Miraculously un-Gommaged even at the 2,000 comment mark, Verso slides his plate over to Gustave. There's still quite a bit of egg on there. The morning's activity works up an appetite, but also, he's kind of picky and those eggs—despite being made with love—were pretty gross.
"That was me asking you on a date," he clarifies, because apparently Gustave is incapable of picking up on his oblique attempts at flirtation.
Gustave takes the plate, not sure if Verso disliked them or if he's still just in possession of a failing appetite. Regardless, he'll go to scrape the plate into the trash.
"You don't need to ask me for anything," he says lightly. "Beck and call, remember?" He had, apparently, been absolutely serious.
"I'm being serious," he scolds, because Gustave is not being serious!!! He is an important person with lots of obligations, as evidenced by the fact that he was literal hours late last night. Verso still had sex with him anyway, which probably says something about his self-respect or lack thereof. "When can I see you again?"
"So am I." Gustave gives him a slightly baffled look, moving to wash up the pan, too. "I told you — I agreed to yesterday because I'm tapping out of responsibility for the month." He shrugs one shoulder, dismissive. "The girls are way better at handling the whole... people thing. Tell me when you want me, and I'll be there."
Verso stands to hover around Gustave while he works, although he doesn't offer to help. Look, he's tired. He's accomplished more this morning than he accomplished in his whole first week back in Lumière.
"You're not going to just wait around until I want you," is another scold, because he should probably try to be, you know, slightly responsible here. You know the situation is bad when the centenarian who can't stop fucking thirty-year-olds is the voice of reason. "You have a city to reintegrate to."
Besides, he doesn't trust himself not to get greedy and want Gustave around always.
It's like, three whole dishes, he's fine without assistance. He's incapable of keeping a straight face beneath the scolding, though, and he only barely resists the urge to flick sudsy water at him.
"Verso." Even, measured. "No one else gets to set my priorities for me." And no one else is able to understand why he isn't overjoyed just to be alive.
Verso makes an disapproving little noise. Pretty sure his opinions about Gustave's priorities are objectively correct, actually! There's something unpleasant about someone shaping their life around him, even if it's only for a few weeks. Historically, that sort of thing hasn't gone well.
"Now I see where Maelle gets her stubbornness from." It wasn't from him, that's for sure!!
It only registers that he's conjured a deeply unpleasant topic after the fact, but as soon as it does, he frowns. "What happened to wanting to be productive?"
"I can't keep trying to pour from an empty cup." Gustave can tell that Verso is genuinely bothered, and he hesitates, tries to reframe it. "Look, I really just— I need some time off for once in my life. I'm not going to be waiting around on you. I'm going to be taking a break, and you're the only person I'm happy to let interrupt."
It's not like he's got a job to get back to, or an Expedition to prepare for.
He doesn't want Gustave to have regrets. The best way to avoid those would be to encourage him to reenter society, to rebuild his bonds with the people he belongs with. Otherwise, Verso is liable to get selfish and want to interrupt him all the time; he's liable to get crazier and want to stay, or equally as terrible, want to ask Gustave to come with him.
But what is he going to do, deny Gustave? He's not very good at that, clearly.
"Tell me when I'm allowed to interrupt you next, then." He refuses to have Gustave at his beck and call. Maelle might get a teeny, tiny bit of stubbornness from him after all.
"There's going to be music at the harbor tonight." Dancing, too, to celebrate in a way people haven't had cause to celebrate for decades. "We could find a roof nearby to sit and listen?"
He very much doubts that Verso will have any interest at all in actually being around the other citizens of the city. Maybe 'close enough to watch' will do.
wtf i wrote "an disapproving" please freeze the thread i'm so ashamed
No, Verso doesn't have any interest in being around the other citizens of this city. In another world, he might have—Verso is nothing if not lonely and desperate for the sort of human attachments he eschews. But there's too much wrapped up in it: guilt, resentment, guilt again. He already feels all of those things enough with the people he already knows and loves. 'Making new friends' will never work.
All the same, he says, "Or we could actually go to the harbor and participate." He will happily go and be among people and pretend he's having a good time, if it's for Gustave.
Gustave gives him a slightly funny look, turning off the water at the sink; he'd assumed there was no shot Verso would want to participate in something like that. "Esquie hasn't given me those dancing lessons yet," he deflects after a pause. "So I'd probably be in over my head."
Oh, there is no shot. But wanting to participate and being willing to participate are two very different things, and Verso is nothing if not willing to self-sacrifice. Gustave should be among his people, and he should be happy. If Verso suffering through socializing is what it takes, then—
"Luckily, I'm quite the dance teacher myself." A crooked smile, meant to be irresistibly charming. "I have many as-of-yet unknown talents."
They're going to both be on the Harbor, miserable and pretending not to be because they think it's what the other person wants. Gustave laughs softly under his breath, conceding. "Fine. Let's go for a little while, then."
Dancing in public sounds absolutely fucking horrifying, thanks. "—I think Esquie might be there, actually," he realizes.
He hopes that's true. Esquie has been the one big, fluffy constant in his life—someone he's always been able to depend on being there. Someone to go on adventures with, who always made him feel less lonely. Actually, he feels like he might be able to confide some of these feelings in Esquie, if not anyone else. It's difficult to bring Esquie down, whereas he always has to worry about making things unpleasant for anyone else.
However: "Is this your attempt at getting out of dance lessons with me?" He can't go back to Esquie now that Verso has offered!!
Gustave is fully aware of the special relationship that Esquie and Verso have; he wonders if they've spoken much at all, or if he and Monoco both are just biding their time until Verso is ready to leave.
Oh, Gustave is getting ready to leave. He feels oddly deflated at the idea. Of course, he has to go; it would be entirely self-serving to want otherwise.
All the same, he wants otherwise.
He at least doesn't say it. Feeling it is bad, but verbalizing it is worse. Instead, he trails behind Gustave like a lost dog, or perhaps a stray cat begging for a bit of food. "Lost causes are my specialty." ...Which is a little too honest, so he quickly pivots to, "We could practice now, if you like."
Gustave doesn't particularly want to leave; he'd just assumed the suggestion of walking him home, the question of when can I see you again meant that Verso wanted his home to himself for a bit. He doesn't particularly want to practice dancing, finds it awkward and himself ungainly, but— well. It feels more awkward to mention he'd let Sophie instruct and then refuse to let Verso try the same.
"In your living room?" His eyebrows are up, but he's stopped tying his shoe.
"As opposed to in front of all of your family and friends, I was thinking."
—But Gustave does not seem at all amenable to the idea, and he's beginning to wonder if it wasn't as charming as he thought. Verso lifts his hands as if surrendering, then says, "But you're probably right to wait for Esquie after all. He is the master of dance."
He's never been an extremely artsy sort of guy; the genuine offer had caught him off guard more than anything else. "I mean, it's not really them I'm worried about embarrassing myself in front of." He's not trying to bone any of them! Gustave straightens up. "But alright, then. You must be some sort of savant instructor, after all — you did teach a gestral to speak our language."
Gustave has both embarrassed himself in front of Verso and managed to bone him already, so the thought that he's worried about such a thing makes Verso laugh. It's endearing that Gustave still has these worries, like he has any need to impress Verso. Like he didn't just get told 'I'm crazy about you', and five other ways of expressing Verso's unwise levels of affection.
He's spent almost the entirety of this relationship with one foot out the door, and while he can't exactly claim to be all in now, it has to be obvious that it isn't for lack of wanting.
"And look at him now—loquacious as anyone." Owing perhaps more to Monoco's own desire to be the best than anything Verso did, but he'll take the credit.
He extends a hand, palm up, waiting for Gustave's. "And you're lucky. The girls might have made you lead, but with me you can follow."
Gustave is well aware of the fact that he'd fallen for Verso — well. Inappropriately. Inopportunely. They'd ended up together in this way that felt almost by chance; it doesn't matter how crazy Verso is admit him, he's hesitant about pushing his luck when they're already on borrowed time. Part of him still feels guilty for dragging Verso into this relationship at all, like he's selfish for asking for this emotional connection with him.
But Verso has a hand out to him now, and Gustave can't turn that down. He reaches out to lay his own onto Verso's, expression fond. "I don't mind leading, either, if you need to take it easy." In general, not just with dancing.
He doesn't get to say it's by chance after denying, like, three attempts to break up with him at this point. Bitch, that was on purpose.
Gustave's hand is warm in his, a little smaller than his, fingers a bit callused from using his tools. Verso reels him in until he can snake a hand around Gustave's waist, finger crooked in his belt loop to keep him there. You know, just in case he decides to run out the building instead of dance.
Amused: "Two seconds ago you looked like you were going to throw up at the thought of dancing. Now you're going to lead?"
Verso leading is a safe bet, just from a practical standpoint; while his dances are about six decades out of date, he's still got far more experience with them than he imagines Gustave does. Verso can picture him awkwardly bowing out every time he's been asked to dance in the past 32 years, sheepish and apologetic and completely fucking blind to the fact that the people who were asking him were interested in him.
And 'in general', well. He'll just pretend he doesn't know that Gustave is referring to anything but the dance, considering that he doesn't really know how to take it easy.
"Dancing doesn't make me ill." Gustave squeezes Verso's hand in his own like it's somehow a reprimand, like his stupid pulse hasn't racheted up with Verso's face in his own. He lays his mechanical hand on Verso's shoulder, lightly, mostly because he's not fully certain that's what he's meant to be doing with it.
He scrunches his nose, then confesses: "I was a really bright kid, and I picked up most things pretty quickly. And sometimes, when I run into something I don't pick up fast..." He trails off, not sure how to phrase 'I avoid it like the plague' without coming across as super juvenile.
He's ignoring Verso's last comment by making VERY POINTED conversation about the first.
Verso smiles at the hand on his shoulder; it feels a little strange to feel metal through the fabric of his shirt, but strange in a way that he likes. A sensation unique to being with Gustave, and no one else.
"You'd rather not do it at all than not do it perfectly?" Super juvenile, perhaps, but a shared experience all the same. He can't help but laugh, a wry sound under his breath. "Yeah. I know the feeling."
He sways faintly to a rhythm in his own mind, not quite 'dancing' as much as 'vaguely moving'. Gustave, he expects, will need to be eased into just moving his hips.
"I avoided those Gestral beach games for decades because I was bad at them," he admits, sheepish.
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"That was me asking you on a date," he clarifies, because apparently Gustave is incapable of picking up on his oblique attempts at flirtation.
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"You don't need to ask me for anything," he says lightly. "Beck and call, remember?" He had, apparently, been absolutely serious.
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"You're not going to just wait around until I want you," is another scold, because he should probably try to be, you know, slightly responsible here. You know the situation is bad when the centenarian who can't stop fucking thirty-year-olds is the voice of reason. "You have a city to reintegrate to."
Besides, he doesn't trust himself not to get greedy and want Gustave around always.
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"Verso." Even, measured. "No one else gets to set my priorities for me." And no one else is able to understand why he isn't overjoyed just to be alive.
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"Now I see where Maelle gets her stubbornness from." It wasn't from him, that's for sure!!
It only registers that he's conjured a deeply unpleasant topic after the fact, but as soon as it does, he frowns. "What happened to wanting to be productive?"
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It's not like he's got a job to get back to, or an Expedition to prepare for.
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But what is he going to do, deny Gustave? He's not very good at that, clearly.
"Tell me when I'm allowed to interrupt you next, then." He refuses to have Gustave at his beck and call. Maelle might get a teeny, tiny bit of stubbornness from him after all.
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He very much doubts that Verso will have any interest at all in actually being around the other citizens of the city. Maybe 'close enough to watch' will do.
wtf i wrote "an disapproving" please freeze the thread i'm so ashamed
All the same, he says, "Or we could actually go to the harbor and participate." He will happily go and be among people and pretend he's having a good time, if it's for Gustave.
no singing chickens for you
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"Luckily, I'm quite the dance teacher myself." A crooked smile, meant to be irresistibly charming. "I have many as-of-yet unknown talents."
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Dancing in public sounds absolutely fucking horrifying, thanks. "—I think Esquie might be there, actually," he realizes.
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However: "Is this your attempt at getting out of dance lessons with me?" He can't go back to Esquie now that Verso has offered!!
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He scoffs, idly going to retrieve his shoes. "Sciel and Sophie both did their best with me. I'm afraid I'm a lost cause, mon chéri."
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All the same, he wants otherwise.
He at least doesn't say it. Feeling it is bad, but verbalizing it is worse. Instead, he trails behind Gustave like a lost dog, or perhaps a stray cat begging for a bit of food. "Lost causes are my specialty." ...Which is a little too honest, so he quickly pivots to, "We could practice now, if you like."
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"In your living room?" His eyebrows are up, but he's stopped tying his shoe.
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—But Gustave does not seem at all amenable to the idea, and he's beginning to wonder if it wasn't as charming as he thought. Verso lifts his hands as if surrendering, then says, "But you're probably right to wait for Esquie after all. He is the master of dance."
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He's spent almost the entirety of this relationship with one foot out the door, and while he can't exactly claim to be all in now, it has to be obvious that it isn't for lack of wanting.
"And look at him now—loquacious as anyone." Owing perhaps more to Monoco's own desire to be the best than anything Verso did, but he'll take the credit.
He extends a hand, palm up, waiting for Gustave's. "And you're lucky. The girls might have made you lead, but with me you can follow."
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But Verso has a hand out to him now, and Gustave can't turn that down. He reaches out to lay his own onto Verso's, expression fond. "I don't mind leading, either, if you need to take it easy." In general, not just with dancing.
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Gustave's hand is warm in his, a little smaller than his, fingers a bit callused from using his tools. Verso reels him in until he can snake a hand around Gustave's waist, finger crooked in his belt loop to keep him there. You know, just in case he decides to run out the building instead of dance.
Amused: "Two seconds ago you looked like you were going to throw up at the thought of dancing. Now you're going to lead?"
Verso leading is a safe bet, just from a practical standpoint; while his dances are about six decades out of date, he's still got far more experience with them than he imagines Gustave does. Verso can picture him awkwardly bowing out every time he's been asked to dance in the past 32 years, sheepish and apologetic and completely fucking blind to the fact that the people who were asking him were interested in him.
And 'in general', well. He'll just pretend he doesn't know that Gustave is referring to anything but the dance, considering that he doesn't really know how to take it easy.
"It's okay, I'll lead." A pause. "Good thing you're already limbered up."
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He scrunches his nose, then confesses: "I was a really bright kid, and I picked up most things pretty quickly. And sometimes, when I run into something I don't pick up fast..." He trails off, not sure how to phrase 'I avoid it like the plague' without coming across as super juvenile.
He's ignoring Verso's last comment by making VERY POINTED conversation about the first.
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"You'd rather not do it at all than not do it perfectly?" Super juvenile, perhaps, but a shared experience all the same. He can't help but laugh, a wry sound under his breath. "Yeah. I know the feeling."
He sways faintly to a rhythm in his own mind, not quite 'dancing' as much as 'vaguely moving'. Gustave, he expects, will need to be eased into just moving his hips.
"I avoided those Gestral beach games for decades because I was bad at them," he admits, sheepish.
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stubborn a weapon
😤😤😤😤
in my tl;dr era
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fucking swype, the enemy of me who doesn't read my own tags
how dare you catch it so i can't immortalize it
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seven gustaves, ah ah ah
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write it cœur with the ligature like a real frenchie or get out of here
you literally cannot make me
only bc i lack the power to freeze the thread 😔
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i don't like that while i wrote this you dmed me "speaking of gay incest"
😎
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"you're irreparable invalid markup"
no babe YOU'RE irreparable invalid markup
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the default iconing will continue until morale improves
im on so many drugs im just glad I'm on the right account?!
honored to receive the codeine tags
won't be offended if you ghost me until recovery is over tbh ...
no i welcome the codeine tags with open arms
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