks last night," he scoffs, baiting her into a playful argument as he unpacks the bags.

[recreatable]

"Oh, it's a few drinks now, not a few bottles? Maybe you are getting senile."

She holds her hand out for a pastry, then adds, casually, "Emma said someone came over last night. Is that why you broke out the wine?"

[superniceone]

"Nosy," Gustave says, flicking a crumb at her from the table. "It's not what you think." He takes an almond croissant of his own, humming in appreciation after a bite. "Mm. Tell me: better or worse than the pastries outside the canvas?"

To his credit, he actually sounds pretty natural when he asks — probably because he's genuinely curious.

[recreatable]

It's a requirement for little sisters to be nosy! Maelle gives him a skeptical look, but doesn't push it. Gustave seems to be in a less morose mood this morning, and she'd prefer to keep it that way. "Oh, definitely better," she says, tearing off a piece of croissant. Outside the Canvas, her throat is still raw and sore; hard to enjoy a pastry when it feels like shards of glass in her throat.

[superniceone]

Well! That's depressing! "Sure," he says, reaching across the table to rip off a piece of her croissant. He's got plenty of his own, but that is apparently not going to stop him. "Good motivation for you not to forget about us when you head back," he says, gentle and teasing.

[recreatable]

Maelle holds her croissant out of reach. Rude, Gustave! "Well, that won't be for a while." Then: "And I could never forget about you. Trust me, your breath last night was memorable."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a show of "subtly" checking his own breath with a cupped palm, before he returns to munching his improbably flavored bread. "You should put in an appearance soon. Your other family misses you. And— you know, it might not hurt to give your papa some peace of mind. That's what I'd want, at least."

It's an awkward conversation, but it's less soul rending than he'd thought it would be.

[recreatable]

Shrugging—although it's clear the thought hurts her—she says, "They probably don't even notice I'm gone." And, if they do, they're probably happier for it. One less person for Papa to worry about; one less screw-up Clea has to scold; one less person for Maman to resent. "And I'm not ready to go yet. We just got here."

[superniceone]

"Oh, is that why we had to raise a literal army? Because Renoir forgot where you were?"

This isn't him telling her to leave; he's just challenging the notion that she's invisible.

[recreatable]

Don't challenge her notions!!! "That was before," she argues back. "Now he's back on the outside taking care of Maman."

And she needs a lot of taking care of. She's probably absolutely beside herself right now. She already despises Maelle for the fire, undoubtedly resents her for forcibly expelling her from the Canvas, and she'll hate Maelle even more if she knows that Maelle still has access to the Canvas. The thought makes her sink into herself a little.

Picking at her croissant now: "I'd rather be here."