Gustave isn't appreciating the sexy scientist roleplay enough. Verso could wear nothing but a white lab coat and goggles! Very hot, until he says 'data' when he means 'datum' and turns Gustave off.
"I think you're the one who decides if you've been seduced," he points out, which is just roundabout way of saying I don't know, is it working?
Nothing sexier than a white man hitting you with the well actually mid-coitus.
But if Gustave is outraged, it's only because Verso didn't bat an eye at the way Gustave was whispering sweet nothings at him earlier, and him being an utter jokester is what's going to actually work. He deadweights on top of him, voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you inviting me back to your place because you're worried about having sex when my sister is home?"
The feeling of Gustave's weight—which admittedly is not really that sizeable—on top of him isn't unpleasant, and Verso rests his hand on the small of Gustave's back, but that's all he does. Because, yes, he is sort of worried about that. He's not even sure if Emma knows that they're together (or something — this is a very poorly defined relationship), because Gustave didn't even know, and Verso kind of didn't know until he was asked, either.
"Science can be noisy work." And he's not really sure how thick these walls are.
"We've never made— noisy— science—" Gustave starts, and he wants to be offended, but it just sort of sputters out. He doesn't really have the energy to actually care that much about it one way or the other. He leans in to rest more fully on Verso for a moment, just savoring the closeness of someone he's come to care about, before he rolls off the bed with a reluctant little groan.
"Okay. Come on, then, if you're going to be shy about it."
'Making science' is definitely their worst euphemism yet. 0/10.
He'd argue it's more conscientious than shy, thanks, but he lacks the motivation to do much other than sit up and say, "Right, sorry. I'll keep the science very, very quiet."
Gustave gives him a funny look, and not for the first time it occurs to him that neither of them are really in any condition to do — well. Much of anything, it's starting to seem like.
But he shakes it off, pulling a jacket from his closet and slipping it on. "Come on. You're right. I wouldn't want to scandalize Emma."
That is absolutely the last thing Gustave expects to come out of Verso's mouth, and the shock of it combined with the absolutely idiotic metaphor shatter the absolute worst part of his mood somehow. He laughs, starts to talk and then laughs again, pressing his hand to his face.
"We've always managed just fine before," he says slowly, his shoulders trembling just slightly. "You promised me wine. I've got few expectations past that, I promise you."
Verso stares, ears turning slightly red. On one hand, he's happy that Gustave is laughing, but on the other, why is he laughing!! Verso was being perfectly reasonable to set up expectations beforehand. He didn't want Gustave to get there and then be disappointed!
"—All right. Should we go before or after I fling myself into the sea?"
Verso seems so effortlessly magnetic all of the time that it always surprises Gustave a little to see him embarrassed. "It was just the phrasing," he reassures him softly, and then hesitates, because they're two grown men who should be able to talk! Frankly! About sex!! "Is that the sort of— thing you'd like to try in the future?"
Gustave has never once been intentionally sexy in his life, and would genuinely be a little shocked to find out he'd ever been so accidentally. He tilts his head at Verso with a half smile, expression fond. "I'm amenable," he agrees softly, and — well, it's kind of nice to know their weird little relationship will last another few days at least. "Come on, then. Take me home with you."
"You're the people's hero," he says drily; it's not Gustave's fault everyone likes him. As he leads Gustave further inside, it's clear that this place is nowhere near lived in — the furnishing is minimalistic, although clearly designed to keep him happy. Untouched books on the shelves, the only one out on the coffee table the one Gustave had returned to him with the pressed blossoms inside. There's a piano, but there's no sheet music.
He takes the gifted flower and sticks it in Gustave's shirt pocket. He can keep it — Verso doesn't want a reminder of all the destruction caused in his wake. Very casually, he says, "What does Sophie make of all of this?" Gustave isn't the only one who suspects he might get dumped.
"I'm a familiar face," Gustave counters, and— well, it's not like he thinks he's unpopular or unlikeable. He's always been a bit of an awkward nerd, but he has always really enjoyed people. He loved the people of Lumière; it's one of the reasons why he'd been so determined to save it.
He snorts a little at the flower, taking both it and the one he'd been given, tucking them into the pocket of his jacket instead. He drifts to the piano, plunking out a few simple chords; it's less depressing than looking at this carefully arranged little habitat created for Verso.
"Uh—" Gustave has to pause and actually think about the question. "We're not telling everyone about everything, you know? Just certain people. She seems glad to be back, I think."
Verso hums noncommittally. He's not going to encourage Gustave to reconnect with the love of his life, even though he probably should for Gustave's sake. Besides, it's hypocritical. He hasn't even broached the idea of Julie with Maelle. He wouldn't know where to start.
So, he just says, "I see. Dark and mysterious." Leave her guessing, Gustave! Keep her in the dark about the harsh realities of this world! It'll drive her crazy (really crazy).
Then, canting his head toward Gustave: "An engineer and a musician, too. Have you ever played?" Gustave doesn't really strike him as the musical type, honestly. He'd probably rather disassemble and reassemble the piano.
"Not trying to be mysterious. I just—" Gustave sucks his breath in through his teeth, frowning thoughtfully. "I want her to be happy. I think she will be."
He chuckles quietly at the question, though, playing the first few notes of Chopsticks. Verso's famous composition, isn't it? "I took some lessons when I was young. I was— fine." Gustave's music was just like his art: the technical skills were there, but there was no inspiration to create, no passion behind his rote ability to copy whatever already existed in front of him.
'Fine' seems about right. He can't really imagine Gustave practicing until his fingers bleed. It'd cut into his inventing time.
"We can't all write Chopsticks," he snarks, before gesturing for Gustave to make himself at home. There's a divan for him to sit on if he wants, although the whole area looks a little sterile, like a model home. Fitting, really, since Verso's just a model person in a model family. "I'll, uh, get the wine."
"Sure," Gustave says, and he considers the divan before drifting to the bookshelf. He doesn't really expect this to reflect Verso's taste, necessarily, but he is curious to know what's been arranged for him here. He thinks he should probably be happy that Verso has such a well-furnished home here, that he's been so well set up in the city. He probably would be, too, if he weren't so well aware of the fact that Verso wasn't sure he even wanted to be there at all.
There's nothing out of the ordinary on the bookshelf, really, but Gustave might notice that they're all books Maelle is fond of.
"That's a little presumptuous. The smiling and hair-twirling could mean anything."
Joking, of course, as he returns with two bottles in hand — one already half-depleted, for himself, and a new one for Gustave. He's a gracious host who won't make Gustave drink his backwash, because he didn't exactly buy wine glasses, either. Until yesterday, he hadn't expected to ever have anyone over, and last night's conversation really hadn't left him with the desire to go shopping.
"I feel like it's fair to point out that's just the way she is," Gustave says, continuing to absolutely miss the flashing neon signs right in front of his face. He doesn't seem bothered by being handed a bottle directly; he did have wine glasses, and he'd still forced Verso to drink like a philistine anyway.
He clears his throat, though, because it feels a bit silly to talk about someone Verso doesn't know, and moves on. "It's a nice place. Do think your hut had a bit more charm."
Uh, yeah, you think that's just the way she is because she's always flirting with you, he absolutely does not say, because if Gustave has dropped the subject, it'd be pretty stupid to try to convince him a beautiful woman wants to have sex with him.
"Everyone's a critic," he gripes even though he actually agrees, taking a seat on the piano bench, turned around so that he can look at Gustave. "But there's far more things to lounge handsomely on here."
He slides the fall board down behind him, making a point of leaning an elbow back on the piano so that he can do the aforementioned handsome lounging. It's the first time he's even sat at this piano, actually; much like Gustave, he's experiencing some creative block.
Gustave has really picked up so well on the applause that Verso needs to survive. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he lifts his bottle back. "You're not so bad yourself, bel homme."
Bad at being intentionally attractive, maybe. Very talented at being accidentally so, though.
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"I think you're the one who decides if you've been seduced," he points out, which is just roundabout way of saying I don't know, is it working?
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But if Gustave is outraged, it's only because Verso didn't bat an eye at the way Gustave was whispering sweet nothings at him earlier, and him being an utter jokester is what's going to actually work. He deadweights on top of him, voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you inviting me back to your place because you're worried about having sex when my sister is home?"
He's just curious.
covers my eyes i saw nothing officer
"Science can be noisy work." And he's not really sure how thick these walls are.
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"Okay. Come on, then, if you're going to be shy about it."
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He'd argue it's more conscientious than shy, thanks, but he lacks the motivation to do much other than sit up and say, "Right, sorry. I'll keep the science very, very quiet."
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But he shakes it off, pulling a jacket from his closet and slipping it on. "Come on. You're right. I wouldn't want to scandalize Emma."
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Although— "I haven't, uh... bought science equipment." Wow, he cringes a little. Grossest way to phrase that. "Just to temper your expectations."
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"We've always managed just fine before," he says slowly, his shoulders trembling just slightly. "You promised me wine. I've got few expectations past that, I promise you."
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"—All right. Should we go before or after I fling myself into the sea?"
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"If you're amenable to it, yes, I would very much like to have intercourse with you."
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Verso wouldn't call it 'home', really, but that's too somber of a conversation to have when he's trying to keep things as forcibly light as possible for Gustave's sake. He leads them out through the house and out onto the streets of Lumiére, where there's an obvious discomfort at being among the citizens here; he keeps his head down, keeps to the periphery, doesn't let his gaze linger on any of them too long.
Still, he jostles Gustave's elbow with his own. "I guess that's a rain check on throwing myself into the harbor, then."
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"Hey," he says when they finally arrive, "sorry about that."
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"You're the people's hero," he says drily; it's not Gustave's fault everyone likes him. As he leads Gustave further inside, it's clear that this place is nowhere near lived in — the furnishing is minimalistic, although clearly designed to keep him happy. Untouched books on the shelves, the only one out on the coffee table the one Gustave had returned to him with the pressed blossoms inside. There's a piano, but there's no sheet music.
He takes the gifted flower and sticks it in Gustave's shirt pocket. He can keep it — Verso doesn't want a reminder of all the destruction caused in his wake. Very casually, he says, "What does Sophie make of all of this?" Gustave isn't the only one who suspects he might get dumped.
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He snorts a little at the flower, taking both it and the one he'd been given, tucking them into the pocket of his jacket instead. He drifts to the piano, plunking out a few simple chords; it's less depressing than looking at this carefully arranged little habitat created for Verso.
"Uh—" Gustave has to pause and actually think about the question. "We're not telling everyone about everything, you know? Just certain people. She seems glad to be back, I think."
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So, he just says, "I see. Dark and mysterious." Leave her guessing, Gustave! Keep her in the dark about the harsh realities of this world! It'll drive her crazy (really crazy).
Then, canting his head toward Gustave: "An engineer and a musician, too. Have you ever played?" Gustave doesn't really strike him as the musical type, honestly. He'd probably rather disassemble and reassemble the piano.
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He chuckles quietly at the question, though, playing the first few notes of Chopsticks. Verso's famous composition, isn't it? "I took some lessons when I was young. I was— fine." Gustave's music was just like his art: the technical skills were there, but there was no inspiration to create, no passion behind his rote ability to copy whatever already existed in front of him.
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"We can't all write Chopsticks," he snarks, before gesturing for Gustave to make himself at home. There's a divan for him to sit on if he wants, although the whole area looks a little sterile, like a model home. Fitting, really, since Verso's just a model person in a model family. "I'll, uh, get the wine."
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"Hey," he says when Verso returns, and he moves to perch a little awkwardly at the edge of the divan. "Do you think Ophélie was flirting with me? Not to sound vain."
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"That's a little presumptuous. The smiling and hair-twirling could mean anything."
Joking, of course, as he returns with two bottles in hand — one already half-depleted, for himself, and a new one for Gustave. He's a gracious host who won't make Gustave drink his backwash, because he didn't exactly buy wine glasses, either. Until yesterday, he hadn't expected to ever have anyone over, and last night's conversation really hadn't left him with the desire to go shopping.
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He clears his throat, though, because it feels a bit silly to talk about someone Verso doesn't know, and moves on. "It's a nice place. Do think your hut had a bit more charm."
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"Everyone's a critic," he gripes even though he actually agrees, taking a seat on the piano bench, turned around so that he can look at Gustave. "But there's far more things to lounge handsomely on here."
He slides the fall board down behind him, making a point of leaning an elbow back on the piano so that he can do the aforementioned handsome lounging. It's the first time he's even sat at this piano, actually; much like Gustave, he's experiencing some creative block.
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Except Gustave is one of those boring aggressively monogamous kind of guys, and where he hadn't really seemed to take actual notice of Ophélie's flirtatious overtures, he is clearly dialed in to Verso's. He makes a point of inspecting him, then lifts his bottle of wine slightly. "You are the reigning champion of handsome lounging, after all. I really should be taking notes."
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Bad at being intentionally attractive, maybe. Very talented at being accidentally so, though.
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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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