Probably not. He’s probably being all pragmatic about it, thinking about how he doesn’t want to lose a resource or how Sampo is his responsibility or something. Boring.
The others take their leave, off to attend to their own affairs. That leaves him and Gepard in a hotel room, all by their lonesome. Were Gepard a more interesting and less morally upright man, this might be an entertaining way to spend an evening, but the good captain is not either of those two things.
“Miss Supreme Guardian could try to find someone else, but she’ll have a hard time finding someone like me.”
And that’s the thing— they came to him because of his very particular skill set. If they could use just any conman off the street, they’d have done so.
“Look, if this is how you want to do things, I’m not going to argue! You’re running the show,” he says, hands raised in a placating gesture. “But why don’t you let me fix your disguise a little? I have my kit with me, I’m sure I can do something!”
Gepard’s distinctive, but there are ways to mitigate that. To dull down all those handsome features into something that no one would look twice at. A shame, in a sense, to hide all that natural beauty, but a necessary thing. The things one does for the sake of pragmatism!
Gepard hates to admit it but Sampo is right. If this was an operation that they can easily sort out, Bronya or Pela can find a different person to join them. But as it stands, the role landed to Sampo, no doubt for his ability in the field. The fact that they even managed to catch him in time for the mission feels more deliberate than a coincidence, though Pela would've most likely found another way to get ahold of him if he weren't in jail.
He throws Sampo a look of suspicion, arms folded across his chest. It makes sense that he'd offer to help out, especially when they're on the same team for once. And he's not going to lie that his features are probably too distinctive, but—
"How certain are we that you won't do something ridiculous on my face?"
He's been too wary, he knows, but he's also aware of Sampo and his tricks. The last thing he wants is to walk out of the hotel looking like a clown. That's not going to help their mission at all.
But if the guy can assure him that this will work, then Gepard will have no choice but to relent.
On the average day, Gepard's suspicion would have probably been warranted. Sampo rarely does anything for free, and when he does, there's usually an ulterior motive to it that benefits him in some way. So to be offering--
Well. It's not a normal day. There's an obvious benefit to having Gepard in a decent disguise and a distinct detriment to him standing out any more than he already does.
"Just look at it before we go," he says. "If you don't like it, than you can wash it off! You won't want to, though, I'm good at what I do."
He shoos Gepard towards one of the chairs, sort of flapping a hand in his general direction. "Go on, sit down."
He has to pull out all of his things; compact cases that he can store easily in the pockets of street clothes. Has much more extensive supplies in his safe houses, of course, but he keeps enough on him so that he could toss together something if need be. It isn't the best-case scenario, he could really transform Gepard if he had everything at his fingertips, but this will be enough.
He arranges things on the table next to where Gepard is sitting, sorting everything into groups-- foundation, concealers, color correctors, contour, eye palettes, an array of compact brushes and sponges.
"You know, Captain, part of the problem is that even when you're trying to look casual, you look too put-together. It's useless to tell you to loosen up, but you could try pretending to!"
It's with reluctance and a great deal of self-control for Gepard to allow himself to be herded towards a chair, especially by Sampo. In fact, he throws him a glare right before he finally settles down, his eyes flickering suspiciously towards the implements he starts pulling out from his pockets one at a time. He recognizes a few, mostly because he has sisters (or at least, a sister) who use them, and almost dreads what he's about to do.
And receiving a lecture from him about loosening up ...
"Am I not supposed to look put-together?"
Maybe he's simply used to making sure he looks like a decent person from the years ingrained in him by his mother about etiquette and good manners. It's a courtesy to everyone, after all, that one looks neat and tidy. Changing that part of him will take time, time they don't have if they're chasing after human traffickers.
"Or are you telling me I should look like you during this mission?"
Wearing clothes that are not at all appropriate for the cold weather, please.
“Well, you might want to look a little less like a guardsman in plainclothes,” he says, popping open the lids of some of his palettes.
Where to start? Sampo hooks a finger under Gepard’s chin, to nudge it up so that he’s looking at him, and examines his face. Granted, he knows Gepard Landau’s face very well by this point, he’s seen it on many occasions, but this isn’t just him admiring the good captain.
“It’s a bit of a shame, really. You have good bone structure. Those cheekbones! All the pretty girls must be chasing after you.”
He laughs; those poor girls, chasing after a man like Gepard. Too serious and married to his job to ever think about courting some lovely young thing. It’s a fool’s errand.
He takes a palette and starts to work. A little contour here, a highlight there, soften up that sharp jawline a little. Make that straight nose look like it has a little shift to it, like it had maybe once been broken.
“There’s nothing wrong with how I dress! But I’m not looking like me for this mission, so you definitely shouldn’t. Me, my clothes are part of the brand,” he says with a wink. “It’s part of the Sampo Koski business model.”
Outward portrayal is important! In the same way that the Silvermane uniform tells everyone who the guards are, Sampo’s particular fashion sense is part of the image of the man that he tells everyone he is. And part of that, yes, is being a man with a boob window and hip cut-outs in a blizzard.
“You think you’d be able to grow a beard…? Or at least a little stubble.” He traces his thumb along the edge of Gepard’s jaw— smooth. Either the good captain is one of those men who can’t grow facial hair to save his life, or he’s got an incredibly sharp razor and a very steady hand.
Gepard can't tell if Sampo is making fun of him. He wouldn't be surprised if that's the case, the expression the other man wears is nothing but amusement as he studies his face, tilting and nudging and shifting it here and there as if needing to investigate every angle. What else does he need to look at his face to decide how to change it?
"There's no one chasing after me."
Or at least, that's what he knows of.
None of his men has certainly told him anything. His sister has never mentioned anything, either. And he's pretty sure he's made an impression of someone disinterested in dating or someone intimidating to be approached. It works well in many cases, especially in circumstances where he doesn't want to be disturbed.
He wrinkles his nose when he starts putting on the makeup, already feeling uncomfortable by the weight of the powders being piled on top of his skin. Is he supposed to work like this every day while this operation is underway?
At his question, Gepard's frown deepens. "No, I wouldn't be able to. Stop asking for unreasonable things."
His father never had issues, and yet, facial hair is simply something Gepard wasn't blessed with. A shame, since it would've helped him cement a sterner expression with the guards, too.
If Sampo really, really wanted to, he could have avoided Gepard more than he did. He's entirely capable of blending in, making himself disappear into a crowd, becoming an entirely different person for a while. He could hide himself better when he's in the Overworld, to keep himself from the hassle of being chased by one overzealous guard captain. Time and time again, though-- he's spotted, there's the game of cat-and-mouse. Sometimes he's caught, sometimes he escapes, every time he wins. Gepard just hasn't realized yet that 'winning' for Sampo is a completely separate thing from whether he gets arrested or not.
Winning is having those pretty blue eyes on him. Winning is Gepard's undivided attention.
So this, too, is winning of a sort. He's got Gepard's attention, without even having to commit a crime or run through the streets to get it.
"Shame," he says, referring to Gepard's chronically un-bearded face. "It'd be an easy way to change your face if you could. You're lucky, though! Every morning I could use my cheeks to sand the edge off of a board, it's a hassle."
A little more, just to really hide those Landau features. The illusion of a broader nose with a slight bend in it from an old break, a softer jawline, and...
"And you look like you could use a little more sleep every morning," he takes a light shade of concealer and dabs a little of it underneath Gepard's eyes, then blends it out. "These dark circles aren't doing your face any favors! There. That's better. I'd be able to do a better job hiding you if I had all of my things, but this should do for now."
He doesn't think anything would change even if he grows a beard. Wouldn't he look just as he is right now, only with facial hair? Perhaps a tad bit more intimidating, but his current face does just as well in terms of commanding his men. He certainly hasn't had any of the guards slack off under his watch since he's become Captain.
At the mention of sleep, Gepard's expression twists a little, if only because he's heard that reminder far too many times than necessary.
"I sleep for enough hours without you needing to tell me."
Who needs sleep anyway when they're currently under attack from the Fragmentum? Even when he's back in the city, there's still work he needs to address that's been left to the wayside while he's assigned to the restricted zone. There are more things he needs to worry about than losing a few hours of sleep.
Gepard turns to the mirror in the hotel room, frowning at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. He tilts his head, figuring out if it really was him who was wearing this face.
Not bad is about as high a praise as Sampo can expect from Gepard, and he’s pleased to get it. It’d be better if Gepard actually used his first name, but baby steps! He’ll get there eventually.
“See, you can trust ol’ Sampo to do you right!”
No, you really can’t, but he could sometimes be trusted to do what he says. The hard part is figuring out when that is.
“Your own mother would have a hard time recognizing you. I bet you could walk right past Serval and she wouldn’t even know! Ah, but we don’t have time for that.”
Shame, it could have been fun to parade Gepard around and see how many people failed to recognize him. Maybe even the Supreme Guardian herself! And then maybe Gepard would understand the appeal of going around in disguise.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Probably not. He’s probably being all pragmatic about it, thinking about how he doesn’t want to lose a resource or how Sampo is his responsibility or something. Boring.
The others take their leave, off to attend to their own affairs. That leaves him and Gepard in a hotel room, all by their lonesome. Were Gepard a more interesting and less morally upright man, this might be an entertaining way to spend an evening, but the good captain is not either of those two things.
“Miss Supreme Guardian could try to find someone else, but she’ll have a hard time finding someone like me.”
And that’s the thing— they came to him because of his very particular skill set. If they could use just any conman off the street, they’d have done so.
“Look, if this is how you want to do things, I’m not going to argue! You’re running the show,” he says, hands raised in a placating gesture. “But why don’t you let me fix your disguise a little? I have my kit with me, I’m sure I can do something!”
Gepard’s distinctive, but there are ways to mitigate that. To dull down all those handsome features into something that no one would look twice at. A shame, in a sense, to hide all that natural beauty, but a necessary thing. The things one does for the sake of pragmatism!
“Won’t take ten minutes.”
no subject
He throws Sampo a look of suspicion, arms folded across his chest. It makes sense that he'd offer to help out, especially when they're on the same team for once. And he's not going to lie that his features are probably too distinctive, but—
"How certain are we that you won't do something ridiculous on my face?"
He's been too wary, he knows, but he's also aware of Sampo and his tricks. The last thing he wants is to walk out of the hotel looking like a clown. That's not going to help their mission at all.
But if the guy can assure him that this will work, then Gepard will have no choice but to relent.
no subject
Well. It's not a normal day. There's an obvious benefit to having Gepard in a decent disguise and a distinct detriment to him standing out any more than he already does.
"Just look at it before we go," he says. "If you don't like it, than you can wash it off! You won't want to, though, I'm good at what I do."
He shoos Gepard towards one of the chairs, sort of flapping a hand in his general direction. "Go on, sit down."
He has to pull out all of his things; compact cases that he can store easily in the pockets of street clothes. Has much more extensive supplies in his safe houses, of course, but he keeps enough on him so that he could toss together something if need be. It isn't the best-case scenario, he could really transform Gepard if he had everything at his fingertips, but this will be enough.
He arranges things on the table next to where Gepard is sitting, sorting everything into groups-- foundation, concealers, color correctors, contour, eye palettes, an array of compact brushes and sponges.
"You know, Captain, part of the problem is that even when you're trying to look casual, you look too put-together. It's useless to tell you to loosen up, but you could try pretending to!"
no subject
And receiving a lecture from him about loosening up ...
"Am I not supposed to look put-together?"
Maybe he's simply used to making sure he looks like a decent person from the years ingrained in him by his mother about etiquette and good manners. It's a courtesy to everyone, after all, that one looks neat and tidy. Changing that part of him will take time, time they don't have if they're chasing after human traffickers.
"Or are you telling me I should look like you during this mission?"
Wearing clothes that are not at all appropriate for the cold weather, please.
no subject
Where to start? Sampo hooks a finger under Gepard’s chin, to nudge it up so that he’s looking at him, and examines his face. Granted, he knows Gepard Landau’s face very well by this point, he’s seen it on many occasions, but this isn’t just him admiring the good captain.
“It’s a bit of a shame, really. You have good bone structure. Those cheekbones! All the pretty girls must be chasing after you.”
He laughs; those poor girls, chasing after a man like Gepard. Too serious and married to his job to ever think about courting some lovely young thing. It’s a fool’s errand.
He takes a palette and starts to work. A little contour here, a highlight there, soften up that sharp jawline a little. Make that straight nose look like it has a little shift to it, like it had maybe once been broken.
“There’s nothing wrong with how I dress! But I’m not looking like me for this mission, so you definitely shouldn’t. Me, my clothes are part of the brand,” he says with a wink. “It’s part of the Sampo Koski business model.”
Outward portrayal is important! In the same way that the Silvermane uniform tells everyone who the guards are, Sampo’s particular fashion sense is part of the image of the man that he tells everyone he is. And part of that, yes, is being a man with a boob window and hip cut-outs in a blizzard.
“You think you’d be able to grow a beard…? Or at least a little stubble.” He traces his thumb along the edge of Gepard’s jaw— smooth. Either the good captain is one of those men who can’t grow facial hair to save his life, or he’s got an incredibly sharp razor and a very steady hand.
“It would help make you look not like… you.”
no subject
"There's no one chasing after me."
Or at least, that's what he knows of.
None of his men has certainly told him anything. His sister has never mentioned anything, either. And he's pretty sure he's made an impression of someone disinterested in dating or someone intimidating to be approached. It works well in many cases, especially in circumstances where he doesn't want to be disturbed.
He wrinkles his nose when he starts putting on the makeup, already feeling uncomfortable by the weight of the powders being piled on top of his skin. Is he supposed to work like this every day while this operation is underway?
At his question, Gepard's frown deepens. "No, I wouldn't be able to. Stop asking for unreasonable things."
His father never had issues, and yet, facial hair is simply something Gepard wasn't blessed with. A shame, since it would've helped him cement a sterner expression with the guards, too.
no subject
If Sampo really, really wanted to, he could have avoided Gepard more than he did. He's entirely capable of blending in, making himself disappear into a crowd, becoming an entirely different person for a while. He could hide himself better when he's in the Overworld, to keep himself from the hassle of being chased by one overzealous guard captain. Time and time again, though-- he's spotted, there's the game of cat-and-mouse. Sometimes he's caught, sometimes he escapes, every time he wins. Gepard just hasn't realized yet that 'winning' for Sampo is a completely separate thing from whether he gets arrested or not.
Winning is having those pretty blue eyes on him. Winning is Gepard's undivided attention.
So this, too, is winning of a sort. He's got Gepard's attention, without even having to commit a crime or run through the streets to get it.
"Shame," he says, referring to Gepard's chronically un-bearded face. "It'd be an easy way to change your face if you could. You're lucky, though! Every morning I could use my cheeks to sand the edge off of a board, it's a hassle."
A little more, just to really hide those Landau features. The illusion of a broader nose with a slight bend in it from an old break, a softer jawline, and...
"And you look like you could use a little more sleep every morning," he takes a light shade of concealer and dabs a little of it underneath Gepard's eyes, then blends it out. "These dark circles aren't doing your face any favors! There. That's better. I'd be able to do a better job hiding you if I had all of my things, but this should do for now."
Take a look, Gepard, and see your brand new face.
no subject
At the mention of sleep, Gepard's expression twists a little, if only because he's heard that reminder far too many times than necessary.
"I sleep for enough hours without you needing to tell me."
Who needs sleep anyway when they're currently under attack from the Fragmentum? Even when he's back in the city, there's still work he needs to address that's been left to the wayside while he's assigned to the restricted zone. There are more things he needs to worry about than losing a few hours of sleep.
Gepard turns to the mirror in the hotel room, frowning at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. He tilts his head, figuring out if it really was him who was wearing this face.
"... Not bad, Koski."
no subject
“See, you can trust ol’ Sampo to do you right!”
No, you really can’t, but he could sometimes be trusted to do what he says. The hard part is figuring out when that is.
“Your own mother would have a hard time recognizing you. I bet you could walk right past Serval and she wouldn’t even know! Ah, but we don’t have time for that.”
Shame, it could have been fun to parade Gepard around and see how many people failed to recognize him. Maybe even the Supreme Guardian herself! And then maybe Gepard would understand the appeal of going around in disguise.