[Sure, it's not that tough of a job - it's just watering plants. Gepard might have a black thumb, but he knows other people don't. But also, it's strangely...generous? It feels generous. More generous than it actually probably is. Probably.
Maybe.
But it's nice. Gepard flashes Figaro (what is his name, this is driving him nuts) a smile. A small thing. A little sheepish, maybe.]
You're cooking for me, you're helping me with my plants...if I had more room, I'd ask if you wanted to be my roommate. [...sure, roommate's a safe word. And Figaro's safe house was rather lonely. Barren. His underworld one is better, surely, or maybe he sleeps somewhere else, surely. It can't just be barren apartments with aggressively okay hot water and aggressively okay heating. He shouldn't be wondering about replacing his couch with one that has a pull-out bed.] I could clean and do the laundry in exchange for your cooking and plant-sitting. [When he's around, at least. He'd try. He'd make an effort. He'd do his best.]
But I have only one bedroom and I'm not sure about the couch, so... [So.] Maybe it's for the best.
[To be honest, there is something ever-so-slightly tempting about Gepard offering the roommates thing. He'd have a place to go that has better than aggressively mediocre amenities, the safety of living under the same roof as a relatively powerful man. But it would make it harder to run his scams literally right under the nose of the Silvermane guard captain, even if he spent decent chunks of time out of the house.]
[And there's the only one bedroom thing. While Sampo has slept on worse than a couch-- his Underworld safehouse is objectively worse and more concerning than his Overworld one-- he can get why Gepard wouldn't be comfortable with shacking him up in the living room while he sleeps in a bed. And as for splitting the bed, well. You don't share a bed with your buddies, and Gepard isn't going to be upgrading his new acquaintance to live-in fuckbuddy any time soon.]
[That's probably just called a sugar baby, actually. Might not be the worst job, being Gepard Landau's sugar baby. Sampo has heard that the Landau family is pretty much top dog on this little backwater planet, and there are worse things in life than paying for room and board with your ass. Gepard's easy on the eyes! Just also not interested in asses if they're attached to men.]
It's a generous offer! But your pal Figaro lives a bachelor's lifestyle. You'd get annoyed with me coming and going at all hours.
[So they'll stay acquaintance-friends. A perfectly fine thing for them to be! Nothing wrong with recognizing a good thing and keeping it as it is.]
This way, I only bother you when I'm sneaking into your place! [Like a stray tomcat.] You should make a habit of leaving a window open for me so I don't have to keep picking the lock.
[And at that, Gepard laughs. It's a startled little laugh, and he blinks after that noise escapes his lips because oh. Oh, he laughed. Figaro made him laugh. It's the first time in months that he laughed, and, of all the people, it was a mysterious man who drank blood (a criminal, someone he should be arresting) who surprised it out of him. He shouldn't be laughing.
But he is.]
Wouldn't it be easier for me to just give you a copy of my key? [Doesn't that make more sense?] Normally, I wouldn't even consider it. I barely even know you. I don't know your name. But you're- well. Here? It's not as if locks show any signs of stopping you. I might as well make it official.
[He takes a moment to take a drink of his coffee. (He shouldn't be happy about this. But something about how absurd everything is makes Gepard happy. It's absurd. Everything that's happening is absurd. It makes it easier to surrender to it and say things that Gepard-the-soldier shouldn't say, but Gepard-the-man can.)] But something tells me you'd prefer the challenge of a locked window to a front door and a key. Promise me that if you do decide to spend the night, you'll do your best to warn me ahead of time so I can get extra blankets for the couch.
[A laugh! It's Sampo's lucky day, he managed to get a laugh out of the stoic Captain. Gepard's face looks sweeter when he does, and he really is very handsome when he isn't being stern.]
There isn't a lock in Belobog that I can't pick. [Really, there isn't. Lock technology on this backwater planet is antiquated, stuff that's been cracked out in the wider galaxy for a few centuries. It's kind of fun, getting to pick these old styles rather than having to break through more advanced digital safeguards.] I'll try not to break any of yours!
[There will be more than one morning where Gepard will find some lock that he'd placed sitting on his kitchen table, just to let him know that it was no match for Figaro. Even if it wasn't a lock that he'd put on his house.]
I'll give you a heads up. It would be rude of me to surprise you first thing in the morning! Besides, you might hit me, and you've got a good arm on you.
[If that bottle swing when he'd tried to subdue Gepard in that back alley is any indication.]
[He tips his head at Gepard, pondering something he'd said-- a little curious gesture.]
Does it bother you that much that you don't know my name? You asked me for a fake one. [He would've given Gepard a fake one anyway, it's only sensible, but at least it wouldn't have been so out in the open.]
[One day, Gepard will find himself buying a box with an unusual lock, solely so that he can provide his...vaguely strained professional acquaintance-friend with lock enrichment, and when that happens he'll wonder about his life and his choices, where he started, what he's doing, and what he expects from surprising Figaro with a box with a weird lock. But that's in the future.
For now, Gepard lives in blissful ignorance, eating some eggs, perfectly content in being happy.
Then, Figaro asks that question, and Gepard freezes. The fork is halfway to his mouth. It indecisively hovers. Then, the captain puts it back on his plate. This is what happens when he lets down his guard. Figaro/Ringo/whatever else he might become asks a question, and Gepard's left feeling a little too seen.
But it's too late to run from the question, and he hates running, so...]
A little. [More than a little, but, a little. He can admit to a little.] But I did ask you for a fake name. I expected a fake name. I have no doubt you've committed crimes besides the ones I know about, so it would be stupid for you to give me your real name.
[And all of this makes total sense, and all of this is said in a reasonable tone of voice, and all of this is practical and is part of their arrangement. No problems here. Absolutely none.]
So it's not as if I'm...offended. [...it would be easier if he was offended, actually, anyway, fork goes up, food's shoved into his mouth, he can't talk, he's chewing.]
[One day, Sampo will find himself on the receiving end of a box with an unusual lock, bought for him because a man who should be a strained professional acquaintance-friend thought that it would interest him. He'll deal with the emotional fallout of that when he gets to it.]
[Gepard, as expected, is honest in his answers. An honest man, what a novelty. It's new to have a man who actually tells him the truth when he asks a question.]
It would be. Not that I'm confirming any crimes, mind you, but it would be silly for me to give my real name to a man who should want to arrest me.
[It's silly for him to hang around with a man who should want to arrest him, but right now, their acquaintanceship has more benefits than detriments. The arrest risk is worth having a willing juice box. Never let it be said that Sampo Koski isn't willing to risk it for the biscuit!]
[And speaking of risking it, he smiles at Gepard as a fun little idea comes into his head.]
Well, Captain, if you're not offended, how about we play a little game? [Don't you like games, Gepard? Sampo likes games.] If you can figure out my name, I'll owe you a favor. Whatever you want!
[He'll even walk himself right into a jail cell for him, fair's fair.] But if you're wrong, I get one from you.
[Figaro smiles at him; he frowns, reflexively. Instinct. He can't say he hates the idea, actually, far from, there's something about the sheer recklessness that appeals to him, of taking a favor and putting it into Figaro's hands. All for the sake of learning his name.
Gepard knows he should hate it. He really should. It's giving someone he doesn't know too much power, because he'd do his best to live up to it (at least, so long as it doesn't put the safety of Belobog in harm's way) but...
But he licks his lips, instinctively, reflexively, unconsciously.]
I have a condition before I can agree to something like that. Whatever you ask for can't harm Belobog: I can't put my duty before any games we play. [This is not a no. This is the exact opposite of a no. This is a measuring condition, said in a measuring voice. Testing the waters.]
...and wouldn't that mean I'd owe you countless favors if I constantly get it wrong?
[That answer? That answer is very definitely not a no. That's a yes in all but the most explicit terms, because Gepard is negotiating with him rather than rejecting him outright. All for the sake of learning his name! See, he knew that the good Captain could be fun, if he just had the right opportunity.]
I suppose I can agree to that! I won't ask you to abandon your duties to our fair city just for my little whims. But only for things that are a real threat! Your wounded pride doesn't count.
[There are other things that he could ask for that probably wouldn't be good for Gepard's reputation or for his pride, but also wouldn't be a direct threat to Belobog. It's still a very large leeway for him, plenty of room for him to play in.]
Of course not! That wouldn't be very fair, would it? [Sampo waggles a finger at him. Silly Captain.] You only get one shot at guessing, and if you mess it up, that's it! No name for you, and you owe me the favor. So make sure you do your homework and make it count!
[There you go, Captain-- fair's fair. Gepard can't just make endless guesses of every name in Belobog's registries until he gets a hit, and Sampo can't keep collecting favor after favor for every wrong guess.]
And you're really not worried about what I might ask for should I win?
[This is...actually kind of concerning? They're strained acquaintances. Then again, there's always the chance that Figaro-Ringo-Something Else will end up cheating, despite his promises to play fair: Gepard should probably be more worried about that.
He's not. It's more exciting than anything else. Ignorance is bliss. Willful ignorance is no less blissful, though the self-awareness that comes from knowing he's duping himself only makes it so sweet. It's like he's a new guard again and taking his chances on something a little too reckless, all for the cause of proving himself.]
Anyway, my pride doesn't matter [...probably] so I can accept those terms. It wouldn't be the first time I've lost a bet, at any rate.
Nope! Not really. The Captain is too honorable of a man to ask his good pal Figaro for anything scandalous.
[It’s unlikely that he’ll ask Sampo for anything too detrimental, since he has a vested interest in helping Sampo be the best little citizen that he can be. Sampo’s his little charity case right now, his personal passion project. Why risk all of that just for the possibility of getting him in jail for some petty crimes? Then he’d be stuck knowing about Sampo’s little dietary issue and that he’d be stuck with no option but to feed from other inmates.]
[Sampo’s interested, anyway, in seeing if Gepard is clever enough to find out his real name. It’s a good test of his resourcefulness! Whether he can root through all of the different aliases, with all their forged backgrounds and paperwork, to locate the truth amidst the lies. He has some very well forged identities in there. It won’t be easy to suss him out, even if Gepard does track down every name that he’s used.]
Oh, don’t be like that! You have a chance to win, it wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t. What’s the point of a friendly game if you’ve rigged it so that it’s only in your favor?
[A friendly game isn’t the same as a business deal. Those he makes sure are always to his benefit. But a little game? The uncertainty is part of the fun.]
You’ve got all your resources to work with, too. Plenty of busy little bees over in your intelligence department! Surely you can pull together enough information to take a good stab at ol’ Figaro’s real name.
[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.
[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.
[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...
[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.
[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.
[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.]
[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...?
[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!
[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...]
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.]
[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.
[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.
[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.
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 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...
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[Sure, it's not that tough of a job - it's just watering plants. Gepard might have a black thumb, but he knows other people don't. But also, it's strangely...generous? It feels generous. More generous than it actually probably is. Probably.
Maybe.
But it's nice. Gepard flashes Figaro (what is his name, this is driving him nuts) a smile. A small thing. A little sheepish, maybe.]
You're cooking for me, you're helping me with my plants...if I had more room, I'd ask if you wanted to be my roommate. [...sure, roommate's a safe word. And Figaro's safe house was rather lonely. Barren. His underworld one is better, surely, or maybe he sleeps somewhere else, surely. It can't just be barren apartments with aggressively okay hot water and aggressively okay heating. He shouldn't be wondering about replacing his couch with one that has a pull-out bed.] I could clean and do the laundry in exchange for your cooking and plant-sitting. [When he's around, at least. He'd try. He'd make an effort. He'd do his best.]
But I have only one bedroom and I'm not sure about the couch, so... [So.] Maybe it's for the best.
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[And there's the only one bedroom thing. While Sampo has slept on worse than a couch-- his Underworld safehouse is objectively worse and more concerning than his Overworld one-- he can get why Gepard wouldn't be comfortable with shacking him up in the living room while he sleeps in a bed. And as for splitting the bed, well. You don't share a bed with your buddies, and Gepard isn't going to be upgrading his new acquaintance to live-in fuckbuddy any time soon.]
[That's probably just called a sugar baby, actually. Might not be the worst job, being Gepard Landau's sugar baby. Sampo has heard that the Landau family is pretty much top dog on this little backwater planet, and there are worse things in life than paying for room and board with your ass. Gepard's easy on the eyes! Just also not interested in asses if they're attached to men.]
It's a generous offer! But your pal Figaro lives a bachelor's lifestyle. You'd get annoyed with me coming and going at all hours.
[So they'll stay acquaintance-friends. A perfectly fine thing for them to be! Nothing wrong with recognizing a good thing and keeping it as it is.]
This way, I only bother you when I'm sneaking into your place! [Like a stray tomcat.] You should make a habit of leaving a window open for me so I don't have to keep picking the lock.
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But he is.]
Wouldn't it be easier for me to just give you a copy of my key? [Doesn't that make more sense?] Normally, I wouldn't even consider it. I barely even know you. I don't know your name. But you're- well. Here? It's not as if locks show any signs of stopping you. I might as well make it official.
[He takes a moment to take a drink of his coffee. (He shouldn't be happy about this. But something about how absurd everything is makes Gepard happy. It's absurd. Everything that's happening is absurd. It makes it easier to surrender to it and say things that Gepard-the-soldier shouldn't say, but Gepard-the-man can.)] But something tells me you'd prefer the challenge of a locked window to a front door and a key. Promise me that if you do decide to spend the night, you'll do your best to warn me ahead of time so I can get extra blankets for the couch.
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There isn't a lock in Belobog that I can't pick. [Really, there isn't. Lock technology on this backwater planet is antiquated, stuff that's been cracked out in the wider galaxy for a few centuries. It's kind of fun, getting to pick these old styles rather than having to break through more advanced digital safeguards.] I'll try not to break any of yours!
[There will be more than one morning where Gepard will find some lock that he'd placed sitting on his kitchen table, just to let him know that it was no match for Figaro. Even if it wasn't a lock that he'd put on his house.]
I'll give you a heads up. It would be rude of me to surprise you first thing in the morning! Besides, you might hit me, and you've got a good arm on you.
[If that bottle swing when he'd tried to subdue Gepard in that back alley is any indication.]
[He tips his head at Gepard, pondering something he'd said-- a little curious gesture.]
Does it bother you that much that you don't know my name? You asked me for a fake one. [He would've given Gepard a fake one anyway, it's only sensible, but at least it wouldn't have been so out in the open.]
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For now, Gepard lives in blissful ignorance, eating some eggs, perfectly content in being happy.
Then, Figaro asks that question, and Gepard freezes. The fork is halfway to his mouth. It indecisively hovers. Then, the captain puts it back on his plate. This is what happens when he lets down his guard. Figaro/Ringo/whatever else he might become asks a question, and Gepard's left feeling a little too seen.
But it's too late to run from the question, and he hates running, so...]
A little. [More than a little, but, a little. He can admit to a little.] But I did ask you for a fake name. I expected a fake name. I have no doubt you've committed crimes besides the ones I know about, so it would be stupid for you to give me your real name.
[And all of this makes total sense, and all of this is said in a reasonable tone of voice, and all of this is practical and is part of their arrangement. No problems here. Absolutely none.]
So it's not as if I'm...offended. [...it would be easier if he was offended, actually, anyway, fork goes up, food's shoved into his mouth, he can't talk, he's chewing.]
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[Gepard, as expected, is honest in his answers. An honest man, what a novelty. It's new to have a man who actually tells him the truth when he asks a question.]
It would be. Not that I'm confirming any crimes, mind you, but it would be silly for me to give my real name to a man who should want to arrest me.
[It's silly for him to hang around with a man who should want to arrest him, but right now, their acquaintanceship has more benefits than detriments. The arrest risk is worth having a willing juice box. Never let it be said that Sampo Koski isn't willing to risk it for the biscuit!]
[And speaking of risking it, he smiles at Gepard as a fun little idea comes into his head.]
Well, Captain, if you're not offended, how about we play a little game? [Don't you like games, Gepard? Sampo likes games.] If you can figure out my name, I'll owe you a favor. Whatever you want!
[He'll even walk himself right into a jail cell for him, fair's fair.] But if you're wrong, I get one from you.
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Gepard knows he should hate it. He really should. It's giving someone he doesn't know too much power, because he'd do his best to live up to it (at least, so long as it doesn't put the safety of Belobog in harm's way) but...
But he licks his lips, instinctively, reflexively, unconsciously.]
I have a condition before I can agree to something like that. Whatever you ask for can't harm Belobog: I can't put my duty before any games we play. [This is not a no. This is the exact opposite of a no. This is a measuring condition, said in a measuring voice. Testing the waters.]
...and wouldn't that mean I'd owe you countless favors if I constantly get it wrong?
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I suppose I can agree to that! I won't ask you to abandon your duties to our fair city just for my little whims. But only for things that are a real threat! Your wounded pride doesn't count.
[There are other things that he could ask for that probably wouldn't be good for Gepard's reputation or for his pride, but also wouldn't be a direct threat to Belobog. It's still a very large leeway for him, plenty of room for him to play in.]
Of course not! That wouldn't be very fair, would it? [Sampo waggles a finger at him. Silly Captain.] You only get one shot at guessing, and if you mess it up, that's it! No name for you, and you owe me the favor. So make sure you do your homework and make it count!
[There you go, Captain-- fair's fair. Gepard can't just make endless guesses of every name in Belobog's registries until he gets a hit, and Sampo can't keep collecting favor after favor for every wrong guess.]
Satisfied? I'll play fair if you will.
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[This is...actually kind of concerning? They're strained acquaintances. Then again, there's always the chance that Figaro-Ringo-Something Else will end up cheating, despite his promises to play fair: Gepard should probably be more worried about that.
He's not. It's more exciting than anything else. Ignorance is bliss. Willful ignorance is no less blissful, though the self-awareness that comes from knowing he's duping himself only makes it so sweet. It's like he's a new guard again and taking his chances on something a little too reckless, all for the cause of proving himself.]
Anyway, my pride doesn't matter [...probably] so I can accept those terms. It wouldn't be the first time I've lost a bet, at any rate.
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[It’s unlikely that he’ll ask Sampo for anything too detrimental, since he has a vested interest in helping Sampo be the best little citizen that he can be. Sampo’s his little charity case right now, his personal passion project. Why risk all of that just for the possibility of getting him in jail for some petty crimes? Then he’d be stuck knowing about Sampo’s little dietary issue and that he’d be stuck with no option but to feed from other inmates.]
[Sampo’s interested, anyway, in seeing if Gepard is clever enough to find out his real name. It’s a good test of his resourcefulness! Whether he can root through all of the different aliases, with all their forged backgrounds and paperwork, to locate the truth amidst the lies. He has some very well forged identities in there. It won’t be easy to suss him out, even if Gepard does track down every name that he’s used.]
Oh, don’t be like that! You have a chance to win, it wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t. What’s the point of a friendly game if you’ve rigged it so that it’s only in your favor?
[A friendly game isn’t the same as a business deal. Those he makes sure are always to his benefit. But a little game? The uncertainty is part of the fun.]
You’ve got all your resources to work with, too. Plenty of busy little bees over in your intelligence department! Surely you can pull together enough information to take a good stab at ol’ Figaro’s real name.
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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.
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[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.
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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...
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[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.
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(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.
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[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.]
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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...?
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[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!
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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...]
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[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.]
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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.
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[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.
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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.
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[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.]
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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.
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