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[And there's a part of him that wants to threaten Figaro with sex, say that if he wins their little whatever-this-is, he'd demand sex, but...Figaro's right, damn him, damn them both, he can't use their game as leverage for sex. Right? He's got standards. He can't just pin Figaro to a wall and ravish him. That would just make things uncomfortable for the both of them.
So, Gepard just makes a face and lets it pass. It's fine.
But, then, Figaro chides him. Don't be like that, he says. It's not rigged, he says. Gepard makes even more of a face at him. Not an angry face? Not mad. Just a little sour. Like he was forced to swallow something somewhat tart, like a lemon.]
I'm not saying I don't think I can win. [...maybe. The trickiest thing would be trying to throw Pela off of the scent as to why he's asking about dark-haired thieves with a strange appetite. He'll have to think of something.]
What I'm saying is that I'm not afraid of any of your favors. [...probably.] In fact, living up to my side of the bargain might be... [Yeah, he'll admit it.] ...fun? Only if I lose, of course.
So, Gepard just makes a face and lets it pass. It's fine.
But, then, Figaro chides him. Don't be like that, he says. It's not rigged, he says. Gepard makes even more of a face at him. Not an angry face? Not mad. Just a little sour. Like he was forced to swallow something somewhat tart, like a lemon.]
I'm not saying I don't think I can win. [...maybe. The trickiest thing would be trying to throw Pela off of the scent as to why he's asking about dark-haired thieves with a strange appetite. He'll have to think of something.]
What I'm saying is that I'm not afraid of any of your favors. [...probably.] In fact, living up to my side of the bargain might be... [Yeah, he'll admit it.] ...fun? Only if I lose, of course.
[Uncomfortable! Sampo would be anything but uncomfortable if Gepard outright stated that he’d cash in his favor for sex. Saying it out loud would clear up several different misconceptions all in one fell swoop, which is, of course, why that wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t be a slow burn if the leads hooked up too soon and too easily.]
[Sampo will have to think of what he’d want from the good Captain for his victory prize, too. Money? The key to the vault in Qlipoth Fort? A priceless relic from the Museum? A kiss, if he was feeling cheeky about the whole thing. He’d expect one on the hand, like how a gentleman would. Maybe the cheek.]
That’s the spirit! It’s just a friendly game with your pal. We’re just having fun!
[It’s all fun and games, nothing to worry about.]
I’m glad that the Captain has such an easygoing outlook on losing. I thought you might be more competitive.
Anyway! You should eat up so that we can get those plants for you and get them all settled in.
[Sampo will have to think of what he’d want from the good Captain for his victory prize, too. Money? The key to the vault in Qlipoth Fort? A priceless relic from the Museum? A kiss, if he was feeling cheeky about the whole thing. He’d expect one on the hand, like how a gentleman would. Maybe the cheek.]
That’s the spirit! It’s just a friendly game with your pal. We’re just having fun!
[It’s all fun and games, nothing to worry about.]
I’m glad that the Captain has such an easygoing outlook on losing. I thought you might be more competitive.
Anyway! You should eat up so that we can get those plants for you and get them all settled in.
[His eyes narrow, and Gepard thinks two very dangerous thoughts in a row: what might Figaro ask for if he wins, and, if it's fun enough, what would he have to do to convince Figaro into a second round? Then again, it's just as likely that Figaro would ask for money or treasure. Or blood, straight from the hospital.]
You're right. [He should absolutely wolf down the food, and Gepard turns his attention to doing just that- well, he tries to, there's a few moments in which he has to close his eyes and savor the taste, or look up at Figaro - blue eyes wide and astonished-]
This is really good? [And also-] Where did you get this...?
[As if he should be surprised at this point, and times in which he's caught up in-
...well, anyway. Gepard finishes his plate and winces, as he remembers the plates from the night before-] I'm really sorry about not cleaning up and leaving that for you...
You're right. [He should absolutely wolf down the food, and Gepard turns his attention to doing just that- well, he tries to, there's a few moments in which he has to close his eyes and savor the taste, or look up at Figaro - blue eyes wide and astonished-]
This is really good? [And also-] Where did you get this...?
[As if he should be surprised at this point, and times in which he's caught up in-
...well, anyway. Gepard finishes his plate and winces, as he remembers the plates from the night before-] I'm really sorry about not cleaning up and leaving that for you...
[Gepard really did reveal his whole hand that night in the shack— he’s sweet, his body warm where they’re pressed together, and he wants Sampo to stay. Gepard ought to be sending him off the moment that he’s done with him, getting rid of him so that no one would find out that he was ever there. To preserve his good reputation as an upstanding and incorruptible man.]
[And Sampo shouldn’t want to stay, either. He’s a busy man with all sorts of deals to make and business to conduct, and he can’t do that if he’s attached at the hip to a guard captain. If he was really smart, he would be using this whole situation to blackmail Gepard into doing what he wants. There’s a good likelihood that even if Sampo did reveal that he’s the one who compromised Gepard, there would be enough pressure from both the government and Gepard’s father to hush up the whole sordid affair that it wouldn’t be made public. Gepard ruined, Sampo’s reputation still largely intact.]
[But he doesn’t want to burn this for a little blackmail. He should, but…]
I shouldn’t stay, someone might come looking for you. And we wouldn’t want that.
[Ah, hell with it. He kisses Gepard again, because he’s there.]
Help me get dressed, won’t you?
[And Sampo shouldn’t want to stay, either. He’s a busy man with all sorts of deals to make and business to conduct, and he can’t do that if he’s attached at the hip to a guard captain. If he was really smart, he would be using this whole situation to blackmail Gepard into doing what he wants. There’s a good likelihood that even if Sampo did reveal that he’s the one who compromised Gepard, there would be enough pressure from both the government and Gepard’s father to hush up the whole sordid affair that it wouldn’t be made public. Gepard ruined, Sampo’s reputation still largely intact.]
[But he doesn’t want to burn this for a little blackmail. He should, but…]
I shouldn’t stay, someone might come looking for you. And we wouldn’t want that.
[Ah, hell with it. He kisses Gepard again, because he’s there.]
Help me get dressed, won’t you?
[Maybe he'll ask for money. Maybe he'll ask for blood. Maybe he'll ask for sex. Who knows! That's part of the fun of it-- not knowing what the other person will ask for if they win. And isn't it telling about yourself what you hope they'll ask for?]
[But as far as things that are happening right now goes, Gepard seems to be enjoying his breakfast quite a lot, especially because it isn't anything all that special.]
The bread? [It's a nice, crunchy sourdough that goes well with the eggs and bacon. The eggs and bacon themselves are just standard Belobog fare.] There's a bakery that isn't too far from my apartment. They make some nice bread in the morning... or, well, I assume it's nice.
[Because he can't taste it. Sampo really misses carbs.]
Oh, it's fine. Gave me something to do. And I don't really do that kind of thing much anymore, so it's, like, kind of a novelty?
[A guy doesn't really have to do dishes when all of his meals either come out of someone's neck or from a blood bag. So doing dishes is sort of a brief trip into normalcy, which is kind of nice when your life has taken a hard left turn into a vampire novel.]
But don't expect me to be so nice all of the time! If I keep having to do your chores, it'll cost you.
[But as far as things that are happening right now goes, Gepard seems to be enjoying his breakfast quite a lot, especially because it isn't anything all that special.]
The bread? [It's a nice, crunchy sourdough that goes well with the eggs and bacon. The eggs and bacon themselves are just standard Belobog fare.] There's a bakery that isn't too far from my apartment. They make some nice bread in the morning... or, well, I assume it's nice.
[Because he can't taste it. Sampo really misses carbs.]
Oh, it's fine. Gave me something to do. And I don't really do that kind of thing much anymore, so it's, like, kind of a novelty?
[A guy doesn't really have to do dishes when all of his meals either come out of someone's neck or from a blood bag. So doing dishes is sort of a brief trip into normalcy, which is kind of nice when your life has taken a hard left turn into a vampire novel.]
But don't expect me to be so nice all of the time! If I keep having to do your chores, it'll cost you.
[The bread is nice and crunchy. The sourdough has a rich flavor which pairs well with the eggs and bacon - nothing special, but also special in that someone made it for him. Gepard has to remind himself that he's just paying for it in blood instead of shield, but it's still a transaction.
(He still feels special.)
Gepard can laugh as Figaro brings up a cost, though. A cost would make things feel more...normal. A cost would tilt them back towards- friendly acquaintances, maybe friends at some point, some day, better not overthink it. Gepard can smile, because he's not a businessman, he's a guard, but he understands transactions and deals. This is just another deal. That's all. A deal with a mysterious man with a nice smile and green eyes, who challenged him to figure out his name, and Gepard needs to figure out if he wants to win or take his chances with a loss.
But he can do that later, when he's on the front lines, with nothing better to think about.]
I'll try not to end up too far into your debt, I promise. [He can at least gather the dishes. And leave them in the sink. He'll wash them later. There's no problems here- oh.]
There won't be any problems with people recognizing you, will there? Our games aside, it would be...complicated if someone recognizes you as a mugger or a thief, to say the least.
(He still feels special.)
Gepard can laugh as Figaro brings up a cost, though. A cost would make things feel more...normal. A cost would tilt them back towards- friendly acquaintances, maybe friends at some point, some day, better not overthink it. Gepard can smile, because he's not a businessman, he's a guard, but he understands transactions and deals. This is just another deal. That's all. A deal with a mysterious man with a nice smile and green eyes, who challenged him to figure out his name, and Gepard needs to figure out if he wants to win or take his chances with a loss.
But he can do that later, when he's on the front lines, with nothing better to think about.]
I'll try not to end up too far into your debt, I promise. [He can at least gather the dishes. And leave them in the sink. He'll wash them later. There's no problems here- oh.]
There won't be any problems with people recognizing you, will there? Our games aside, it would be...complicated if someone recognizes you as a mugger or a thief, to say the least.
[Gepard finishes up his breakfast and puts his dishes in the sink like a good boy, presumably for him to wash later. Or for Sampo to end up washing later, but things would really have to deteriorate before he gets his hands back into soapy dishwater for this man again.]
[There's the question of his identity, and Sampo just laughs him off and hooks an arm through Gepard's, guiding him towards the door.]
Don't worry about it! I'm usually in disguise when I'm up here on the surface for business, and you're the only one who's seen my face when I've gone out... looking for dinner, let's say.
[His condition necessitates some precautions when it comes to his business dealings. There are plenty of money-making opportunities that he's had to pass on or approach in a much more cautious manner than he might have if he didn't have such a big secret to keep. He wants as little heat as possible on the Sampo Koski name, wants to avoid interactions with the Silvermane guard as much as he can. So-- different disguises, different aliases, faces and names that can be easily discarded if anyone starts getting suspicious.]
I think we'll be fine for a little shopping trip!
[Really, it's risky that Gepard knows his real face, even if he doesn't know his real name. But that cat's already out of the bag, there's no putting it back in again.]
[There's the question of his identity, and Sampo just laughs him off and hooks an arm through Gepard's, guiding him towards the door.]
Don't worry about it! I'm usually in disguise when I'm up here on the surface for business, and you're the only one who's seen my face when I've gone out... looking for dinner, let's say.
[His condition necessitates some precautions when it comes to his business dealings. There are plenty of money-making opportunities that he's had to pass on or approach in a much more cautious manner than he might have if he didn't have such a big secret to keep. He wants as little heat as possible on the Sampo Koski name, wants to avoid interactions with the Silvermane guard as much as he can. So-- different disguises, different aliases, faces and names that can be easily discarded if anyone starts getting suspicious.]
I think we'll be fine for a little shopping trip!
[Really, it's risky that Gepard knows his real face, even if he doesn't know his real name. But that cat's already out of the bag, there's no putting it back in again.]
[The kiss? It makes him smile. By all the Aeons, there shouldn't be anything sweet between them in whatever-this-is, but it feels sweet, and Gepard? Gepard's content to lean into what sweetness there is, and also to not read into it too much. He likes it, it won't get in the way of his duty (or Sampo's criminal activities, unfortunately), it's fine.]
I still haven't repaid you. [As in, haul Sampo into an interrogation room, have sex? Which also feels like something he shouldn't be mentioning after having a sweet kiss with his Complication, while looking for his Complication's clothes...there's Sampo's underwear. Gepard passes it over. And he should take care of himself as well, because one of his soldiers finding him nude wouldn't exactly be a good thing, either...
Socks. Sampo's socks- here. And now for his own underwear and also tossing that condom into the trashcan. Will that be a problem later? Considerations for later. Maybe he can just toss in enough that people won't notice one used condom among a sea of documents, or- he's a tactician, he can handle it.] But I haven't forgotten. I promise.
I still haven't repaid you. [As in, haul Sampo into an interrogation room, have sex? Which also feels like something he shouldn't be mentioning after having a sweet kiss with his Complication, while looking for his Complication's clothes...there's Sampo's underwear. Gepard passes it over. And he should take care of himself as well, because one of his soldiers finding him nude wouldn't exactly be a good thing, either...
Socks. Sampo's socks- here. And now for his own underwear and also tossing that condom into the trashcan. Will that be a problem later? Considerations for later. Maybe he can just toss in enough that people won't notice one used condom among a sea of documents, or- he's a tactician, he can handle it.] But I haven't forgotten. I promise.
Mm?
[For a moment, he isn't sure what Gepard means by repayment, until he remembers their first night. That's right, the Captain did promise to drag him down to one of those interrogation rooms and bend him over the table. After having more experience with Gepard and the Earthworks in his pants, he can still say that he has a sort of wistful longing for getting battered by it. Beat his ass up so good with that big thing that the rest of the guard will think it's police brutality.]
I don't mind. I know you'll keep your promise! You can surprise me with it, I love a good surprise.
[He'll think that Gepard's bringing him in for a regular interrogation and, surprise! It's a dicking. Best surprise he'll have gotten in a long time.]
[But, for now, it's time to get dressed again so that he can be on his way. Sampo steps back into his underwear and tugs on his socks, goes searching for his pants and shirt. It's a shame to watch Gepard's handsome physique disappear back underneath that stuffy uniform, but, well. At least he's the only one who gets to see it.]
[He pulls on his shirt and jacket, smooths out any wrinkles in the fabric. His hair isn't quite as styled as it usually is, the gel that he uses to put it into its artfully tousled style hasn't quite held up to today's vigorous activities, but it's close enough. Just like that, he's back to looking like nothing ever happened.]
[He crosses the room again to where Gepard is standing, and reaches out to straighten out how one of his lapels lays against his chest. Those uniforms might be stuffy, but he does really fill it out quite well.]
There. That's better. [It was half just for the excuse to touch him.] Kiss me again before I go?
[For a moment, he isn't sure what Gepard means by repayment, until he remembers their first night. That's right, the Captain did promise to drag him down to one of those interrogation rooms and bend him over the table. After having more experience with Gepard and the Earthworks in his pants, he can still say that he has a sort of wistful longing for getting battered by it. Beat his ass up so good with that big thing that the rest of the guard will think it's police brutality.]
I don't mind. I know you'll keep your promise! You can surprise me with it, I love a good surprise.
[He'll think that Gepard's bringing him in for a regular interrogation and, surprise! It's a dicking. Best surprise he'll have gotten in a long time.]
[But, for now, it's time to get dressed again so that he can be on his way. Sampo steps back into his underwear and tugs on his socks, goes searching for his pants and shirt. It's a shame to watch Gepard's handsome physique disappear back underneath that stuffy uniform, but, well. At least he's the only one who gets to see it.]
[He pulls on his shirt and jacket, smooths out any wrinkles in the fabric. His hair isn't quite as styled as it usually is, the gel that he uses to put it into its artfully tousled style hasn't quite held up to today's vigorous activities, but it's close enough. Just like that, he's back to looking like nothing ever happened.]
[He crosses the room again to where Gepard is standing, and reaches out to straighten out how one of his lapels lays against his chest. Those uniforms might be stuffy, but he does really fill it out quite well.]
There. That's better. [It was half just for the excuse to touch him.] Kiss me again before I go?
[He takes off his glove- just one glove, but that's all he needs, and Gepard leans in, cups Sampo's cheek like he's something delicate, and kisses him like he misses him already, like the thought of them parting is unbearable enough as is, like he's going to dream of Sampo, long for him. It's absurd. There's a dangerous part of him that's whispering that he can try to keep Sampo, and damn the consequences.
Gepard ignores that. His lips part, his tongue darts out, and then there's a knocking at his door. He hears a polite Captain Landau?
Gepard pulls back like he's been scalded by hot water.] What is it?
[He sounds...a little mean. But that's fine. As the soldier stammers out something-or-another, Gepard gestures for Sampo to go to the window, just get out, go, shoo, etc.]
Gepard ignores that. His lips part, his tongue darts out, and then there's a knocking at his door. He hears a polite Captain Landau?
Gepard pulls back like he's been scalded by hot water.] What is it?
[He sounds...a little mean. But that's fine. As the soldier stammers out something-or-another, Gepard gestures for Sampo to go to the window, just get out, go, shoo, etc.]
[This is the danger of sleeping with a man like Gepard-- that moment when he cups your face like you're precious and kisses you like this is the climactic moment of a romance novel. If this were a romance novel, the whole world would've stopped for this kiss, for Gepard touching him like Sampo is the answer to every question, like he's the destination of every journey.]
[It's ridiculous. Sampo is too old for this shit, he should be smart enough not to fall for it.]
[He absolutely isn't and he absolutely does.]
[Sampo's hand rests against the good Captain's chest as he kisses him in return, losing himself a little in the fantasy that Gepard's spinning with just a kiss. He should be impressed, really, that Gepard is capable of it. It's impressive that he can sell this lie with a straight face.]
[It's all broken when he jerks back, ending everything abruptly because of a knock on the door. There's some guardsman outside, someone that Gepard has to deal with, and Sampo can't stick around to see who it is. As little as he wanted to break their liplock, he really does have to get out-- Sampo grabs his gloves off of the desk and goes over to the open window, leaning out of it for a moment before he really leaves. Just long enough to blow one last kiss to Gepard, in lieu of saying something ridiculous to him as a good-bye, just before he drops through the opening and out of sight.]
[That's not the only thing that he'd left with the good Captain, though-- there's a rose threaded through the buttonhole of his lapel, a vibrant splash of red against his white uniform. Just a little memento.]
[It's ridiculous. Sampo is too old for this shit, he should be smart enough not to fall for it.]
[He absolutely isn't and he absolutely does.]
[Sampo's hand rests against the good Captain's chest as he kisses him in return, losing himself a little in the fantasy that Gepard's spinning with just a kiss. He should be impressed, really, that Gepard is capable of it. It's impressive that he can sell this lie with a straight face.]
[It's all broken when he jerks back, ending everything abruptly because of a knock on the door. There's some guardsman outside, someone that Gepard has to deal with, and Sampo can't stick around to see who it is. As little as he wanted to break their liplock, he really does have to get out-- Sampo grabs his gloves off of the desk and goes over to the open window, leaning out of it for a moment before he really leaves. Just long enough to blow one last kiss to Gepard, in lieu of saying something ridiculous to him as a good-bye, just before he drops through the opening and out of sight.]
[That's not the only thing that he'd left with the good Captain, though-- there's a rose threaded through the buttonhole of his lapel, a vibrant splash of red against his white uniform. Just a little memento.]
[Gepard knows that he shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't, but-
He leans into Sampo's arm, his touch, ever so slightly. Just ever so slightly, because he can't indulge himself that much, but there's a small handful of people who'd touch him like this, and he's related to most of them, and is it bad to indulge? Just a little?
It probably is, but he's off for the next day or two. He can indulge a little. Right? Maybe not, but what's done is done.]
If you say so. [But he lets himself be guided to his door. Doesn't resist at all, really.] But if we're seen- that's fine, but what should I tell people if they ask me about you afterwards? There's no sense in-
[Why does it feel like he's doing something illegal. Immoral. Gepard makes a face, like he swallowed something vaguely unpleasant and is dealing with the aftertaste, and that 'something vaguely unpleasant' is considering what he's getting into in a new and more horrible way.]
-not agreeing on the details ahead of time. Just a friend, or...?
He leans into Sampo's arm, his touch, ever so slightly. Just ever so slightly, because he can't indulge himself that much, but there's a small handful of people who'd touch him like this, and he's related to most of them, and is it bad to indulge? Just a little?
It probably is, but he's off for the next day or two. He can indulge a little. Right? Maybe not, but what's done is done.]
If you say so. [But he lets himself be guided to his door. Doesn't resist at all, really.] But if we're seen- that's fine, but what should I tell people if they ask me about you afterwards? There's no sense in-
[Why does it feel like he's doing something illegal. Immoral. Gepard makes a face, like he swallowed something vaguely unpleasant and is dealing with the aftertaste, and that 'something vaguely unpleasant' is considering what he's getting into in a new and more horrible way.]
-not agreeing on the details ahead of time. Just a friend, or...?
[How could it be bad to indulge, Gepard, when Sampo initiated the contact? If he didn't want to touch the good Captain, he wouldn't be touching him-- the fact that he's hooked an arm through Gepard's like they're bosom friends means that he at least doesn't hate the idea of it.]
[Really, there are a lot of things that he'd hate more than being touched by a handsome blond.]
Just a friend, that works. You do have those, right?
[He must. Gepard's a regular adult man, he must have at least a few people that he'd call friends. People that he'd go out with, someone he'd share a beer with after work or whatever it is that strapping guardsmen do on their downtime.]
Don't overthink it, I doubt anyone will even give you a second glance. We're just two normal people doing normal things!
[Really, there are a lot of things that he'd hate more than being touched by a handsome blond.]
Just a friend, that works. You do have those, right?
[He must. Gepard's a regular adult man, he must have at least a few people that he'd call friends. People that he'd go out with, someone he'd share a beer with after work or whatever it is that strapping guardsmen do on their downtime.]
Don't overthink it, I doubt anyone will even give you a second glance. We're just two normal people doing normal things!
[He does have friends and all of them are connected to his job. Gepard doesn't say that, though, because maybe Figaro is right? Maybe Figaro has a point when he says that no one would notice them - it's not as if people would recognize him not wearing his uniform. Right?]
You're right.
[He's overthinking this! And out they go, Gepard pausing to-]
How do you get inside, anyway?
[Lock his door, because, well. Why wouldn't he?]
Don't answer that- I already know you wouldn't tell the truth. If I knew about it, I could stop it. [Not that he would, but...]
You're right.
[He's overthinking this! And out they go, Gepard pausing to-]
How do you get inside, anyway?
[Lock his door, because, well. Why wouldn't he?]
Don't answer that- I already know you wouldn't tell the truth. If I knew about it, I could stop it. [Not that he would, but...]
I already told you that I can pick any lock in this city. How's it surprising that I can get into your apartment?
[He doesn't need a key. Gepard could give him one if it would make him feel better, but Sampo rarely enters through the door anyway. But if the good Captain would like to think that he's getting into his house in a relatively normal fashion, that's his prerogative.]
[They step out into the normal chill of a Belobogian morning, arm in arm. Just two friends having a little stroll, nothing for anyone to take notice of.]
You live pretty close to the florist's. Was that on purpose?
[It would be very cute if the Captain lived close to the florist's because of his cute hobby. Even if he's objectively bad at it, it's endearing that he's so dedicated to its pursuit.]
[He doesn't need a key. Gepard could give him one if it would make him feel better, but Sampo rarely enters through the door anyway. But if the good Captain would like to think that he's getting into his house in a relatively normal fashion, that's his prerogative.]
[They step out into the normal chill of a Belobogian morning, arm in arm. Just two friends having a little stroll, nothing for anyone to take notice of.]
You live pretty close to the florist's. Was that on purpose?
[It would be very cute if the Captain lived close to the florist's because of his cute hobby. Even if he's objectively bad at it, it's endearing that he's so dedicated to its pursuit.]
[People are definitely going to ask him questions later about the dark-haired man entering and leaving his apartment, and Gepard has no idea how he's going to answer them or handle Pela, or his sisters (as if Pela knows, his sisters will know), or anyone else. Or, worse, they might not ask him anything at all, and that's how he'll know they're snooping in his personal life.
And he wants to say, hey. Figaro. There's a difference between entering through a window and entering through a door, and the more he acts like he belongs, the more questions people will have for him, but then Figaro asks about the florist and Gepard just shuts up for a long moment.]
Not...exactly. [It's said very carefully. (Or to put it another way, yes, it was on purpose and he tried justifying it after the fact.)] I was in a hurry to move out and this was the best apartment that I could find that was in my budget. The fact it is near the florist is only a bonus.
And he wants to say, hey. Figaro. There's a difference between entering through a window and entering through a door, and the more he acts like he belongs, the more questions people will have for him, but then Figaro asks about the florist and Gepard just shuts up for a long moment.]
Not...exactly. [It's said very carefully. (Or to put it another way, yes, it was on purpose and he tried justifying it after the fact.)] I was in a hurry to move out and this was the best apartment that I could find that was in my budget. The fact it is near the florist is only a bonus.
[Cute! The Captain may have had a budget and may have needed to move out quick, but the fact that he managed to find a place that's also in close proximity to the purveyor of his special interest is a little too coincidental.]
[They stroll towards the shop. Sampo absolutely acts as though he belongs there, as though coming out of Gepard's apartment in the morning is nothing new, as though the two of them walking together is the most normal thing in the world. If any intelligence officers catch wind of the dark-haired stranger that's gotten all chummy with their Captain, well, then that's Gepard's problem, isn't it? But he's a smart man, he must be able to deal with a few inquisitive women. He goes out and punches Fragmentum monsters in the face on a regular basis, how could handling Pela or Serval be any worse than that?]
Lucky, then. And they must pay Captains better than I expected if you can afford a nice place this close to the Administrative District.
[The apartments and houses there are, of course, pricier than the residential areas further out from the city center. That's why Sampo had to get his Overworld safe house in one of the... less nice areas of town.]
Any thoughts on what you want to try your hand at this time? [What poor plant does he want to butcher?] I'm a rose kind of guy, myself, but that probably wouldn't fit on your windowsill.
[They stroll towards the shop. Sampo absolutely acts as though he belongs there, as though coming out of Gepard's apartment in the morning is nothing new, as though the two of them walking together is the most normal thing in the world. If any intelligence officers catch wind of the dark-haired stranger that's gotten all chummy with their Captain, well, then that's Gepard's problem, isn't it? But he's a smart man, he must be able to deal with a few inquisitive women. He goes out and punches Fragmentum monsters in the face on a regular basis, how could handling Pela or Serval be any worse than that?]
Lucky, then. And they must pay Captains better than I expected if you can afford a nice place this close to the Administrative District.
[The apartments and houses there are, of course, pricier than the residential areas further out from the city center. That's why Sampo had to get his Overworld safe house in one of the... less nice areas of town.]
Any thoughts on what you want to try your hand at this time? [What poor plant does he want to butcher?] I'm a rose kind of guy, myself, but that probably wouldn't fit on your windowsill.
[Why does he feel seen through, why does it feel like Figaro saw through what he was intending, how does he recover from this-
But Figaro says he likes roses, and Gepard perks up like he's a puppy that was just offered a treat. His eyes slightly widen, his lips curl up in a small, shy smile that he really ought to smother, but it can linger for a moment, Figaro can see.]
I like roses. But you're right... [He can admit it.] ...even if I didn't kill it, my windowsill would be a bad place for a rose bush. I feel like I should get something sturdy, or, barring that...
[...fine.] Cheap. I keep on telling myself that I should be happy with the florist simply being close to where I live. Even if I can't keep a plant alive, it's nice seeing them as I go back and forth from work, and a bouquet lasts long enough until I inevitably go back to the front lines again. [That is to say, a handful of days.] But I always find myself buying a new plant when I'm back in Belobog. I tell myself that this time, it will work out.
But Figaro says he likes roses, and Gepard perks up like he's a puppy that was just offered a treat. His eyes slightly widen, his lips curl up in a small, shy smile that he really ought to smother, but it can linger for a moment, Figaro can see.]
I like roses. But you're right... [He can admit it.] ...even if I didn't kill it, my windowsill would be a bad place for a rose bush. I feel like I should get something sturdy, or, barring that...
[...fine.] Cheap. I keep on telling myself that I should be happy with the florist simply being close to where I live. Even if I can't keep a plant alive, it's nice seeing them as I go back and forth from work, and a bouquet lasts long enough until I inevitably go back to the front lines again. [That is to say, a handful of days.] But I always find myself buying a new plant when I'm back in Belobog. I tell myself that this time, it will work out.
There has to be something sturdy enough to withstand a little neglect. If the Architects could get some plants to survive the Eternal Freeze, there has to be something that can survive you.
[Gepard Landau cannot possibly be a greater ecological disaster than the Eternal Freeze. It's just not possible, he might be a force of nature but he's not an apocalypse. They just haven't found the right indestructible plant yet.]
[The bell above the door jingles as they walk into Eversummer Florist. The woman behind the counter greets Gepard, obviously recognizing him, and seems politely confused about the fact that he has someone with him, but doesn't comment on it. Sampo just gives her a jaunty little wave.]
What about a succulent? They're pretty hardy, and I think some of them are okay with cold weather.
[Maybe not Belobog-cold weather, but there are varieties that should at least be able to stay alive even if they're near a cold window. And some of them even bloom if they're really well taken care of, so that would be a rewarding thing for Gepard. Finally getting a plant happy enough to give him a flower.]
[Gepard Landau cannot possibly be a greater ecological disaster than the Eternal Freeze. It's just not possible, he might be a force of nature but he's not an apocalypse. They just haven't found the right indestructible plant yet.]
[The bell above the door jingles as they walk into Eversummer Florist. The woman behind the counter greets Gepard, obviously recognizing him, and seems politely confused about the fact that he has someone with him, but doesn't comment on it. Sampo just gives her a jaunty little wave.]
What about a succulent? They're pretty hardy, and I think some of them are okay with cold weather.
[Maybe not Belobog-cold weather, but there are varieties that should at least be able to stay alive even if they're near a cold window. And some of them even bloom if they're really well taken care of, so that would be a rewarding thing for Gepard. Finally getting a plant happy enough to give him a flower.]
[Gepard recognizes the woman. Vaska. She'd been the one who sold him some lilies before his last tour of duty. Reassured him that they were rather sturdy, no matter what he did they'd find a way of surviving. He gives her a little smile, hoping that he won't have to explain that they actually did die. It's miserable. He knew a lot of the florist staff by name, knew what some of their lives were like, and a lot of them probably assumed he had a lush apartment.
It's not lush. He knows it, his sisters knows it, and now a stranger calling himself Figaro knows it.
His attention is fixed back on Figaro as he hopes against all hope that the staff of Eversummer Florist won't ask him questions about his...
...friend.]
A succulent? [That's a new suggestion.] I never tried growing one. They always seemed so...
[What's a good word for it.] Delicate.
It's not lush. He knows it, his sisters knows it, and now a stranger calling himself Figaro knows it.
His attention is fixed back on Figaro as he hopes against all hope that the staff of Eversummer Florist won't ask him questions about his...
...friend.]
A succulent? [That's a new suggestion.] I never tried growing one. They always seemed so...
[What's a good word for it.] Delicate.
[Gepard Landau did not want to attend the party. He really didn't. He tried very hard to come up with excuses- no, not excuses, reasons to not go. Good reasons. Good, solid reasons that would convince even the likes of his father. His return to the front lines got delayed. Not for long, only a day or two, and there was absolutely nothing that Gepard could do about that, so he...didn't bother attempting to do anything at all.
Serval had offered to let him hide out in her workshop, and Gepard had been tempted because they both hated the parties, but he pointed out that their parents would come after them regardless of what he did, and he'd be hiding on the front lines in a few days (and his sister made a face, clearly not liking it) which meant that their mother and father would just be seething impotently at a distance, wanting a heir, but unable to do anything about it. It was easier for the both of them this way - and Serval didn't like this either, and it was obvious, but she agreed. Reluctantly. Not exactly fine with this.
So, Gepard went to the manor home and had a not-entirely-unpleasant conversation with his mother, and hurried up to his childhood bedroom- not that he stayed there anymore, but it was easier to wear something thick on the streets and change into a dress uniform at the manor. And as he stared at the medals (he'd acquired them in the same way windows acquired a lining of frost) Gepard asked himself what it was he was doing and decided that what he was doing was making things easier for his sisters by having one of them discharge an obligation, and having the one who discharged the obligation being the guy who was away from Belobog for months on end. And that's all.
He fixed his hair. Then, Gepard looked in a mirror and immediately felt like a toy soldier marching on, someone pretending to be something that he's not. He tried fixing his hair and decided that it made him worse. He felt like a puppet danging from strings, dancing to someone else's whims. He looked like a boy, who thought he was a man. It was the dress uniform. Probably. Or maybe he was just anxious. (Don't ask him what he was anxious about...probably the pressure to give his family an heir, because one of them had to, and it was either going to be him or Lynx, maybe.)
There was music downstairs. Something light. Pastoral, badly fitting for the sort of planet which Belobog was, and Gepard missed being with his men.
But.
He has a duty. Or. Something. Or something. And so Gepard squares his shoulders, and unsquares his shoulders, and looks in the mirror, and adjusts his uniform one last time, resquares his shoulders, and then he descends somewhat fashionably late. Not too much, but a little. Politely late.
...and is almost immediately forced to meet someone-or-another, some girl with impeccable breeding and a long lineage, one who is dedicated to the path of the Architects, but that's fine, Gepard Landau definitely knows how to be professionally polite.]
Serval had offered to let him hide out in her workshop, and Gepard had been tempted because they both hated the parties, but he pointed out that their parents would come after them regardless of what he did, and he'd be hiding on the front lines in a few days (and his sister made a face, clearly not liking it) which meant that their mother and father would just be seething impotently at a distance, wanting a heir, but unable to do anything about it. It was easier for the both of them this way - and Serval didn't like this either, and it was obvious, but she agreed. Reluctantly. Not exactly fine with this.
So, Gepard went to the manor home and had a not-entirely-unpleasant conversation with his mother, and hurried up to his childhood bedroom- not that he stayed there anymore, but it was easier to wear something thick on the streets and change into a dress uniform at the manor. And as he stared at the medals (he'd acquired them in the same way windows acquired a lining of frost) Gepard asked himself what it was he was doing and decided that what he was doing was making things easier for his sisters by having one of them discharge an obligation, and having the one who discharged the obligation being the guy who was away from Belobog for months on end. And that's all.
He fixed his hair. Then, Gepard looked in a mirror and immediately felt like a toy soldier marching on, someone pretending to be something that he's not. He tried fixing his hair and decided that it made him worse. He felt like a puppet danging from strings, dancing to someone else's whims. He looked like a boy, who thought he was a man. It was the dress uniform. Probably. Or maybe he was just anxious. (Don't ask him what he was anxious about...probably the pressure to give his family an heir, because one of them had to, and it was either going to be him or Lynx, maybe.)
There was music downstairs. Something light. Pastoral, badly fitting for the sort of planet which Belobog was, and Gepard missed being with his men.
But.
He has a duty. Or. Something. Or something. And so Gepard squares his shoulders, and unsquares his shoulders, and looks in the mirror, and adjusts his uniform one last time, resquares his shoulders, and then he descends somewhat fashionably late. Not too much, but a little. Politely late.
...and is almost immediately forced to meet someone-or-another, some girl with impeccable breeding and a long lineage, one who is dedicated to the path of the Architects, but that's fine, Gepard Landau definitely knows how to be professionally polite.]
[Gepard has no way of knowing if tonight is a night that Sampo Koski decides that it's worthwhile to crash a Landau soiree. Sure, he'd said that the prize for their little game is so valuable that he couldn't afford to miss, but was he telling the truth? Was there really no other engagement that he might have that would take precedent over another fling with a guard captain?]
[Who knows? That's part of the game. Just like how Sampo wouldn't know if Gepard managed to excuse himself out of attending.]
[The party goes as expected. The ballroom is sumptuous. The canapes are tiny and intricate and the liquor costs more than an Underworlder's yearly salary. The band plays something sweet and pastoral, Gepard Landau enters the ballroom-- finely dressed, only slightly late, and almost immediately accosted by a potential wife candidate. Hand selected by his father, of course, some pretty thing of acceptable social stock. A fitting broodmare for Landau studding. It must be galling, for one's own father to pick out a bride with the same compassion and consideration that one would pick a horse to breed.]
[Gepard is speaking to one of those lucky little broodmares. Not the first, maybe, and certainly not the last. She's probably a lovely girl, really, with a sweet and gentle disposition, and might not have even made a bad wife, if all one cared about was pedigree and whether she'd be an inconvenient roommate. One of the waitstaff appears next to the good Captain, seemingly from thin air-- as good waitstaff do-- bearing a tray full of champagne flutes. The waiter is unremarkable in terms of his appearance, brown haired and forgettable as far as facial features go, and he offers flutes of champagne to both Gepard and his companion.]
[Because of how they are standing, when the waiter hands the glass to Gepard's potential suitress, his hand passes briefly in front of the good Captain's chest.]
[His duty fulfilled, the waiter unobtrusively slips away, leaving the two of them to their conversation. (His eyes are green, if Gepard happened to look closely enough.) A little later, Gepard might notice a missing weight on his chest-- a missing medal, one with a green ribbon.]
[The game's afoot, Geppie. Catch him if you can.]
[Who knows? That's part of the game. Just like how Sampo wouldn't know if Gepard managed to excuse himself out of attending.]
[The party goes as expected. The ballroom is sumptuous. The canapes are tiny and intricate and the liquor costs more than an Underworlder's yearly salary. The band plays something sweet and pastoral, Gepard Landau enters the ballroom-- finely dressed, only slightly late, and almost immediately accosted by a potential wife candidate. Hand selected by his father, of course, some pretty thing of acceptable social stock. A fitting broodmare for Landau studding. It must be galling, for one's own father to pick out a bride with the same compassion and consideration that one would pick a horse to breed.]
[Gepard is speaking to one of those lucky little broodmares. Not the first, maybe, and certainly not the last. She's probably a lovely girl, really, with a sweet and gentle disposition, and might not have even made a bad wife, if all one cared about was pedigree and whether she'd be an inconvenient roommate. One of the waitstaff appears next to the good Captain, seemingly from thin air-- as good waitstaff do-- bearing a tray full of champagne flutes. The waiter is unremarkable in terms of his appearance, brown haired and forgettable as far as facial features go, and he offers flutes of champagne to both Gepard and his companion.]
[Because of how they are standing, when the waiter hands the glass to Gepard's potential suitress, his hand passes briefly in front of the good Captain's chest.]
[His duty fulfilled, the waiter unobtrusively slips away, leaving the two of them to their conversation. (His eyes are green, if Gepard happened to look closely enough.) A little later, Gepard might notice a missing weight on his chest-- a missing medal, one with a green ribbon.]
[The game's afoot, Geppie. Catch him if you can.]
[Sampo might notice the precise moment Gepard realizes something's missing.
Gepard freezes in his tracks for a second too long, his gaze a little too distant. His mouth parts ever so slightly and he feels a fluttering in his chest - anticipation - and then Gepard gathers himself because the captain knows what happens next: he'll scour the crowds trying to find someone who doesn't quite fit in, or, someone who fits in a little too well, but-
Gepard Landau made a mistake.
And that mistake was that he froze in his tracks for a little too long and his gaze because a little too distant, and his mouth parted ever so slightly, and he did so while facing some women/potential additions to the Landau family/future mothers of his children.
Fuck fuck fuck. And now he's obligated to make some polite small talk. And if music starts playing, he'll probably have to ask a couple to dance.
Still, outwardly: he's the polite son of the Landau family.]
And how are you enjoying the party, miss...?
[The woman titters out some response. Gepard changes his tactics to scouring the crowd and trying to see someone who's fucking amused at his expense, because he sure feels like a fool right now.]
Gepard freezes in his tracks for a second too long, his gaze a little too distant. His mouth parts ever so slightly and he feels a fluttering in his chest - anticipation - and then Gepard gathers himself because the captain knows what happens next: he'll scour the crowds trying to find someone who doesn't quite fit in, or, someone who fits in a little too well, but-
Gepard Landau made a mistake.
And that mistake was that he froze in his tracks for a little too long and his gaze because a little too distant, and his mouth parted ever so slightly, and he did so while facing some women/potential additions to the Landau family/future mothers of his children.
Fuck fuck fuck. And now he's obligated to make some polite small talk. And if music starts playing, he'll probably have to ask a couple to dance.
Still, outwardly: he's the polite son of the Landau family.]
And how are you enjoying the party, miss...?
[The woman titters out some response. Gepard changes his tactics to scouring the crowd and trying to see someone who's fucking amused at his expense, because he sure feels like a fool right now.]
[An amateur mistake, Gepard— these women are looking for a chance to be the next Landau bride, and you’re their only shot at it. Only one Landau bachelor to go around! They can practically smell weakness and are ready to pounce at any opportunity. And the moment that Gepard stops to scan the crowd is when they see their opening.]
[The good Captain is forced to deal with the woman’s tittering— the eldest daughter of a middling family, getting to the age where she must be paired off and hoping to make a social leap— and off somewhere in the crowd, a pair of green eyes watches him with amusement from near the band. Gepard could fight his way through Fragmentum monsters, could weather the worst of Jarilo-VI’s eternal winter, but he can’t escape the perfumed clutches of would-be brides.]
[Catch Sampo’s eye, Gepard, and he’ll give you a cheeky little wink.]
[And then he turns to say a few words to the band’s conductor. There might be a little money exchanged, maybe not, but right after he does, the band strikes up into dancing music, just a little early for this time of the evening. But who doesn’t love a little dancing? Certainly not Gepard, who would appear terribly rude if he didn’t take a lady or two for a spin around the dance floor.]
[The good Captain is forced to deal with the woman’s tittering— the eldest daughter of a middling family, getting to the age where she must be paired off and hoping to make a social leap— and off somewhere in the crowd, a pair of green eyes watches him with amusement from near the band. Gepard could fight his way through Fragmentum monsters, could weather the worst of Jarilo-VI’s eternal winter, but he can’t escape the perfumed clutches of would-be brides.]
[Catch Sampo’s eye, Gepard, and he’ll give you a cheeky little wink.]
[And then he turns to say a few words to the band’s conductor. There might be a little money exchanged, maybe not, but right after he does, the band strikes up into dancing music, just a little early for this time of the evening. But who doesn’t love a little dancing? Certainly not Gepard, who would appear terribly rude if he didn’t take a lady or two for a spin around the dance floor.]
[He catches the eye of someone nondescript, except for his eyes, and the stranger flashes him a cheeky little wink and Gepard's eyes widen ever so slightly, and if circumstances were different he'd politely excuse himself from the woman (what was her name again?) but if he moved too quickly he might tip off to people that a stranger, interloper, thief, complication was here, and he doesn't want Sampo to be driven off.
But then-
Music starts. It's a nice waltz! Gepard contemplates the merits of throwing Sampo out of his father's house, but he's got a woman in front of her and he knows what he's supposed to do.
So he charmingly smiles at her in the same way all retail employees smile at their customers, extends a hand, and asks-]
May I have this dance?
[She, of course, is delighted to have this dance, and off they go, waltzing. Gepard can feel the approving eyes of his mother, probably, glad that one of her children is finally showing signs of giving her grandchildren. His father is pleased, probably. Assuming he's paying attention.
He hopes Sampo is amused, but Gepard has no time to look for him, he has to look like he's reasonably, politely enjoying this dance and he does his best, because he is a man of duty. It's pleasant. He enjoys dancing, generally speaking; it's something that relates to music, but it's physical. Tactile. The woman enjoys it, maybe? At least it hadn't been a bad dance.
The music ends. He thanks her, and then makes his excuses- okay, no, she asked him out (in a polite, high society sort of way, but still) before he could ditch.]
My apologies, miss, but I'll be back on the frontlines by then.
[Help.
...but it's fine, one thing leads to another, and he ends up dancing with another woman (if he doesn't, he might return to discover that he's expected to go on dates with Woman #1) while making more polite small talk, gently fantasizing about running out into the snow and back into the arms of the military. It's very charming. People think him and Woman #2 are a handsome couple.
It's fine. It's just another extension of duty.
One more dance and then he'll just leave, feign having to pee (or something) and gather himself in a quiet corner, and until then he just will dance and long for the cold and the snow. At least that's simple.]
But then-
Music starts. It's a nice waltz! Gepard contemplates the merits of throwing Sampo out of his father's house, but he's got a woman in front of her and he knows what he's supposed to do.
So he charmingly smiles at her in the same way all retail employees smile at their customers, extends a hand, and asks-]
May I have this dance?
[She, of course, is delighted to have this dance, and off they go, waltzing. Gepard can feel the approving eyes of his mother, probably, glad that one of her children is finally showing signs of giving her grandchildren. His father is pleased, probably. Assuming he's paying attention.
He hopes Sampo is amused, but Gepard has no time to look for him, he has to look like he's reasonably, politely enjoying this dance and he does his best, because he is a man of duty. It's pleasant. He enjoys dancing, generally speaking; it's something that relates to music, but it's physical. Tactile. The woman enjoys it, maybe? At least it hadn't been a bad dance.
The music ends. He thanks her, and then makes his excuses- okay, no, she asked him out (in a polite, high society sort of way, but still) before he could ditch.]
My apologies, miss, but I'll be back on the frontlines by then.
[Help.
...but it's fine, one thing leads to another, and he ends up dancing with another woman (if he doesn't, he might return to discover that he's expected to go on dates with Woman #1) while making more polite small talk, gently fantasizing about running out into the snow and back into the arms of the military. It's very charming. People think him and Woman #2 are a handsome couple.
It's fine. It's just another extension of duty.
One more dance and then he'll just leave, feign having to pee (or something) and gather himself in a quiet corner, and until then he just will dance and long for the cold and the snow. At least that's simple.]
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