superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

If pressed, Gustave wouldn't be able to explain, exactly, just what had him rankled. Objectively, he's not ashamed; he knows that Verso was as enthusiastically willing as he was, and seemed to enjoy himself just as much.

Maybe he just didn't want to admit his own loneliness to himself, or maybe it just felt like weakness, admitting he was still beholden to such extremely base desires when they were marching toward the Paintress.

Or maybe it just felt guilty in the way any boy would, hooking up in potential hearing range of the rest of his family.

"Think so. Or it could just be the hangover, I reckon." He flexes his hand, busies himself by stretching his wrist, before he adds more quietly: "I'm fine."

"Okay," is all he has to say for a moment, because he's not sure how he's actually supposed to take that. A quiet little I'm fine like he maybe isn't totally. Verso probably should've tried harder to turn him down. "I'm fine, too." Not that anyone asked.

Feel like doing some more community service later? probably isn't going to fly, so instead he says, "Good talk. I've got to go... trim Monoco's fur."

Not really, although maybe he should. It's looking unruly.

"No, wait." It comes with a grimace, one that's fully at himself, not at Verso. "I realise I'm not doing a great job of it, but I'm trying to act casual."

He clears his throat, tries again. "I am actually. Great. As well. Since you were asking."

Gustave admits that he's trying to be casual, and Verso tries to suppress a look of horror. This is the least casual anyone has ever been, ever. A moment of silent realization passes, and then he takes the burden on himself to make this casual.

"Great." Aggressively not awkward despite his feelings to the contrary; he injects as much dry humor into the word as he can manage. Then, with a hand over his heart: "It, uh, feels good to service the community."

Gustave fixes him with a slightly bewildered look at the phrasing, before his own look of utter horror arrives. He swears under his breath and groans, pressing his closed eyelids hard with the pads of his thumb and index finger.

How had that worked? How had he gotten laid, literally ever?

"I said that, didn't I." His voice is miserable; his shoulders are trembling with barely-suppressed laughter. "I used those words."

This feels better. For one of them, at least — maybe not Gustave. But it feels as if perhaps some of the tension is broken, and now it can be, as he'd said, casual.

"It's possible." He smiles, a menace. "Hard to remember. Think I was discombobulated after all the... impolite things."

He shakes his head from side to side, trying to be subtle about checking to see how easily they might be overheard. "I gave you ample opportunity to go find company with someone who- who can have a normal conversation," he says, but the defensiveness is still amused.

"Yeah," he agrees.

If Gustave hasn't figured out by now that he only pulls on those metaphorical pigtails because the awkwardness is strangely charming, he never will. It's very earnest, very real, qualities Verso isn't particularly familiar with himself. It's a nice change of pace.

"Normal conversation is overrated."

Gustave doesn't ascribe any malice to it, but he mostly just assumes that it's because he makes the easiest target. (It's easier to recognise it as good-natured after the night before. Verso could be glib, sure, but he was undeniably careful with Gustave when he didn't have to be.)

"Suppose 'normal' gets harder and harder to define these days." He actually looks at him then, the strange anxiety almost entirely gone now. "I- really, though. You're alright?"

That really makes him laugh. "Traumatized, remember?" The question is light, amused. He's in no way damaged by a casual handjob from possibly the world's most non-threatening person. It was casual. It's still casual, even if Gustave seems incapable of acting so.

"...I wouldn't mind doing some more community service," he adds, broaching, "for the right cause."

Maybe just the continent's least threatening person. He's way scarier than at least most of the children back in Lumiere. The statement gives him pause then, like he's briefly unsure if he's being made fun of, before he clears his throat and straightens his posture unconsciously.

"It's good of you to give back," he says finally, eyebrows up, and then adds - a little pitiful: "But we might have to think of a more believable excuse."

It's not a no, so he'll take it. But: "I thought I could tell them whatever I wanted." It's only teasing, though; Gustave had looked like he had just lost a fight, but Verso doesn't particularly want to repeat that excuse. They're going to think he's beating up on Gustave every chance he gets.

Not that he's trying to do this every chance he gets. Just, you know. It's a good way to pass the time. Almost makes one forget about his bucket loads of existential grief for a second.

"Tell them whatever you want."

Gustave chews on that for a moment, though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled about the conclusion he comes to. "We should be honest if we're going to- do that sort of thing," he says, stumbling around real description a bit. If only for practical reasons; sneaking off alone could get dangerous, and quickly. (Who knows when Renoir is going to just appear again, after all.)

He tilts his head slightly at Verso, brow furrowed in thought. "... I want to say something else, too, but I'm not yet sure if it'd be relevant or just slightly offensive."

Verso doesn't really believe 'being honest' about the fact that they're sticking their hands down each other's pants is the right idea, but he rarely thinks being honest about anything is. It's no skin off his back, but it does sort of put a damper on any relationship Gustave might try to pursue. Makes it all a little weird and complicated.

But, again, that's not his problem, so he lets it pass by, placing his hands on his hips as he stares warily. "Oh, good. I love irrelevant, offensive things."

Gustave isn't proposing that they go into detail - he's not sure his heart could take it - but Lune and Sciel are smart. They'd understand with a little implication.

But, funnily enough, his thoughts aren't too far from Verso's. "If you've got your hopes set on fraternization with anyone else, this might kill your chances. Worth having a think about, at least."

They should probably stop calling it fraternization, but he can't exactly think of something better that won't make Gustave turn as red as a tomato, so—

"What, you aren't going to talk me up?" A joke. He's pretty sure Gustave would rather die.

He inhales, holds it for a second. Any of them, Verso aside, could die at any moment with very little fanfare. He has to relax.

"With only a single encounter to go on? What kind of scientist do you take me for?" Gustave exhales hard, a puff of air through his nose. "Could have been a fluke."

"Mm," he concedes, although he's arrogant enough to think that it wasn't a fluke. The self-loathing extends pretty far, but it doesn't extend to what he can do with his hands. They're pretty nimble. Piano and all. "You should definitely do more experiments."

"Okay." Gustave tilts his head slightly at Verso, before he laughs again. It's a quieter, much more relaxed laugh than the ones before. "We can discuss it tonight."

Verso isn't certain whether this is an actual discussion or whether it's another euphemism, but he goes along with it regardless. He's just glad that their conversation has turned around from being painfully awkward to just being sort of awkward; it's not like they had a deep friendship to ruin, but it would be unfortunate if they had to tiptoe around each other for the rest of the journey because of one ill-advised, drunken encounter. He has to tiptoe around all of them for a different reason, but that's a non-negotiable.

"All right." He pats Gustave on the shoulder affably, as if this conversation had only been about the temperate weather as of late. "I guess I'll talk to you then."

Gustave isn't sure how he was expecting this inevitable conversation to go, except maybe 'worse than this.' It's not nothing, and it's a relief.

"Hey," he says, staying him for just a moment. "How long until our next point of interest, do you think?" It's a very bland, benign way of asking 'how long until we have to be extra afraid for our lives instead of the general a little bit afraid.'

Right. Points of interest. Verso sobers.

"If we're lucky, we'll get to Old Lumiere at sundown." He crosses his arms. "...And if we're unlucky, we'll get to Old Lumiere at sundown." Not exactly the sort of place you want to be milling about at night, is the implication.

"Noted." On a very shallow level, it's true that he's looking forward to seeing the ruins of the city. On a practical one, he's full of dread, and he pushes himself back to his feet. "Best to get back on the road, then."

Gustave is not their leader; they do not have a leader, officially. It's probably also true that no one could be blamed for thinking otherwise. He gives Verso a tight smile, interpersonal anxiety having briefly evaporated, and goes to do a quick round of checking in with the rest of the Expedition.

They make it to Old Lumiere slightly before sundown, actually, which is good. That means that they actually enter it, though, tonight, which is—

Well, it probably depends on who you ask. As for Verso, the truth of his relation to Renoir comes out (bad), Aline—at least, a facsimile of Aline—opens the manor door for Maelle (good), and Renoir ruins everything (bad, and predictable, and still frustrating all the same) before the manor disappears, taking with it their chance of taking the Paintress out in any sort of relative safety. Verso lives another day, so it's a net loss.

Obviously, there's some upset about everything. Even after they restore some (delusional, he thinks) hope with their (far-fetched, he thinks) plan to take on the axons, Lune still looks like she might kill him for withholding what she considers to be valuable information.

'Community service' is obviously off the table, possibly (and probably) forever, and it's not particularly on his mind anymore, regardless. He goes back and forth with himself on whether to even talk to Gustave at all; finally, as the others wind down, he approaches with a pen—blue—in hand. "Lots to write in that notebook of yours."

It's a lot for one day. From an outside point of view, Gustave thinks it might almost be impressive, how fully and totally everything had gone to shit around them. He's silent for most of the discussion about the Axons. Lune recognizes the look, not wholly unlike the distant place he'd checked out to after the beach, and snaps him out of it with none of the patience that she might have in less overwhelming situations.

Gustave startles when Verso approaches, clearly somewhere else entirely until right then. "Yes," he says neutrally, but doesn't immediately acknowledge the pen. Instead, he's watching Verso's face closely, his own expression shuttered. "Tell me that I can trust you around Maelle." His voice is quiet, intense - dangerous, almost. "I need to hear you say the words."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject