[Sometimes there's no-one in the city he hates more. Sometimes the things you say make him angrier than he's ever felt. But at the same time, there's no person in the city he feels more natural around. It's a frustrating balance.]
...Hah. [He finishes off the end of his sandwich, washing it down with a mouthful of almost gritty, sugary coffee.] Well on our way to doing all three of those.
[He shifts where he's sitting, locking a piercing, emerald gaze up at the other man. An expression that would be mostly unreadable for near anyone else. For the Samurai, he's almost certain he knows what it means.
I really hate you sometimes.]
Still here, aren't we.
[There's an almost bitter tone in his voice, as if he's challenging the other. 'Shifting through the wreckage,' there was a lot of truth in that, sure. But he'd stubbornly stayed. Despite being chased off, numerous times. Here they were.
[It was hard to miss, a flicker of something in the others' eyes. He saw it in Lucina's eyes often enough. Someone touched by the power of Naga. Someone trying to access something.
Memories only Gaius could remember.
He moves a knee up, resting an elbow against it, his chin rested against an open palm. A relaxed pose, one that wordlessly says I'm not using the fucking door.
The lack of retort was a surprise, to be honest. He expected there to be some harsh words thrown, then a few fists. But instead, the tension in the air dissipated, like a window being opened to clear out smoke.]
You should go with me sometime, yanno. [Time for a subject change.]
[the slower and more patient eater, this is when he finishes up, wrapping trash together and stuffing it in a bag as decisively as he wanted rid of this baggage to]
[(he can't let go, he can't see past it, he can't get over it, why the fuck is he still here--)]
[looks up abruptly, eye shaded by heavy bangs, backtracking over their conversation]
[He's still here because he can't let go. Funnily enough, he was capable of burning every bridge he had, but this one, he'd refused to let any fire claim it.
Odd, that.]
On a job. You're clever enough, I doubt you'd muck it up.
Hah? [BLINKS, head drawn back for a moment of open surprise -- and then consideration]
Sneak into people's homes and steal their belongings? Why the hell would I...
[to see what this man does? to feel what he feels? to observe him in his best lighting, doing what he's skilled at? ...maybe there's more to think on it than his knee-jerk reaction says]
'You'd get bored doing just one thing'. Thought you'd appreciate something new. [And perhaps because he did want a moment to show the other what it was he did, something no other person had ever observed, save for perhaps Chrom or his son, Gerome.]
If it ain't up yer alley, then fine. Offer's there.
... [has to concede it's an equally good point, turning his head away for fingers to touch at his hairline contemplatively; it smells too much like what could be a missed opportunity for him to pass so easily]
[but...]
I'll think about it. [eyes scour the other man's presence -- armor, leather, cloak, candy -- and his lips form a tight seal, frown etching his features]
[just how close does he want to let him]
Whether or not I'm capable of not 'mucking it up' seems irrelevant. You trust me?
[He shrugs his shoulder, moving to pull his satchel of items closer, digging around in it quietly for something sweet now that his sandwich was gone.
He was comfortable here. Even if Takasugi remained conflicted about this for the rest of his life, this was the most he could ask for. He'd already broken his trust once. Part of him crowed about how he didn't deserve to be even this close.
And yet...]
More than I trust anyone else. [An answer that isn't a direct 'yes', he barely gave those to anyone about things like this. But it's an answer that's heavier than any other simple answer he could give anyone else.]
I can't say that's particularly wise. [as he's proven time and time again, with memory and without it -- they both have, haven't they?]
[sifting through the wreckage, it's really all they're doing. what to do with smoking rubble, what to salvage and what to discard, which (and whose) scars carry the most weight and where to sink in a new hook, a new anchor, a new wound]
[is this the kind of man he is? it feels like desperation, and it's so familiar, and he hates it]
Maybe I'll get you arrested again just for the fun of it. [an attempt at levity]
Thieves aren't well known for their wisdom. Just their instinct. ['Don't think--feel' and all that nonsense. Maybe it wasn't always the right answer, but it wasn't as if he were good at anything else.
He pulls a red and blue striped candy stick out of his back, the plastic crinkling a little as he flips it around in his hands. He was used to shifting through rubble, finding something worthwhile in the dirt, in what was broken or tarnished. Maybe in a way, this sort of relationship was desperate.
But that didn't mean he was inclined to do the 'smart' thing and let go.]
If you get me arrested, you'll go to jail right alongside me. I've sweet-talked far smarter people.
[wonders if it was 'instinct' that led him to make the mistakes he's made in the past, instinct and feelings that guided him to -- ]
[...]
[well, it's not hard for him to get lost to passions and maybe in that understanding there's a pathway paved to forgiveness, to regained trust... ah, only maybe. he gives the comments the only thing he knows: practiced silence]
Wouldn't be the first time. Jail's always better with a partner.
[A question he probably won't answer were it to be posed to him. Instinct did him plenty good. But he wouldn't lay blame to it, either. He's not quite so cowardly.]
Can't say I've ever experienced it. But at least the company'd be nicer.
[takes a long moment to consider the table between them, the danger all the edges of Gaius's armor pose to the tatami mats (but not his skin), the easy possibility of a tipped-over tea set]
[and then makes the decision to care about none of them, an abrupt tackle with hands landing on his shoulders to push him right onto the ground, claiming a seat across his midriff]
[And here he'd expected a similar retaliation, perhaps a smack over the head with Takasugi's sandwich wrapper. But instead, nay, he finds himself on his back, with the other hovering over him.
Th air knocked from his lungs as he re-orients himself from the tackle, Hands immediately moving to find the areas where he's hidden his knives.]
[his smirk alludes to the playfulness of it all, fingers digging under a cloak and finding the softest part of his throat, applying just enough pressure to be uncomfortable, leaning down without fear of what silver or red gold those hands might find]
[And it's only that smirk that makes his hands still at his sides, looking up at him with a blank expression for a moment. The pressure enough to nearly take him seriously, but.
Soon, a smirk will move up his face as well.]
Never been real good at apologies, mate. A bit of trouble pronouncing the word proper.
I'll allow you to use whatever language you might see fit, you know. [would understand them in plenty now, after all, and his hand moves from throat up to grip that pointed chin, dig into cheeks and force lips to pucker downright stupidly]
[look at this fish face.]
[SQUISHES A FEW TIMES, making lips plump and flatten and plump and flatten -- ]
[Is this seriously happening. Takasugi's hands doing some real nonsense with his face, it isn't long before Gaius is grabbing at his hands to keep him from said nonsense.]
Murghg--hfgbfbrugh-- [HAND OFF--] stOP. Dear Naga alive, I can't use any language if you mash up my bloody face like that.
[the husky laugh those garbled sounds and that reaction gain is surprisingly warm, mostly unbridled, rocking back on his heels when his hands are captured]
I think I actually prefer it that way; let's keep going. [LUNGES FOR AGAIN]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But at the same time, there's no person in the city he feels more natural around. It's a frustrating balance.]
...Hah. [He finishes off the end of his sandwich, washing it down with a mouthful of almost gritty, sugary coffee.] Well on our way to doing all three of those.
...
's better here than home, at least.
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[the wounded animal who's shed every bond he knows wants to sew his mouth shut forever]
[both sides want to watch him bleed]
'On our way'? More like sifting through the wreckage.
['better than home'... tch, he'd rather be in Kyoto]
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I really hate you sometimes.]
Still here, aren't we.
[There's an almost bitter tone in his voice, as if he's challenging the other. 'Shifting through the wreckage,' there was a lot of truth in that, sure. But he'd stubbornly stayed. Despite being chased off, numerous times. Here they were.
Like a bad habit.]
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[he weighs his words heavily: if you're unsatisfied, the door's right there]
[thanks for that]
[he was the one who called him over]
Guess so.
[that's it. no sharp retort, no threat of violence.]
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Memories only Gaius could remember.
He moves a knee up, resting an elbow against it, his chin rested against an open palm. A relaxed pose, one that wordlessly says I'm not using the fucking door.
The lack of retort was a surprise, to be honest. He expected there to be some harsh words thrown, then a few fists. But instead, the tension in the air dissipated, like a window being opened to clear out smoke.]
You should go with me sometime, yanno. [Time for a subject change.]
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[(he can't let go, he can't see past it, he can't get over it, why the fuck is he still here--)]
[looks up abruptly, eye shaded by heavy bangs, backtracking over their conversation]
Yeah, where's that? [home? on a job?]
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Odd, that.]
On a job. You're clever enough, I doubt you'd muck it up.
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Sneak into people's homes and steal their belongings? Why the hell would I...
[to see what this man does? to feel what he feels? to observe him in his best lighting, doing what he's skilled at? ...maybe there's more to think on it than his knee-jerk reaction says]
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'You'd get bored doing just one thing'. Thought you'd appreciate something new. [And perhaps because he did want a moment to show the other what it was he did, something no other person had ever observed, save for perhaps Chrom or his son, Gerome.]
If it ain't up yer alley, then fine. Offer's there.
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[but...]
I'll think about it. [eyes scour the other man's presence -- armor, leather, cloak, candy -- and his lips form a tight seal, frown etching his features]
[just how close does he want to let him]
Whether or not I'm capable of not 'mucking it up' seems irrelevant. You trust me?
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He was comfortable here. Even if Takasugi remained conflicted about this for the rest of his life, this was the most he could ask for. He'd already broken his trust once. Part of him crowed about how he didn't deserve to be even this close.
And yet...]
More than I trust anyone else. [An answer that isn't a direct 'yes', he barely gave those to anyone about things like this. But it's an answer that's heavier than any other simple answer he could give anyone else.]
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[sifting through the wreckage, it's really all they're doing. what to do with smoking rubble, what to salvage and what to discard, which (and whose) scars carry the most weight and where to sink in a new hook, a new anchor, a new wound]
[is this the kind of man he is? it feels like desperation, and it's so familiar, and he hates it]
Maybe I'll get you arrested again just for the fun of it. [an attempt at levity]
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He pulls a red and blue striped candy stick out of his back, the plastic crinkling a little as he flips it around in his hands. He was used to shifting through rubble, finding something worthwhile in the dirt, in what was broken or tarnished. Maybe in a way, this sort of relationship was desperate.
But that didn't mean he was inclined to do the 'smart' thing and let go.]
If you get me arrested, you'll go to jail right alongside me. I've sweet-talked far smarter people.
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[wonders if it was 'instinct' that led him to make the mistakes he's made in the past, instinct and feelings that guided him to -- ]
[...]
[well, it's not hard for him to get lost to passions and maybe in that understanding there's a pathway paved to forgiveness, to regained trust... ah, only maybe. he gives the comments the only thing he knows: practiced silence]
Wouldn't be the first time. Jail's always better with a partner.
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Can't say I've ever experienced it. But at least the company'd be nicer.
Rats aren't the best conversational partners.
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[jiiiiiiii...]
Yeah, I see what you mean.
[you. you are the rat.]
1/2
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[takes a long moment to consider the table between them, the danger all the edges of Gaius's armor pose to the tatami mats (but not his skin), the easy possibility of a tipped-over tea set]
[and then makes the decision to care about none of them, an abrupt tackle with hands landing on his shoulders to push him right onto the ground, claiming a seat across his midriff]
Apologize.
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Th air knocked from his lungs as he re-orients himself from the tackle, Hands immediately moving to find the areas where he's hidden his knives.]
--Over a bit of rubbish, really.
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[his smirk alludes to the playfulness of it all, fingers digging under a cloak and finding the softest part of his throat, applying just enough pressure to be uncomfortable, leaning down without fear of what silver or red gold those hands might find]
Say you're sorry.
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Soon, a smirk will move up his face as well.]
Never been real good at apologies, mate. A bit of trouble pronouncing the word proper.
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[look at this fish face.]
[SQUISHES A FEW TIMES, making lips plump and flatten and plump and flatten -- ]
Sorry, ごめんなさい, 對不起, lo siento, take your pick.
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Murghg--hfgbfbrugh-- [HAND OFF--] stOP. Dear Naga alive, I can't use any language if you mash up my bloody face like that.
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I think I actually prefer it that way; let's keep going. [LUNGES FOR AGAIN]
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I DO NOT HAVE A PROPER ICON FOR THIS NONSENSE
I BARELY HAD ENOUGH SMIRKING ICONS
i love that face lmfao
that scene is sO GOOD
the perfect amount of sour sulk-face
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