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[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[superniceone]

"Very funny." Verso does look nice, and Gustave seems torn for a split second, like he's not sure if he should greet him with a touch or a kiss or— anything at all, really. Finally he just decides to go to his closet, to dig out some clothes more suited to going out than just lounging. "Fresh air will be good for me."

[recreatable]

"I'm surprised you didn't get enough fresh air to last you a lifetime on the Continent." Admittedly, Verso sort of misses all of that fresh air. He quirks an eyebrow, then, asking, "Should I turn around to preserve your modesty?"

[superniceone]

That's like getting enough food to last you a lifetime in one meal, he thinks. Gustave is still struggling with the fact that he finds his home a little claustrophobia-inducing now. "Only if you're trying to hurt my feelings," he says as he starts to change, but he will nod to his bedroom door, silently asking Verso to nudge it a little further shut.

[recreatable]

"I wouldn't dare offend," he says with a hand up, as if pledging. He uses his foot to gently shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he blatantly checks Gustave out while he changes. No amount of suicidality can keep his baseline level of horniness down.

[superniceone]

Gustave rolls his eyes while he's buttoning up his shirt, if only because he's a lean — borderline scrawny — dude, and he's not sure he's ever been openly checked out like that; it makes more sense to assume Verso is just gently making fun of him.

"Did you want to head out right away?" He reminds himself to ask about how Monoco's doing on the walk to the gardens.

[recreatable]

"Sure," he jokes, "if you're going to keep buttoning up like that."

The implication being, of course, that the only reason he'd want to stick around is if Gustave were going to take everything off again. Honestly, he's a little nervous about the prospect of Maelle being around here somewhere; going out is anxiety-provoking, but so is staying in when it means that she could show up any minute.

Once Gustave is fully dressed, he tips his head, complimentary. "You look nice." Especially now that his facial hair is growing back in.

[superniceone]

It's grown back just enough to start getting really itchy, but there's no chance in hell he's going to give Verso the opportunity to suggest he has a baby face again, so he's just going to deal with it. "You do, too," Gustave says. He immediately buffers a second, trying to remember if he's already said that or just thought it, and then decides it doesn't matter: if he has, it bears repeating.

He gestures for Verso to follow him, heading to first let Emma know he's actually leaving the house this time before he pulls on his shoes. "So Monoco's moved in, has he?"

[recreatable]

"Something like that," he answers as they make it out the door.

The Hanging Gardens weren't quite as much his haunt as they seem to be Maelle and Gustave's, but Verso still remembers the way, even after all this time. 67 years, and Lumiére is still fresh in his memory. He does still keep to the side, prepared for Gustave to be stopped by an admirer or two, but he doesn't shrink away from the populace quite as much as he did the last time they walked the streets of Lumiére.

"For a little while." He casts a sidelong glance at Gustave. "I think human society is taking its toll on him."

[superniceone]

"He's the only thing my apprentices wanted to talk about, you know." Gustave chuckles quietly at the memory, and he drifts close to Verso as they walk. The handful of interruptions this time are politely waved off with a quiet 'Sorry, in a hurry.' "They're gentle boys. I caught them sparring with sticks after they listened to some of his stories."

[recreatable]

The stone streets of Lumiére turn to planks of wood as Verso steps up the stairs to lead them to the upper levels of the city. He breathes a sigh of relief that it's less crowded the higher they go; improved mood or not, he wouldn't have offered to go to the Hanging Gardens if he'd thought they'd have to contend with too many people. It's still difficult to walk among them, but even putting the deep-seated guilt aside, he'd prefer privacy for this.

Gustave doesn't need it, but Verso holds out a hand to help him up the stairs anyway. "So what I'm hearing is he's a bad influence."

[superniceone]

Gustave is similarly relieved, though it feels like treachery to admit that to even himself. It's not guilt for him, exactly, though he'd be hard pressed to choose a word to describe it. He loved Lumière, and he still does, but there's no denying the anxiety its mere existence invokes.

The company helps. He laughs a little in surprise at the hand, but takes it with a genuine murmur of appreciation. No, he doesn't need it — but it's nice to have anyway. "Yes. The worst. Adrien actually stopped by this morning to ask if I knew where he was."

[recreatable]

Verso lets the hand linger for about a second more than is proper before dropping it. "I'd offer to send him over to your workshop, but I'm not sure I want to be liable for what he'd do to it."

[superniceone]

"I wouldn't dare steal your best friend from you." Gustave is— well, honestly, a little exasperated at himself by how sweet he finds that subtle hint of affection there. In response, he rests his hand briefly at the small of Verso's back while they walk, an idle and fond touch. "Though rebuilding it might be a good project for the boys."

[recreatable]

"Steal Monoco?" Lumiére is, at the end of the day, a tiny little city on a tiny little island, and the walk to the Hanging Gardens isn't very long. There's greenery around them soon enough, and Verso reaches out to thumb at a bit of ivy hanging from a wooden post. "I'd like to see you try."

[superniceone]

He thinks, just for a moment, that the deep flush of the foliage in the Ancient Sanctuary completely overwhelms anything that might grow here— and then feels a little odd, like he's actively betraying Lumière now. "Got my eyes on Esquie, actually. We are both fond of rocks."

[recreatable]

"Now that's not playing fair. Esquie's much easier to steal."

Everyone Esquie meets is his new best friend. Verso's just benefitted from that by virtue of being one of the only people Esquie ever met who lived. Besides, Gustave let Esquie pet his hair. That's an unbreakable bond, right there.

He steps further into the gardens, taking a seat on a bench underneath a flowering overhang of plants. One can see the Monolith from here, strangely blank and empty. "It's been a long time since I've been here," he muses. Pre-Fracture, maybe. His visits to Lumière post-Expedition Zero hadn't involved much sightseeing. "Hasn't changed much."

[superniceone]

"Feels a bit— manufactured," Gustave says in a tone that says he agrees, before he chuckles a little dryly at himself. "But I guess that's the point. Kind of strange, thinking back on it now. How many flowers this city grows." Maybe they'd just collectively felt some kinship in their transient nature.

He glances back at Verso, then smiles crookedly, trying to shake off the lingering melancholy. "Do you have a favorite?"

[recreatable]

Verso had liked the flowers they picked in the Ancient Sanctuary. He'd liked the way Esquie had preened after being gifted them, how the orange-red blossoms had matched Maelle's hair.

"The camellia," he plucks out of thin air, pointing. "Symbolizes perfection." Because of course he knows floriography. He's showing off. "And, uh, that one..." His index finger drifts to the right. "If I recall, it symbolizes... pinkness."

All right, he doesn't know floriography that well.

[superniceone]

Gustave's face crinkles in amusement, and he moves to sit on the bench next to Verso, maintaining the sort of polite distance Verso had kept when they were walking up. "Close," he says. "The flower's called a Fringed Pink. Means 'thank you.' Or something like that, at least."

He won't mention the time he'd spent up in these gardens with Sophie, the hours they'd spent talking about nothing, the time they'd wasted looking up the meanings of all the flowers blossoming here and playfully arguing about them. God, they'd been so hopeful.

[recreatable]

"No, I think I was right. It definitely symbolizes pinkness."

Now that Gustave is sitting next to him, Verso slips a hand into his pocket, a little nervous. "I have to admit something — I did have ulterior motives for bringing you here."

[superniceone]

The vaguely wistful smile on Gustave's face disappears. He's both straightening up and immediately jumping to conclusions. "There's no way I can change your mind?"

He thinks: it would be like Verso to bring him somewhere nice to tell him he's fucking off entirely, like that would somehow soften the blow.

[recreatable]

"—Sorry?"

Verso frowns, taken aback by the response. He hadn't expected Gustave to jump for joy, but he hadn't expected the reaction to be so instantly poor. It's a blow to his ego, certainly. Surely Gustave remembers what he'd said about needing a couple of days to work on his limerick, so now he's— what, unable to camouflage how much he actually dislikes Verso's poetry?

A little harsh. He smiles, although it's uncertain.

"Ouch. Is it that bad?"

[superniceone]

Gustave realizes he probably has it wrong when Verso reacts with confusion instead of contrition. "No, wait, I— maybe I should let you actually tell me what the reason is before I make assumptions."

[recreatable]

More visibly hesitant now than before, Verso unearths a small slip of paper from his pocket, carefully torn from his journal. "The, uh, limerick."

[superniceone]

"Putain de merde," Gustave whispers, abruptly embarrassed by his own reaction. He rubs his face with his hands, laughing tiredly at himself. "No, of course, sorry, I thought— it doesn't matter what I thought. Of course I want to see that, hand it over."