Open post

[ricochetlove]

Comments

[snowshield]

[He regrets sprawling, what the heck. It's not like he can un-sprawl, it's not as if he can take his sprawling and put it back where it came from with no one the wiser. He sprawled like he's totally confident, and then Figaro went and said that, and Gepard feels...seen. He's been feeling seen, but he's feeling incredibly seen at the moment. The fact he said a very terrible answer to a terrible question, and the fact that Figaro didn't even try to pretend like he maybe believed him.

Gepard grumps, shifting again as he gets comfortable, because he's totally comfortable and this is a conversation he's comfortable with having, and he doesn't feel too seen, shut up. He's settling in, frowning gently at Figaro as he does so. Thoughtful. Not approving. Not...disapproving, not just yet, just a frown. A completely and totally neutral frown. A captain-y frown, as he's a captain who's used to this. Shut up.]

Wouldn't that cause more problems than solve them? Someone might recognize you, or ask questions, or people might make assumptions about...well. [Well.] Our relationship. That's not to mention that I'm not always in the most accessible of places - do you really want to go to the front lines just to watch me eat?

[This also means he can nudge Figaro's knee with his own. Nudge.] I know you're a capable man and you can handle yourself, but still, that seems like a lot of work for you.

[Which brings up the question of why, because it seems like a lot of work for Figaro, for so very little reward. He wants to ask: why. But- it also feels like they did just that not that long ago.]

[ricochetlove]

[Oh, yes, Gepard, you look very captain-y right now, very scary. The conman currently known as Figaro is just shaking in his boots about it. You're a very big and intimidating man.]

[Sampo taps a finger against his chin, thinking.] Not a whole lot of people have seen me up in the Overworld! And if anyone starts asking questions, well... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let them draw their own conclusions and just not correct them.

[So what if someone thinks things about their relationship? That might make it easier, be a convenient excuse for why he's around Gepard all the time. Even if the assumption is just that it's one-sided, that Sampo is the one harboring feelings for the stoic Captain... the worst that happens is the rest of the guard feels sorry for him for all the effort he's putting in. He can handle a little misguided pity if it gets him a stable food source.]

It wouldn't be without its benefits for me! [Nudge right back.] If you're going to be a big part of my diet, than I have a vested interest in making sure that you're healthy. Investing in you is investing in me.

[Besides, Gepard's offer is useless for him if he isn't healthy enough to handle getting blood taken from him regularly, regardless of how it tastes. And his body might not be able to take too many additional stresses before he really does start getting sick, iron willpower be damned. It's kind of in everyone's interest to take care of it before it becomes a real problem.]

[snowshield]

[Okay, now he's comfortable. There's something about getting nudged right back, on his couch, in...okay, it's not his couch, but it's also his couch. At this point, it's a couch Figaro's being tentatively allowed on, and he's on thin ice. But there's something about all of this - the nudge, the couch, the situation - that just somehow shoves Gepard back into his comfort zone. It's like he went on a full circle journey, back into his comfort zone.]

Can you please say it in a different way?

[Is it too late to throw Figaro off of the couch? Seems like it. And speaking of too late: he's spent too much time in Figaro's hideaway. He should be going soon. (Will he? Probably not, but the responsible part of Gepard notes helpfully that he should probably say something like, "Let's discuss this tomorrow night." Run out the door. Track down his men. Reassure them. Go home. Scream into a pillow because he's thinking with his dick and he doesn't like this, he's not used to his dick having a say, and now it's having a say it's being very insistent with its feelings.)

But, first things first, and Gepard crosses his arms, nudging Figaro with his knee again because he has a point to make, and it's a very good point.]

Saying it like that makes me feel like I'm an olm that you're fattening for the slaughter. [See? Amazing point.] And I'll only be a part of your diet until we can come up with something more sustainable. I've no doubt you'll get tired just feeding from me.

[ricochetlove]

[That's actually an interesting thought. Would he get tired of feeding off of just one person over and over? People got tired of eating the same meals again and again, and Sampo only really has one food option anymore-- just blood. Aeons, he wishes that he could eat real food again. Pasta! Oh, how he misses pasta. Bread. Carbs in general. A good steak paired with a full-bodied red.]

[Would Gepard taste a little different if he fed him different things? Would he be sweeter after the dessert course, more savory after an entree of red meat and potatoes? Would he be able to taste spices, the pungency of garlic and onion? He'll make himself hungry (hungrier) just thinking about it.]

I've never tried just feeding off of one person before. [He's always had to find new prey with every feeding. It's hard to find people that he can trust with his secret.] Who knows, maybe you'll be so tasty that I won't want anyone else!

[Maybe, once he's on a regular diet and getting good sleep, Gepard will be the tastiest man in Belobog. He's already a dish on the outside, might as well be one on the inside, too.]

Y'know, aside from just not liking how it sounds, you didn't actually give me a good reason not to bring your meals? [That's just semantics, not a real argument.] If you don't like it, I can always stop after we get everything sorted out.

Then you can go back to-- [He waves a dismissive hand.] Slugging back day-old coffee instead of having breakfast and getting bouts of lightheadedness every time you stand up too quick from a chair.

[snowshield]

[Why does being Figaro's exclusive meal sound so tempting, why does he feel so flattered by it, why does he want Figaro to just only want him - to not be tempted by anyone else, to only want him. Besides the...thinking with his dick thing.

Actually...no, here's the better question. Why does Figaro make it sound so tempting? He bristles, something close to an annoyed cat. Figaro suggested he might not want anyone else; Gepard is unamused, nothing to see here, it's as straightforward as it seems, nothing to be seen here.]

For Qlipoth's sake...

[As if he doesn't want this. As if this deal isn't starting to feel like it's too good to be true - he gets the company of a handsome man with striking eyes, he gets fed, and he only has to give his blood every so often. He already gives his sweat, blood, and tears for Belobog's sake. How is this any different, really?

But still. Still.]

Fine. I won't say no to free meals, Figaro, but- [But.] But I won't hold you to it when you get tired of it, and don't feel like you need to feed me to get me to help you with your problem. And I won't expect you to follow me to dangerous places.

[ricochetlove]

[There's a kind of romance to it, the idea of one person that you get all of your sustenance from. It's like something from a novel, if that novel took a very generous view of vampires; one of those ridiculous cheap one-Shield romance stories where the lead was a delicate flower who swooned into the arms of a dark and sultry villainous lover. Ridiculous, but you can kind of get where they're coming from.]

[Gepard finally acquiesces to the idea, albeit with apparent reluctance. He makes it seem very much like he doesn't really want to be doing this, but that he's giving in at Sampo's insistence. On some level, he knows it's horseshit-- who would really turn down free food, delivered right to them, for practically nothing? He'd be more amused if he knew about the inner machinations of Gepard's brain, and the way he thought about his pretty eyes and handsome face.]

It's a deal, then! [He smiles and leans in. Won't you take his hand, Gepard, and shake on it?] And don't worry, I like dangerous places. I don't mind following you there.

[Ah, but if he's going to do this, than he needs information! Information is a very important thing, he knows that intimately. And he needs information quick, if he's going to start this new job.]

What do you like? [Other than handsome rogues with green eyes, apparently.] If I'm going to start feeding you, I need to know your preferences!

[snowshield]

[It's taking a great deal of restraint to keep from leaning back. He's a captain. He has the honor of the Landau family to think about. He's on a very strange man's couch, in a bad part of town. The hour is late. No one knows where he is. If Serval was here- no, Serval never would've played along with things to get to this point. If Serval had been the one handling this, there's a decent chance that they'd all be in her workshop right now - him, his sister, Figaro - and Serval would be telling him that he's a blood donor now.

...that's besides the point. Gepard's aware that if he had been born a woman, this would absolutely be the set-up for a half-Shield romance novel, one of those painted on paper so cheap they're practically translucent. He takes Figaro's hand, Figaro shoves him against the couch, things happen.

But that's not going to happen because- because. Criminal and officer of the law; guy who needs to eat people, and his blood donor. He takes Figaro's hand - firm, confident, not at all out of his depth - and then Gepard blinks at him like he's a startled child.]

My...preferences?

[What?]

You want to- [What?] You want to know what I like to eat? [Nobody asks him this. Gepard ever so slightly scoots in, because he's confused-yet-transfixed, transfixed-yet-confused, peering at Figaro curiously, with slight wonder, because what a strange question. What a strange question!] I don't think anyone's ever asked me this before. At least, not unless I'm ordering and I have to choose between two types of meat skewers...

[What a strange question...oh, wait. He knows why.] I'm not a picky eater. Don't worry, I'll eat whatever you bring.

[ricochetlove]

[Gepard looks so surprised when Sampo asks him what ought to be a really simple question-- just what he likes. Has no one ever asked this man what he likes in his entire life? It's not much, he just wants to know how Gepard takes his coffee and if he likes his eggs scrambled or over easy, if he likes his steaks medium-rare. Things that anyone who knows him moderately well would at least have an idea about?]

[Man. Just how self-sacrificing is this guy? Is he really the type to just pretend like he doesn't have any preferences, so that he doesn't feel like he's burdening anyone else?]

You're going to make me have to guess? [Sad eyes are going to start coming back into play here, Gepard, this is your own fault.] I want to bring you things that you'll like, not just what you'll choke down. Don't make it hard for your good pal. How can I bring you coffee if I don't know how you take it? Are you a pancake man or a waffle man? They're important questions!

[Only important to him and anyone else who wants to know what Gepard likes, at least.]

[snowshield]

That's unfair. [He breathes it out as the sad eyes come back into play, those are unfair, that's a dirty move, how is he supposed to resist them? He can't. He is but a man, one confronted by a sad pair of green eyes that he can't quite say no to.]

I just thought you'd find whatever's easiest... [Just whatever food cart's closest, not necessarily putting in effort besides that, why is this so...it's embarrassing, but weirdly endearing, but also flustering, and Gepard hesitates- but only for a moment.]

Pancakes if my sister Lynx is making them, otherwise waffles. As for coffee, I usually drink it too quickly to really notice anything like flavor. [Uh...] There's a lot of food out there. I don't really know what to say. [Has he said enough? Is that good?]

[ricochetlove]

[That's why he learned how to do the sad eyes, Gepard! They're unfair, a dirty play. Probably even more effective when he was younger and not a grown-ass man, but it still has its uses.]

I'm trying to make your diet better! Loading you up with more stuff from the food carts really isn't changing much, is it?

[He's going to cook for you, Gepard. Maximum effort! That'll give them the best chance of success in changing Gepard for the better, and also Sampo might be able to experiment a little with that whole flavor profile idea. It intrigues him, and it's been a long time since he's been able to have any kind of choice about what he eats. So sue him for wanting to be able to have a choice about his meals again.]

Well, that's a start, at least. I can work from there! [Lunch is still going to be a guessing game, but he'll figure something out. Same with dinner, but there are some solid recipes that are usually a hit. Can't go wrong with a good roast, not here in Belobog.] I'll need your schedule, too, otherwise I'll be running all over the place trying to find you.

[Can't deliver his lunch if he's still out on patrol or something, after all.]

We can work out those details later. It's really late, and you probably have to go back to work tomorrow. Do you wanna crash here for the night? Sleep off whatever's left in your system? [He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating to the other room.] You can have the bed. The door locks.

[Making it the safest room in the apartment.]

[snowshield]

[It's really difficult saying no to those eyes. They're very unfair. He's only known Figaro for a handful of hours and Gepard feels as though he should be better at resisting sad eyes. He should be able to turn them down! But it's difficult. So, so difficult. Green had always been his favorite color.

Figaro (one day he'll have to get his real name) says that getting food from the food carts isn't changing much, which is...fair, yes, and the captain flushes a little as he says that - a mixture of guilt and self-awareness. This does bring up a good question, which is...

Just where the hell is he going to get his food from, if not the food carts? It almost sounds as if Figaro intends on cooking for him. Which is silly and absurd, as no one would go to that much effort for a stranger, even one they have an agreement with, not when they could just get takeout and call it a day. Well.

They can talk about that later. For now, Figaro raises a good point, and Gepard grimaces as it is late, and he should get some sleep, Figaro is right. Still.]

Your couch is fine. [This is accompanied by a shake of his head: yes to staying over, no to the bed.] I'll only need a quick nap, and then I can get back to my men and reassure them that I haven't died. [And then he can take a second nap in his office, and then get back to work, see? Everything's fine.]

[ricochetlove]

[Sampo props his cheek on his fist, looking at Gepard as he totally insists that he doesn't want the bed and that he only needs a quick nap. Which also just affirms what Sampo had initially suspected-- that Gepard neither eats nor sleeps regularly. Additional data received: it's partly his own fault, out of presumably sheer stubbornness.]

If you aren't going to get a full night's rest here, wouldn't it be better for me to walk you back to your men, and then you can go home and sleep in your own bed? I'm sure you'd be able to go in a little later in the morning tomorrow, since you worked so late and got assaulted. And wasn't catching up on sleep one of the things we'd agreed would help? You could start tonight!

[Plus, if he walks Gepard back to his men and Gepard tells them that he's a good Samaritan who helped him after his assault, that would go a long way in convincing them to let him in when he comes by the Fort or to the barracks. Getting him in good with his men right from the get-go.]

Besides, a quick nap might not be enough to let the drugs wear off. You aren't reacting to them the way most people do, so I'm really not sure how long they'll affect you, or what the symptoms will be like. You wouldn't want to go in to work still affected by them, would you?

[snowshield]

[He squirms. He can't help it. He's being seen through. He knows it. Figaro's being very insistent, in a way Gepard doesn't like in part because he really, really, really likes it. It's...well. Nice. It's nice having someone not immediately defer to him (and for his well-being, no less), and having that someone not be one of his sisters.

It's also deeply uncomfortable because what the heck, if he didn't know better he'd think Figaro cared.]

...I don't want to put you out. [...and he has no idea if he can make it to the Administrative District, let alone to his apartment, without at least a nap.] It's late, and it's your bed.

[It should be noted that he's not trying to get up. Gepard has a hunch, and that hunch is that the second he gets up he's going to lose his sense of balance and have to fight off a brief bout of vertigo, and the only things in his stomach right now is half a loaf of rye bread, some dried meat, and coffee. Not the sorts of things that need to be spewed out on a floor. Instead, he just...continues to sit very comfortably and tries to project Captain confidence to the best of his ability: stoic, confident, in control, not trying to stay still lest he upset his stomach.]

Where would you go if I slept in your bed?

[ricochetlove]

[It isn't really anything personal-- it helps that Gepard's cute, of course, that always helps, but Sampo's mostly being generous because he really kind of put this guy through it tonight. Sure, Gepard's a Silvermane guard captain, but Sampo drugged him, assaulted him, and tried to eat him. And instead of being rightfully freaked the fuck out, Gepard's been trying to solve his problem for him like he's any other citizen of Belobog, and is willing to go so far as to put his own literal neck on the line. That deserves Sampo not being a complete shithead to him, ergo, offering up his bed. Plus, his bedroom door locks, so it's the only room in the apartment that Gepard could be in that he would be sure to hear it if Sampo tried to enter.]

[He wouldn't, of course, have tried to do anything while the Captain is asleep. But he also noshed on the guy's throat about twenty minutes ago, so he understands the lack of trust.]

Right here. [A simple answer to a simple question. Sampo gestures at the couch that they're both sitting on, really taking in the full expanse of its worn fabric and slightly sunken seat cushions. Truly an old, reliable workhorse of the furniture world.] It's not the first time that I've crashed on this ol' couch! Trust me, it's more comfortable than it looks.

[It isn't, really, it's probably exactly as comfortable as it looks, which isn't very. But since he's been a fugitive, he's slept in all sorts of places, many worse than this. So, relatively speaking, this really isn't all that bad of a place to crash. Anyway, one night on the couch won't kill him, even if his back and knees probably won't appreciate it.]

[snowshield]

[If the couch is more comfortable than it looks, then Figaro wouldn't have fought him as hard as he had on sleeping on it, would he? And Gepard's mouth opens to say just as much, before it closes, and then he keeps it decisively closed for a second. His jaw works, a little, as he searches for the right words, but there's really only one thing to say to that, isn't there?]

Very well.

[Gepard's nodding, and then immediately regrets it because nodding his head means moving his head, and moving his head means he's not exactly having the best time. Whew. Gepard touches a hand to his forehead, but-

Okay, the world's not spinning too badly.]

That's not what I should say, is it? What I should say is thank you. It's probably strange, given how we met, but I appreciate you looking out for me. [...that sounded- well, anyway, Gepard flashes Figaro a smile. Something small, a little fragile, a little delicate and shy, like a sunbeam through a ceiling of clouds...which quickly settles into something exasperated.

Because, as it turns out, he can't leave this unaddressed after all.]

Don't lie about the couch. We both know the truth.

[ricochetlove]

[See, look at that smile! Shy, almost demure, and almost certainly not what someone would expect out of a stalwart guardsman. But it makes his face look sweet, at least for those few moments that it's there. Like all good things, it doesn't last for very long.]

[Called out on his own couch lies.]

Okay, okay, you got me. It's not very comfortable.

[Still not the worst, but yeah, okay, it's not the best either. Man, the guy just couldn't give him a break, huh? Had to call him out.]

But you're my guest, I can't have you sleep on the couch! What kind of host would I be?

[In addition to not being a bad host, he also didn't miss that little touch to his forehead, like he'd had a sudden dizzy spell. Really proving his point about why he needs to sleep it off.] Do you need some help standing up? You were supposed to be out for a few hours, you know. You're the first person I've ever come across who doesn't go down! It's impressive, but it probably doesn't feel great on your end.

[snowshield]

[He manages to (he thinks) look kind of stern-yet-exasperated, captainish but not too impersonal, at least up until the point Figaro asks what kind of host would he be? It's at that point that Gepard's captainish reserve melts (at least a bit) because...

Yes.

Yes, that's exactly the sort of thing he'd say or do if the situation was reversed. He'd insist on the couch and having his guest take his bed, and he'd insist on it being more comfortable. That's why, when Figaro makes his offer, Gepard grimaces. It's something that would be a smile if the subject wasn't a strange man helping him to his bed, and, speaking of? Gepard's kind of...aware that if he was pinned to the bed and ravished by said strange man (a man with enchanting green eyes) he might not put up as much of a fight as he, perhaps, should.

But that's something he can worry about after a good night's sleep. For now, he just ever so slightly nods. Carefully nods. And, as established, gently grimaces.]

If you don't mind?

[And also.]

Honestly, if you hadn't made that noise when you did I probably would be fast asleep by now. [You know! The utterly disgusted noise!] That's what woke me up enough to resist it.

[ricochetlove]

[How scandalous, that the stalwart and morally upright captain of the guard might even think about being pinned to a strange man's bed to be ravished, especially a criminal's. Even more scandalous that he might not put up much resistance. Unthinkable, that he might like it.]

[But, of course, no one knows what goes on in the minds of stern captains except for those stern captains, right? So Gepard's secret is safe, so long as he doesn't tell anyone about it.]

Not at all! [Sampo stands, then offers his hand to Gepard like a gentleman would offer it to a lady that he'd asked to dance. Come on, Gepard, why don't you take his hand?]

You'd startled me! [You'd make a noise, too, if you expected to bite down into something delicious and found out that it actually tasted like an old gym sock.] Most people are asleep before I get around to biting them, though. So you're still a special boy!

[And hopefully this special boy is steady on his feet, because if he isn't? Than it's back into the conman-currently-known-as-Figaro's arms for you, to be bridal carried just like before. Let him carry you over the threshold of his bedroom like the prettiest bride in Belobog, Captain.]

[snowshield]

[He hesitates, a breath's worth of hesitation as Gepard handles. But he takes that hand. Gepard breathes out, slow and steady, as he tries to stand. He succeeds, a retort about being a special boy on his lips, but then his legs wobble like he's a baby fawn and he's not all that steady on his feet after all.

As he's swept into a bridal carry, a noise escapes Gepard's lips. A choked-out gasp that's quickly smothered as Gepard hooks his arms around Figaro's neck and immediately buries his face into the crook of his shoulder. Figaro can probably see the embarrassed flush across his ears. Probably. Hard hiding that shade of pink-red. But, Figaro can't see his embarrassed face, and that's good enough, isn't it?

Isn't it?]

Do you normally like carrying around people, or is this just another way I'm special?

[Gepard says it as dryly as he can, which is to say...not very, but an effort's very clearly being made.]

[ricochetlove]

[The good Captain is very much not steady on his feet when he stands, so up into Sampo's arms he goes-- he's remarkably cooperative about it, all things considered, and hardly even protests. Just makes a bit of a fussy noise and locks his arms around his neck, hiding his face in Sampo's shoulder as though that would cover up his blush.]

[Is it part of the interview process for being a captain, he wonders, to be so cute? Or is Gepard just special again?]

[It isn't going to be a long trip in Sampo's arms since the apartment isn't very big, but he'll enjoy every moment of it. It isn't every day that he gets to flirt with cute men, so he should take advantage of the opportunity while he has it! And, if their little arrangement keeps up, he'll have even more opportunities to make Gepard blush, what a lovely thought.]

[With Gepard's face against his shoulder, he probably can't see the smile that Sampo sends his way, the obnoxious wink.] Only the pretty ones, Captain.

[The ride on Air Figaro must come to an end, though, because he's made the very short trip across the room and into the bedroom, where the bed awaits. It is... a bed, there's really not much more to say for it-- a serviceable mattress with a serviceable amount of somewhat threadbare blankets and a lonely pillow, sitting on a common metal frame. A small bedside table that probably was there when he got the apartment, with a lamp that... mostly functions as intended, even if it has the unfortunate habit of switching itself off unexpectedly. A small chest of drawers against one wall, which, if Gepard got nosy, he would find mostly empty, save for a couple of spare sets of clothes and a few other odds and ends. A mostly spartan bedroom that's more a place to sleep than it is a place to live.]

Here we go. [Gepard is deposited onto the mattress.] Do you want something to change into? We're pretty close to the same height, you'd probably fit into my things.

[He probably has a shirt and a pair of sweatpants or something around. Something that would be sufficient to use as sleeping clothes, if Gepard didn't want to sleep in his street clothes.]

[snowshield]

[Being called pretty gets him to make another fussy noise, and mumble something that suspiciously sounds like a denial, but isn't all that articulate because it's being said into a guy's shoulder. Disregard it, it probably doesn't matter. It's just a disgruntled noise. It's not important.

What matters is that Gepard's deposited onto a bed, in a room that makes him...feel something. It makes him feel a thing. He has feelings about the room. And so forth and so on. Those feelings can be examined later, at leisure, not now, when he's on the bed. It's a place to exist, and he'll exist on it, and if he ignores his blush it'll surely go away.

He's asked a question, and Gepard blinks at his host, the very gracious Figaro with strange dietary needs, as he considers it...]

If it's not too much trouble. [Then.] You really want me to be comfortable. If I didn't know better I'd think you'd want me to come back. I feel like I'd be letting you down if I don't have the best sleep I've had all week.

[At this rate he'll be conked out until mid-morning.]

[ricochetlove]

[Want him to come back? To this minimalist shithole? Sampo makes a short noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.]

If I was trying to impress you, the room would be nicer.

[He'd rent a room at the Goethe or something, bring him someplace that at least had a bed big enough to comfortably fit two people on without one of them laying directly on top of the other. A room that actually had decor rather than a few pieces of mismatched furniture. He'd only brought Gepard here because he'd had no other option, not because he wanted the guy to see his barebones safehouse.]

[But, he also wants those clothes, so Sampo will dig through his drawer until he finds a slightly oversized t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. The shirt probably once had a logo on it, but it's faded so much after so many washes that it's basically unreadable; the fabric is soft, in the kind of way that fabric only gets after having been worn for years. But it'll do for his purposes, and Sampo hands off the bundle to Gepard.]

Here. If you want anything else, well, I probably don't have it! [He shrugs. This is the extent that his hospitality can extend to.] I don't really live here, you know?

[snowshield]

[He has...complicated feelings upon hearing that scoff-laugh, a mix of shame and relief and something else. Shame: that he let himself imagine, for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, Figaro might be kind of, sort of trying to be nice to him. Not just out of obligation. Or...trying to manipulate him into not pressing charges. That maybe the flirting wasn't just to mess with his head, mindgames.

But also, relief: Figaro's sense of somewhere nice wasn't this shithole of a room. Because it's not exactly...it's very plain? Servicable. But also very plain and barren, and bleak, and if he had to live here Gepard wouldn't be able to take it.

He takes the bundle...]

Thank you.

[...and gets to taking off his shirt because they're both men, this is undoubtedly nothing that Figaro hasn't seen before, he's used to having to strip around other people. (Training means shared locker rooms, Gepard had long since stopped being shy about certain things.)]

I'm glad to hear that...I'd be worried if you lived here. I'd feel like I'd have to get you new furniture, at the minimum.

[And, sure. He's not going to peel off his pants right then and there for a few reasons, one being that he'd have to either stand or writhe on the bed to shimmy off what he was wearing, and that seemed like a mess in front of Figaro, but also he can burn that bridge when the time comes because like hell was he going to skip wearing sweatpants to bed in favor of his disguise, absolutely not.]

[ricochetlove]

[The Captain looks nice with his shirt off, and he apparently has zero issues with stripping down regardless of company. Sure, it's not like Sampo's getting a long look at his muscular chest, but it's a nice view while he has it. Maybe he'll find out whoever wrote the training regiments for the guards and send them a thank-you card.]

[He gets a weird little feeling when Gepard so casually mentions that he'd be worried if he thought that Sampo lived here-- that he'd feel obligated to make it better. The real, honest truth of it? He doesn't live here, but he doesn't really live anywhere. He's got a safehouse in the Overworld and one in the Underworld, and they're both just places to sleep. Places that he could immediately abandon if the guards got too close, or if an angry mob showed up with torches and pitchforks, and lose nothing. Travel light and always carry cash, that's the wise words that he lives by these days. So, arguably, this is the better of his two places to crash, if only because all housing in the Overworld tends to be better than the Underworld.]

[But, like, he's not going to tell Gepard that. Aside from the fact that he literally just met the guy, it's really not his life goal to be super pathetic at every hot man that he meets.]

[He leans against the doorframe and plasters a grin on his face.] Oh, I didn't know that you were offering to be my sugar daddy and my blood donor. You're really a catch! Lucky me.

[It's about time for Gepard to get those pants off. You going to tell him to leave, Gepard? Because depending on how riled up he can get you, it might be worth it to stick around for a second just to see the blush.]

[snowshield]

[There's a lot of things he'd expected from this situation. Figaro leaning against the doorframe with a stupid grin on his face somehow wasn't one of them? Which is stupid. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. There's no reason why Figaro would just leave, even if normal people would. Figaro's not normal. He drinks blood.

Gepard makes a face, grabs for a pillow like he's going to lob it at his head, and then doesn't because...all things considered, Figaro does seem like the sort of guy who'd take the pillow with him, forcing the captain to stagger after it or acknowledge it's gone.]

Sugar daddy? [???????????????????

...wait, he's got a slightly odorous shirt he just took off he can throw at Figaro. Gepard does that. Just fucking lobs it at his head.] Call me that again and I'll be rethinking not arresting you.

[And then the captain glances down at his pants, quick, and then glances up at Figaro. He's clearly changed his shirt. Old shirt went off (and was viciously thrown at Figaro's head), new pajama shirt on. There's clearly a next step, and Gepard's lack of shame (a body is just a body, why would anyone care to look at him?) only goes so far.

Gepard doesn't say the obvious, because why would he need to say the obvious? It's so obvious. He does raise his eyebrows, though, a little expectantly. Because clearly this is the point in which conmen should be going, yes? This is something understood, not something that needs to be said.]

Well?