[The literal most obvious guess that could have ever been guessed. Who would have thought that Gepard Landau, Belobog's most overworked guard captain, could possibly be a little exhausted from his unfathomable hours on duty? No one, surely!]
[Sampo walks over and takes the large jar from Gepard; it's a little ugly, sure, but it's big enough for the bouquet and that's really all that matters. Kind of looks like one of those jars that someone's grandmother might use to jar vegetables or something.]
That'll do. [He goes back to the sink to cut the ends off of the flower stems, so they can soak up some water, and fills up the jar. In go the flowers, and voila! Bouquet in a jar. It has a certain rustic charm to it, or it would if Belobog had any concept of quaint country folk. Either way, it's a little cute in its own way. Sampo hands the whole thing back to Gepard.]
Go put that on the table, it'll look nice there. [Off you go, be a good boy.] And since you're supposed to be taking care of yourself for the next few days, why don't you go take a shower before dinner?
[Then he'd be all nice and clean for dinner, and he probably really needs a shower after a full day of doing... whatever it is that a Silvermane guard captain does. It's probably physical and sweaty, he's wearing all of that armor and probably has to run drills or something with the recruits. Sampo doesn't know, it all sounds terrible to him.]
[...yeah, the jar might've held some pickled vegetables once upon a time. He ate them, was left with a perfectly decent pickling jar he couldn't bear to throw out, but what was he supposed to do with it? He doesn't know how to pickle things. But at least the jar doesn't smell like vinegar, right?
Right.
The jar is placed on the table. And it looks nice. Homey. Like his apartment is somewhere he spends time in, instead of a place he briefly exists in before heading off to his duty, whatever form it might take that day. At the suggestion of a shower, Gepard half-turns towards Figaro.]
Are you sure you don't need my help with anything? [And then Gepard sniffs his arm, his nose wrinkles, and technically? Technically he hadn't had a shower since...a long while. He'd taken a morning- not even a shower, a rinse, went to work, changed, marched along the streets of Belobog, ran into Figaro/Ringo/Name-o, got...assaulted, slept over at his place, woke up, went back to work, and now he's here.
So while he's not filthy, sort of, he does have a bit of a presence. Somewhat of a presence. An olfactory presence that's not as crisp and as clean as one would expect from Captain Landau.]
If you don't, I'll take you up with that, with my apologies.
I’ve got it all covered here! [He waves a dismissive hand in Gepard’s direction as he turns back towards the stove.] Go get clean. You’ve had a long day!
[What’s better after a long day than a warm, relaxing shower? Well, a delicious dinner that you didn’t have to prepare, probably, and would you look at that— Gepard’s getting that, too. Even if your day was hard, your evening is shaping up pretty well.]
[While Gepard takes care of his personal hygiene, Sampo finishes up dinner; beef tenderloin smothered in buttered balsamic mushrooms with dauphinois potatoes, and a chard salad on the side for something green. Hydroponic greens are expensive, Captain, so he expects you to eat all of it! No skipping on the leafy vegetables just because you’d like the meat and potatoes better.]
[It also just so happens to be a good meal for the very slightly anemic— good sources of iron, vitamin C in the chard to help with absorption. Gepard had tasted like he could use the iron when Sampo had bit him.]
[When he emerges from the shower, dinner will be plated and ready for him, with two glasses; water and red wine. How can you have a beef dinner without a full bodied red to go with it?]
[Unfortunately, Sampo can’t eat a bit of his own cooking. He’ll just have to sit at the table and watch Gepard enjoy it all, and hopefully get a little good feedback about it. Is the tenderloin how he likes it? Are the dauphinois potatoes cheesy enough? Does he like the red, or does he prefer a crisp white even with red meat? Important things for Sampo to know and live vicariously through.]
[With all the presence of a dog retreating with his tail between his legs, Gepard goes to the shower. Because he's suddenly feeling self-conscious about a lot of things, not least of which is the fact he's got a mysterious stranger cooking for him, and he needs time to process this. Him. Them, as in the two of them as a surprisingly domestic pair. All of this. Because a lot has happened, and if Figaro is trying to poison him he's taking an incredibly roundabout route, so-
And the only thing he has to offer is his foul-tasting blood, so-
So. Gepard takes a shower, delighted to discover there's still hot water, as after a certain point in the day it's more of a 50/50 coin flip; warm shower or a lukewarm shower that he has to rush through. He sings as he does so, not with the full-voiced confidence of a born singer delighting in the acoustics of a shower, but with the absent-mindedness of a guy who is still processing this turn of events and needs something to do with his mouth. One of his sister's songs, probably. He doesn't pay attention to that.
He gets out.
Dressing, as it turns out, is far more complicated as Gepard's forced to realize that he doesn't remember the last time he dressed down in front of anyone who wasn't also a Landau. It's one thing to wear a stupid sweater in front of Serval, especially when she got it for him and has two matching ones for her and Lynx; it's another to wear sweatpants in front of Figaro...but also, Figaro's going to feed from him, isn't he? Maybe? And if he does, he should wear something he won't mind getting messy should it come to it...
He's overthinking things. He's definitely overthinking things. He puts on pants. He puts on a shirt. Gepard re-emerges, and is slapped in the face by beef tenderloin, and potatoes, and...]
Is that... [It can't be.] ...chard?
[Where the hell did Figaro get the greens from in this city? Gepard sits, a bit stunned? A bit shell-shocked? He sort of sits down in his chair with a thump as he stares it all. He picks up a fork and pokes at the beef tenderloin half-expecting it to become a Fragmentum monster, and then he'll blink and discover he's on the streets of Belobog and everything from 'this guy tried to drink my blood and then take me to see a doctor'-onward is a dream.
It remains beef.]
This looks...amazing- where did you- how di- [No, he should start from the top, shouldn't he?] Thank you. [That's the important part, isn't it? And here's the other important part: he cuts off a small piece of beef tenderloin, and takes a bite-] It's delicious... [It is delicious, but how does a guy who exclusively drinks blood learn how to cook? So many questions.]
[Gepard sings in the shower. He doesn’t sing well, exactly, but it’s an endearing thing regardless— the faint sound of off-key singing echoing in a tile room. Very domestic.]
[It’s strange to see the Captain so dressed down when he gets to the table, even stranger to see the look on his face— the man could take learning that there’s a bloodsucking monster in Belobog, but is shocked by a salad. And, sure, it’s hard to find leafy greens on a planet stuck in eternal winter, but there are a few hydroponic gardens that grow the few that have survived on this planet. Chard, obviously, being one of them.]
You’re welcome. [Good boy, good manners.] Glad you like it!
[The beef is so tender that cutting it with a knife is really just a formality, the richness cut a little by the acidity in the balsamic mushrooms. It is still very stick-to-your-ribs kind of food, but when you’re running around all day in the winterlands, you probably need the insulation. It’ll be good for him, Gepard could probably stand to gain a pound or two.]
If you have any feedback, I’d like to hear it. I can’t taste things as I go, so I’m kind of relying on memory and guesswork!
[Don’t mind him as he watches you eat. It’s just a little bit out of envy, it’s fine.]
[The first thing that comes to mind, which is that he absolutely would love nothing more than to pin Figaro to a wall and make out with him, is something that comes to Gepard's mind and he takes that thought, metaphorically folds it in half, stuffs it into a back drawer, and closes it. He'll just tell himself he never had that thought and keep things from getting weird.
...weirder. Weird is already unavoidable.]
You're incredible. [He just breathes that out.] You did all this from memory? The meat's so tender, the chard- [No hesitation there. Chomp.] It's fresh. Fresher than what I had even when I still lived with my parents.
[(It's not, but at the moment he's a bit overwhelmed.)] And the only thing I can offer you is me... [Well.] I'll make it up to you, I promise.
[He doesn't realize it, but at the moment Gepard wishes they had televisions so he had an excuse to invite Figaro to sit on the couch later as they watch something-or-another. He doesn't recognize the need - Belobog doesn't have televisions - but if he did discover those existed in general? He'd say yes. Yes, that's the nameless urge I felt there, that's what I wanted. I really wanted to cuddle on the couch with a blood-sucking weirdo and watch something.
As he doesn't know what a TV is, Gepard just feels a nameless need rise up inside of him.]
I'll think of something.
[The wine? Also amazing, but maybe that's because he spent the last whatever eating guard food and then eating instant noodles when he couldn't hit up a cafeteria.]
I know a guy who has a hydroponic garden, and he owed me a favor.
[Said guy also uses most of that hydroponic system to grow… things that are not chard, but he did keep a section of it for his own food-growing use. Calling in a favor for fresh greens is maybe a little much, but it’s kind of worth it for the look on Gepard’s face. And it’ll do him some good to get some roughage in his diet.]
[Gratitude really is a good look on Gepard. Sampo smiles at him, enjoys the feeling of having an influential man be so appreciative.]
I wasn’t always on a liquid-only diet, you know.
[It’s a relatively recent development in the history of Sampo, though he’ll spare Gepard the gory details. The less he knows, the better. The less chance that he’ll get caught in the web of bullshit that surrounds him.]
[Unaware of Gepard’s weird, cuddling-based urges brought on by some domesticity and a really good tenderloin, Sampo takes his gratitude at face value.]
Even if you aren’t back to a hundred percent, you are giving me a meal. We’re pretty close to even.
[He props his chin on his hand, and his elbow on the table. Poor manners, but Gepard has the table manners of a starving guard, so it’s fine.]
Oh, that reminds me. I have dessert for you, too, if you want it.
[Panna cotta with caramel sauce, in the refrigerator. Though he probably could’ve satisfied Gepard’s palate with rye soda and yogurt and saved himself the trouble.]
You got me dessert? [He breathes it out. If it wouldn't be weird this would be the point in which he'd ask Figaro to go on a date with him. Thing is, that would be weird, Figaro probably wouldn't be interested and it would be terrible if he used Figaro's strange...dietary needs to coerce him into something unwelcome. Besides. Gepard has no idea how to take anyone on a date.
How do dates work? What do people do on dates? He doesn't know.
Besides, their relationship is founded on mutual need, or something, and Figaro/Ringo/Something Else happens to have a very unique dietary requirement, so probably he shouldn't let himself get carried away.]
I'd love to try it. [What the heck.] And then I'll feed you, as promised...I'm sorry for making you wait.
[What the heck, why does he feel so special thanks to a guy who wants to bite him and drain his blood, of all the people in Belobog the person making him feel special is the guy with terrible dietary needs who...
Apparently didn't always have to drink blood? Much to consider. He'd have gone on the attack but beef and chard (greens!) had a way of distracting a guy from the point.]
[It’s a small but important distinction! Anyone could go out and buy a dessert, but ol’ Sampo took the time to make one for you. Granted, panna cotta isn’t a very difficult dessert, so it wasn’t much of a bother, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Plus, he wants a little test run of his theory that Gepard will taste different if he feeds him differently. Maybe after a sugary dessert, he’ll be sweet instead of bitter.]
[And Gepard’s reaction is adorable. Worth the trouble for that alone.]
I’ll get it for you once you’re done with the main course.
[If Gepard had had the nerve to ask him about date adjacent things… who knows? Maybe he’d have said yes. Maybe he’d have said no. Maybe he’d have been the voice of reason and told Gepard that it was a stupid idea to get so close to a thing that saw you as dinner.]
[He even apologizes for making Sampo wait. The Captain is too good a man for his own self preservation, and it’ll get him in trouble one of these days.]
I’ve been waiting a few weeks. What’s another few minutes? [He assumes that Gepard’s already worked out the timeline, since he knows when Sampo’s victims were found and when the blood shortage started.] Besides, we want you as tasty as you can be, right?
[And theoretically, that would be after he’s all full up on tenderloin and greens and dessert— the latter of which Sampo will helpfully bring out once he’s nearly done with the rest of his plate.]
There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry, too.
[He’d given Gepard pretty hearty portions in anticipation of his appetite, but there’s more if he wants it. And enough that Sampo has ideas for tomorrow’s lunch, for the leftovers.]
[It is an important distinction, one important enough to make Gepard's mouth hang ever so slightly open, his eyes widen ever so slightly. If Figaro followed that up with a ring and a proposal, the answer wouldn't be a no: it wouldn't be a yes, but it wouldn't be a flat refusal either. It would be a third, uncertain thing, because he would have to think about it.
Because it's probably a very stupid move to get close to someone who saw him as dinner, but unfortunately that someone's very convincing, and has very nice eyes? He should be asking, "Hey, aren't you the con artist which was taking advantage of my sister, she mentioned a guy named Ringo, it sounded like your story."]
You said you didn't always have your liquid diet.
[He says this instead, carefully, hoping that- diplomacy was never something Gepard had been good at. His strategies involved punching things, not making the guy who drinks blood and makes amazing food sad.]
What changed- I'm sorry. I know this is a personal question. [...this would be so much easier if Figaro was a Fragmentum monster and all he had to do was punch him five times. Gepard sighs, tries to cover with a sip of the wine- and it's good wine, what the heck.
...what had he been saying- oh, right.] I suppose I just need to know if others can...change, much like you did.
[There's a difference between being a con artist who happens to be in a band with your sister and conning your sister, Gepard! But that's a moot point until he brings up the questionable past of Ringo, former bassist for Mechanical Fever.]
[Instead, he brings up Sampo's casual comment about not always being a people-eater, and out of those two questions, Sampo would've probably rather had to field the Ringo thing than this. But it's really a pretty fair question, especially since Gepard's offered up his neck. Regardless of the tasty dinners, Sampo's probably still on the indebted side of this equation, what with all the favors that Gepard has done him between being his personal juice box and not immediately turning him in.]
No, it's fine. Of course you have questions! It's only fair for me to answer some of them.
[Some, not necessarily all. With probably a healthy dash of selective omission for Gepard's own sake.]
What happened to me is... really rare. There won't be another person in Belobog who's got it. [He's certain of that. He'd know if there was another Emanator hanging out on this planet.] And it's not communicable, so you don't have to worry about catching it, either!
If you want, you can think of it like an illness, or a curse. [He laughs.] Like cancer, or something. I'll have it 'til I die but thankfully I'll be keeping it to myself.
[Gepard remains relatively stoic and somewhat stern - at least, as stoic and as stern as he can while having a fucking amazing dinner and feeling full and warm and happy (feelings that he's suddenly oh so aware that Figaro/Ringo/Name-o hasn't enjoyed for quite some time, probably) - up until the point that Figaro compares whatever-it-is to an illness. Or a curse. That's when Gepard can feel his face slip, a bit. He stares at Figaro, and then glances down to his food.
It's delicious food. His fork plays with a bit of meat, moving it back and forth for a moment, chewing his lip and unaware of that as he thinks. Then, Gepard glances up again at Figaro.]
I'm sorry to hear that.
[What else can he say? He has more questions, like how is Figaro so sure that he's the only one, what had happened to him, how had he acquired this...condition? But, they can wait.
For now.]
That can't have been easy to adjust to. How have you- [He hesitates, and Gepard wants to scoot closer but he can't - there's a table in the way - but he leans towards Figaro ever so slightly. The fucking table is in the way, for-
Actually, probably the table being in the way is a good thing to prevent whatever-that-was that he wanted to do. That bit of meat he had been playing with gets shoved into Gepard's mouth. Chew, bite, swallow.] If others know about your...condition, something would have happened. I would have heard about it. The Silvermane Guard would have been called in. How have you hid it for so long...?
[Gepard doesn't push too much about the acquisition of said illness-like condition, because, well... it would be a little hard to explain to him. Most people don't react too well to being told that a god-like being leveled its gaze upon him and bestowed him with a sliver of divinity, and divinity apparently comes with the added price tag of drinking blood. Sorry, Gepard, sainthood isn't all its cracked up to be.]
[Gepard continues to eat, to ruminate, to ask his questions. Sampo briefly considers dropping a bomb under the table as an exit strategy, because an unconscious guard captain can't ask uncomfortable questions, but that would probably ruin this whole thing that they've got going on, and he really needs a stable food source.]
There are other people who know, but I'd appreciate it if you don't ask too many questions about them. They help me out sometimes, and I don't want them catching any heat for it.
[Natasha, specifically-- she's got enough on her plate without having any guardsmen poke around because she sometimes gives blood to a hungry man. Sampo suspects that Seele has noticed that he's strange, though he's not sure if she's caught on to exactly how, but she still works with him. So either she's aware and has decided that his services are useful enough to excuse it, or she's unaware but still has decided that his services are useful enough to not look further into it.]
I've stayed hidden because the only other people who know are people who won't rat me out to the guard. They're good folks!
[And that whole thing about how he goes about getting his food helps. People are way more sympathetic about his unfortunate dietary restrictions because he's about as close to non-violent as you can get with his issues-- nonlethal, eating as infrequently as possible, taking blood bags over fresh whenever possible. It bought him goodwill with Natasha, and that was a valuable connection to make.]
[He sometimes misses the Tavern, how easy it was to have a meal whenever he wanted it. He is an Emanator of their Aeon, and to be a meal for him was a joy and an honor; he barely even had to ask. And if you were going to be a meal for any of Aha's chosen, he's the better one, anyway-- the one that wouldn't leave you an inch from death. But here he is, having to make deals with guard captains to have a regular blood donor. How the mighty have fallen, or something like that.]
[There's more important things he should be focusing on, he knows: who are Figaro's accomplices, how do they help/"help" him, how did Figaro acquire his condition, why is he so sure that he's the only one? Questions upon questions upon questions. He does remember that those questions exist, and they're important, and knows that if he was doing his job as a Silvermane Captain he'd be asking every last one and not relenting until he gets an answer.
...but. And this will haunt him, but, but.
But Figaro had ample opportunity to have dealt with him in some final fashion, one way or another, and chose not to. Repeatedly. The food could have been drugged, but he ate the sandwich, drank the soda, devoured the meat and lost himself in the potatoes and relished the greens.]
Just so you understand, I'm not letting you off of the hook simply because you're feeding me, Figaro. I have to understand your situation if I'm to deal with it in a way that keeps Belobog safe. [He says this at last, in a low voice, just so Figaro knows he's quite serious about the fact he's still very quite suspicious and is duty-minded and devoted to Belobog. Because he is. If he has reason to believe Figaro is a threat to the people (a true, genuine threat out of choice, one who can't be accommodated or reasoned with), he won't hesitate, bitch.
...then, a little bit quieter, a softer confession:]
But I'm glad you don't have to face whatever it is that you do have all by yourself. [Because maybe a very lonely safehouse makes a guy wonder. Because maybe a very lonely safehouse makes a guy a little bit sad to think about. Maybe because Figaro's proving to have more time on his hands than a guard might expect. Because maybe a guy's wondering if he should get tickets to a play - not the big, fancy theater but a smaller one where it's less likely he'd be recognized as Captain Landau and more like 'hey he kind of sort of looks like that one captain guy,' see a comedy, are there any good comedies? Much to consider.
But that's besides the point, for now.]
Can I try that dessert? Or did I ruin the mood? I'm sorry if I did.
[Gepard’s using his serious voice, like he’s some recruit that the Captain can be stern at and forced into line. Really, if he wanted to, Sampo could have just killed him. He’s an Emanator and Gepard is, unfortunately, just a mere mortal man. A lovely mortal man, a very excellent specimen, but still far from the same weight class as ol’ Sampo. If he were the type to resort to violence, he could have crushed that pretty little throat of his on about four or five separate occasions by now. ]
[Instead, he’s sitting across the dinner table from him, preparing his meals.]
If I was going to be a danger to Belobog, don’t you think you’d know by now?
[Especially if Gepard is operating under the assumption that Sampo is a Belobog native. And he has been on planet for a few years, flying under the radar, but the good Captain doesn’t know that he had years to get used to his condition before he ever arrived on the planet.]
[And as for the sentimental things, well… best to let Gepard think whatever would make him the most sympathetic towards him.]
[Sampo stands.]
Sure, Captain. Let me get it for you.
[He gets it from the refrigerator, sets it before the waiting Captain— panna cotta with caramel sauce, the final course. Go ahead, enjoy it, Sampo will just wait from his seat across the table.]
Since we’ve been playing twenty questions… why haven’t you turned me in yet? That’s probably what all your little oaths say you should do.
[He supposes he deserves the question after asking Figaro a few of his own, and yet, Gepard almost wishes that something would happen so he wouldn't have to answer it. Like a Fragmentum opens up in his apartment, and he's too busy fighting off those monsters to answer questions like why is he hesitating, bitch?
That doesn't happen. Instead, dessert is placed before him, and it looks delicious. It's a fight to keep from staring. And, well, doesn't that deserve an honest answer? Hasn't Figaro done enough to deserve an honest answer to that question? He has.
So, Gepard inhales. Exhales, slow, looks at Figaro in the face.]
They do. If I wanted to honor my oath, I should have turned you in the moment you attacked me.
[He can admit that. He knows what he should've done.] ...but I don't think you're a danger to Belobog. Just a man in a bad situation, doing what you must to survive.
How lenient of you. Are you as generous with every thief and pickpocket who might have fallen on hard times?
[Everyone has a sob story. There probably isn’t a single person that Gepard’s arrested who wouldn’t have been able to tell him any number of tragic tales about why they had to break the law, and some of them might have even been true! But he didn’t let them off light. He still did his duty, let them bring their sad stories to the Architects for arbitration.]
[So why is Sampo the exception? Is it because his situation is so strange?]
Even if you didn’t want to put me in prison…
[The same thought that Gepard had before occurs to him— if he’s not going to be tossed in a prison cell, he could be tossed into a specimen cage. A curiosity to be studied, for doctors to poke and prod. Possibly a worse fate than just being thrown into a cell and left to rot.]
[Not that he’d stick around in either a prison cell or a laboratory, anyway. He’d be out of there and off-planet before Gepard would even have the chance to chase him down again, and he’d blacklist Jarilo-VI for good. Planet non grata, never coming back.]
[He blushes. It's a fierce little blush as Figaro continues to mercilessly prod and push and question...because he knows Figaro's right. He'd throw him before the Architects without hesitation. He'd toss him into a jail cell without a second thought if that was the only thing the both of them would have to worry about. And Figaro would, most likely, fucking deserve it.]
If you want me to throw you into prison that badly, that can most certainly be arranged, Figaro.
[A little angry emphasis there. Figaro. A fake name and they both know it, and what a terrible name it still is. Because if he blusters enough, it'll be enough to keep him from going too far on the defensive. Maybe. In theory. He understands preservation, but he can't just defend if he wants to win this...
Whatever they're having.]
And- [He points with his fork. Point.] You have committed enough crimes to deserve some time in a prison cell. We both know it. But if I end up throwing you in prison, it will be with you seen as a man and not as a monster, and I will be handling this situation personally until I can be sure others will see you in the same way I do.
[Gepard points his fork in Sampo’s direction, a sharp little jab to emphasize his points. It’s spectacularly rude, absolutely abhorrent behavior from a man of supposedly refined breeding. A bit much even for a rough guardsman, really.]
[It’s true that he’s caused the guard no end of trouble in various ways, possibly more than Gepard is currently aware of— Sampo’s got a lot of aliases. There’s more than just Ringo and Figaro— there’s Dio and Bono, too, and of course Brughel. A few others that he hasn’t used as often, he ran a few small scams as Gilmour, but it never felt quite right.]
[But the good Captain wants him locked up as a man rather than a monster, Aeons know how he’d manage to pull that one off. Sampo could single-handedly save Belobog from certain destruction and they’d still see him as a monster. He could be the chosen of Qlipoth Themself.]
If that’s what you want, you’ll be stuck with me for a long time, Captain. People around here are pretty set, once they make their minds up.
[The Preservation at work, or just naturally stubborn folk? Who knows.]
I guess you’ll just have to get used to my pretty face!
I guess so. [What's notable is how he says it - not as sheepish agreement, or something wary, or reluctant. Gepard says it like it's a fact they just agreed on, and he's glad that Figaro finally got the message. He even raises his head ever so slightly, a very stubborn clench to his jaw.] I'm just as determined as anyone else here once my mind is set, you know.
[Because he is a Landau, and the stubbornness that characterizes the people of Belobog runs very, very, very strongly through his veins. Because when a Landau wants to do something, they go for it, without hesitation, letting nothing stand in their way.
And unfortunately, he wants a man with enchanting green eyes to be seen as that - a man - which means getting to know him a little bit better.
...this is not a good thing. He knows this. Gepard gets to eating dessert- and he has to take a moment to savor the taste because it's amazingly delicious. Surprisingly so. Astonishingly so.
...okay. Figaro being stuck with him is settled, he's eating the dessert, after this he'll take off his shirt and let Figaro...feed, and that leaves-]
What are you doing tomorrow? I don't know what to do with myself and my time off. [Only for a day or two, it's only a brief amount of PTO. He'll be contacting Lady Bronya soon enough and getting this straightened out.] It'll be easier to relax if I have company.
[Sampo has to make his brain switch gears from Gepard’s quixotic quest to have him recognized as a real boy in the eyes of Belobog to… what he’s doing tomorrow. Part of his plans are going to involve Gepard by necessity, since he’s the man’s on-call personal chef now, but aside from that? It would have been getting his nose back to the grindstone, finding ways to make that cash so that he can pay the rent on his safe houses and that sort of thing.]
[A little banal, maybe. If he was lucky, Nat would send him a text and ask him to do a little smuggling for her, that would liven up his life a little. But Gepard apparently wants to hang out with him or something?]
Nothing concrete, other than making your meals.
[Well, this is as good an excuse as any to take a hard pivot from the serious discussion they’d been having. Really brings down the mood, talking about how the whole city would want to run you out of town with fire and pitchforks.]
Anybody you could ask, and you want to hang around with little ol’ Figaro? [A grin, a wink.] How could I refuse? It would be a pleasure to help you relax, Captain.
[Were the good Captain the type, he might have been persuaded to really help him relax, in ways that would certainly make Gepard blush right to the roots of his blond hair. (He’d be delicious after that— but naughty Sampo, hands off the handsome man who doesn’t swing that way.)]
[The grin makes Gepard splutter. The wink makes him blush. Figaro calling it his pleasure doesn't help and he shovels dessert into his mouth with determination because eating some sugar will keep his mouth from saying stupid things and making this spiral in uncomfortable directions.]
Please don't say it like that.
[Because Figaro offering to help him relax has his mind spiraling in directions it shouldn't go in. He has the advantage; Figaro is at his mercy. He wouldn't want to pressure Figaro into something he'd hate, something they'd both regret, probably, maybe. Figaro probably didn't even mean it like that in the first place.
And also because there's not really anyone he can ask besides Figaro. Which reminds him...]
We'll have to avoid my family. My sister will have questions if she sees you with me, Ringo.
[Gepard knows the name that he used in his short-lived stint as a bassist— but that’s absurd, there’s no way that he ever went to any of the concerts. He’s not the type to be into rock and roll music, he’s the kind of guy who thinks an exciting night is staying up an hour past bedtime with a good book.]
You… did you talk to Serval?
[Now that he thinks about it, if Serval had more of a stick up her ass or if Gepard loosened up a little, they’d look pretty similar, wouldn’t they? Like siblings, maybe.]
You’re the brother that put in a bad word for me! [He can’t believe it, he was booted out because a nosy guard captain couldn’t help but butt in to his sister’s business.]
I can’t believe it, you messed up my whole deal! I’d finally talked her into paying me a fraction of the ticket sales, and you got her to drop me!
[That money would’ve paid for months of his rent, and it all vanished just because of one overprotective little brother. Sampo sighs and props his chin on his hand, slumping a little.]
Guess l’ll have to retire the Ringo alias now, too. Hate to burn a good one, but it’s compromised.
[He’d had a good history on Ringo, all the paperwork and everything. Now he’ll have to start working on building up one of his others, forging up documents. A lot of time and effort goes into it.]
[There's a lot he could focus on. The fact he didn't mess up anything, the fact that his sister was working with a criminal and if he had known this he would've thought twice about becoming a blood donor to his sister's bassist. (Still probably would've, probably would've thought twice about it before deciding.)
Figaro slumps; Gepard straightens. He's finally got an opening. There's a question that's been itching at him since he he was given the Figaro alias, since he spoke to his sister, a question which demands an answer and Gepard's going to get it, one way or another.]
You'll have to retire more than just that if the rest of your aliases follow the same naming scheme. [He's counting on his fingers. He's making a show of it.] Ringo. Figaro. All I would have to do is tell my intelligence offer to look for names that end in O to find the rest of your disguises. If we find a...
[What's a good name, a name- Gepard hums for a second, thinking about it- oh, he's got one.] ...an Otto with a criminal record? I'll know it's probably you. Or an Orlando. Or an Orlo, or maybe you'll give up one day, forego the formalities, and just call yourself Ooo.
[Oh, so Captain Landau thinks that he’s clever! Sussing out the naming scheme that Sampo really wasn’t doing anything to hide, his multitude of o’s. So sue a man for liking the way his name sounds! But that’s all right, if Gepard’s going to give him a heads-up about it, Sampo can pivot to other aliases. That’s why he had so many!]
[He grins at Gepard. He’s fun when he’s all riled up.]
Maybe that is my name! You caught me, it’s just Ooo. Don’t you think it suits me?
[How’s that for your spank bank, Gepard? The possibility that the man with the pretty green eyes and handsome face is named Ooo. Is he serious? Is he just fucking with you? Who knows! This is a man who willingly tells people to call him Figaro and Bono.]
You know, you shouldn’t be so happy about spoiling Ringo for me, though. The keyboardist in that band was a big hunk of a man, I was planning on making an arrangement with him. I mean, it might have been a little difficult because he was so hung up on your sister, but I could’ve pulled off blond. And then you wouldn’t have been stuck with me!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-05-18 03:26 am (UTC)[The literal most obvious guess that could have ever been guessed. Who would have thought that Gepard Landau, Belobog's most overworked guard captain, could possibly be a little exhausted from his unfathomable hours on duty? No one, surely!]
[Sampo walks over and takes the large jar from Gepard; it's a little ugly, sure, but it's big enough for the bouquet and that's really all that matters. Kind of looks like one of those jars that someone's grandmother might use to jar vegetables or something.]
That'll do. [He goes back to the sink to cut the ends off of the flower stems, so they can soak up some water, and fills up the jar. In go the flowers, and voila! Bouquet in a jar. It has a certain rustic charm to it, or it would if Belobog had any concept of quaint country folk. Either way, it's a little cute in its own way. Sampo hands the whole thing back to Gepard.]
Go put that on the table, it'll look nice there. [Off you go, be a good boy.] And since you're supposed to be taking care of yourself for the next few days, why don't you go take a shower before dinner?
[Then he'd be all nice and clean for dinner, and he probably really needs a shower after a full day of doing... whatever it is that a Silvermane guard captain does. It's probably physical and sweaty, he's wearing all of that armor and probably has to run drills or something with the recruits. Sampo doesn't know, it all sounds terrible to him.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-19 03:27 am (UTC)Right.
The jar is placed on the table. And it looks nice. Homey. Like his apartment is somewhere he spends time in, instead of a place he briefly exists in before heading off to his duty, whatever form it might take that day. At the suggestion of a shower, Gepard half-turns towards Figaro.]
Are you sure you don't need my help with anything? [And then Gepard sniffs his arm, his nose wrinkles, and technically? Technically he hadn't had a shower since...a long while. He'd taken a morning- not even a shower, a rinse, went to work, changed, marched along the streets of Belobog, ran into Figaro/Ringo/Name-o, got...assaulted, slept over at his place, woke up, went back to work, and now he's here.
So while he's not filthy, sort of, he does have a bit of a presence. Somewhat of a presence. An olfactory presence that's not as crisp and as clean as one would expect from Captain Landau.]
If you don't, I'll take you up with that, with my apologies.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-19 04:11 am (UTC)[What’s better after a long day than a warm, relaxing shower? Well, a delicious dinner that you didn’t have to prepare, probably, and would you look at that— Gepard’s getting that, too. Even if your day was hard, your evening is shaping up pretty well.]
[While Gepard takes care of his personal hygiene, Sampo finishes up dinner; beef tenderloin smothered in buttered balsamic mushrooms with dauphinois potatoes, and a chard salad on the side for something green. Hydroponic greens are expensive, Captain, so he expects you to eat all of it! No skipping on the leafy vegetables just because you’d like the meat and potatoes better.]
[It also just so happens to be a good meal for the very slightly anemic— good sources of iron, vitamin C in the chard to help with absorption. Gepard had tasted like he could use the iron when Sampo had bit him.]
[When he emerges from the shower, dinner will be plated and ready for him, with two glasses; water and red wine. How can you have a beef dinner without a full bodied red to go with it?]
[Unfortunately, Sampo can’t eat a bit of his own cooking. He’ll just have to sit at the table and watch Gepard enjoy it all, and hopefully get a little good feedback about it. Is the tenderloin how he likes it? Are the dauphinois potatoes cheesy enough? Does he like the red, or does he prefer a crisp white even with red meat? Important things for Sampo to know and live vicariously through.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-19 03:30 pm (UTC)And the only thing he has to offer is his foul-tasting blood, so-
So. Gepard takes a shower, delighted to discover there's still hot water, as after a certain point in the day it's more of a 50/50 coin flip; warm shower or a lukewarm shower that he has to rush through. He sings as he does so, not with the full-voiced confidence of a born singer delighting in the acoustics of a shower, but with the absent-mindedness of a guy who is still processing this turn of events and needs something to do with his mouth. One of his sister's songs, probably. He doesn't pay attention to that.
He gets out.
Dressing, as it turns out, is far more complicated as Gepard's forced to realize that he doesn't remember the last time he dressed down in front of anyone who wasn't also a Landau. It's one thing to wear a stupid sweater in front of Serval, especially when she got it for him and has two matching ones for her and Lynx; it's another to wear sweatpants in front of Figaro...but also, Figaro's going to feed from him, isn't he? Maybe? And if he does, he should wear something he won't mind getting messy should it come to it...
He's overthinking things. He's definitely overthinking things. He puts on pants. He puts on a shirt. Gepard re-emerges, and is slapped in the face by beef tenderloin, and potatoes, and...]
Is that... [It can't be.] ...chard?
[Where the hell did Figaro get the greens from in this city? Gepard sits, a bit stunned? A bit shell-shocked? He sort of sits down in his chair with a thump as he stares it all. He picks up a fork and pokes at the beef tenderloin half-expecting it to become a Fragmentum monster, and then he'll blink and discover he's on the streets of Belobog and everything from 'this guy tried to drink my blood and then take me to see a doctor'-onward is a dream.
It remains beef.]
This looks...amazing- where did you- how di- [No, he should start from the top, shouldn't he?] Thank you. [That's the important part, isn't it? And here's the other important part: he cuts off a small piece of beef tenderloin, and takes a bite-] It's delicious... [It is delicious, but how does a guy who exclusively drinks blood learn how to cook? So many questions.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-20 12:24 am (UTC)[It’s strange to see the Captain so dressed down when he gets to the table, even stranger to see the look on his face— the man could take learning that there’s a bloodsucking monster in Belobog, but is shocked by a salad. And, sure, it’s hard to find leafy greens on a planet stuck in eternal winter, but there are a few hydroponic gardens that grow the few that have survived on this planet. Chard, obviously, being one of them.]
You’re welcome. [Good boy, good manners.] Glad you like it!
[The beef is so tender that cutting it with a knife is really just a formality, the richness cut a little by the acidity in the balsamic mushrooms. It is still very stick-to-your-ribs kind of food, but when you’re running around all day in the winterlands, you probably need the insulation. It’ll be good for him, Gepard could probably stand to gain a pound or two.]
If you have any feedback, I’d like to hear it. I can’t taste things as I go, so I’m kind of relying on memory and guesswork!
[Don’t mind him as he watches you eat. It’s just a little bit out of envy, it’s fine.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-20 01:10 am (UTC)...weirder. Weird is already unavoidable.]
You're incredible. [He just breathes that out.] You did all this from memory? The meat's so tender, the chard- [No hesitation there. Chomp.] It's fresh. Fresher than what I had even when I still lived with my parents.
[(It's not, but at the moment he's a bit overwhelmed.)] And the only thing I can offer you is me... [Well.] I'll make it up to you, I promise.
[He doesn't realize it, but at the moment Gepard wishes they had televisions so he had an excuse to invite Figaro to sit on the couch later as they watch something-or-another. He doesn't recognize the need - Belobog doesn't have televisions - but if he did discover those existed in general? He'd say yes. Yes, that's the nameless urge I felt there, that's what I wanted. I really wanted to cuddle on the couch with a blood-sucking weirdo and watch something.
As he doesn't know what a TV is, Gepard just feels a nameless need rise up inside of him.]
I'll think of something.
[The wine? Also amazing, but maybe that's because he spent the last whatever eating guard food and then eating instant noodles when he couldn't hit up a cafeteria.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-20 02:08 am (UTC)[Said guy also uses most of that hydroponic system to grow… things that are not chard, but he did keep a section of it for his own food-growing use. Calling in a favor for fresh greens is maybe a little much, but it’s kind of worth it for the look on Gepard’s face. And it’ll do him some good to get some roughage in his diet.]
[Gratitude really is a good look on Gepard. Sampo smiles at him, enjoys the feeling of having an influential man be so appreciative.]
I wasn’t always on a liquid-only diet, you know.
[It’s a relatively recent development in the history of Sampo, though he’ll spare Gepard the gory details. The less he knows, the better. The less chance that he’ll get caught in the web of bullshit that surrounds him.]
[Unaware of Gepard’s weird, cuddling-based urges brought on by some domesticity and a really good tenderloin, Sampo takes his gratitude at face value.]
Even if you aren’t back to a hundred percent, you are giving me a meal. We’re pretty close to even.
[He props his chin on his hand, and his elbow on the table. Poor manners, but Gepard has the table manners of a starving guard, so it’s fine.]
Oh, that reminds me. I have dessert for you, too, if you want it.
[Panna cotta with caramel sauce, in the refrigerator. Though he probably could’ve satisfied Gepard’s palate with rye soda and yogurt and saved himself the trouble.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-21 04:12 am (UTC)How do dates work? What do people do on dates? He doesn't know.
Besides, their relationship is founded on mutual need, or something, and Figaro/Ringo/Something Else happens to have a very unique dietary requirement, so probably he shouldn't let himself get carried away.]
I'd love to try it. [What the heck.] And then I'll feed you, as promised...I'm sorry for making you wait.
[What the heck, why does he feel so special thanks to a guy who wants to bite him and drain his blood, of all the people in Belobog the person making him feel special is the guy with terrible dietary needs who...
Apparently didn't always have to drink blood? Much to consider. He'd have gone on the attack but beef and chard (greens!) had a way of distracting a guy from the point.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-21 04:52 am (UTC)[It’s a small but important distinction! Anyone could go out and buy a dessert, but ol’ Sampo took the time to make one for you. Granted, panna cotta isn’t a very difficult dessert, so it wasn’t much of a bother, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Plus, he wants a little test run of his theory that Gepard will taste different if he feeds him differently. Maybe after a sugary dessert, he’ll be sweet instead of bitter.]
[And Gepard’s reaction is adorable. Worth the trouble for that alone.]
I’ll get it for you once you’re done with the main course.
[If Gepard had had the nerve to ask him about date adjacent things… who knows? Maybe he’d have said yes. Maybe he’d have said no. Maybe he’d have been the voice of reason and told Gepard that it was a stupid idea to get so close to a thing that saw you as dinner.]
[He even apologizes for making Sampo wait. The Captain is too good a man for his own self preservation, and it’ll get him in trouble one of these days.]
I’ve been waiting a few weeks. What’s another few minutes? [He assumes that Gepard’s already worked out the timeline, since he knows when Sampo’s victims were found and when the blood shortage started.] Besides, we want you as tasty as you can be, right?
[And theoretically, that would be after he’s all full up on tenderloin and greens and dessert— the latter of which Sampo will helpfully bring out once he’s nearly done with the rest of his plate.]
There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry, too.
[He’d given Gepard pretty hearty portions in anticipation of his appetite, but there’s more if he wants it. And enough that Sampo has ideas for tomorrow’s lunch, for the leftovers.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-22 12:05 am (UTC)Because it's probably a very stupid move to get close to someone who saw him as dinner, but unfortunately that someone's very convincing, and has very nice eyes? He should be asking, "Hey, aren't you the con artist which was taking advantage of my sister, she mentioned a guy named Ringo, it sounded like your story."]
You said you didn't always have your liquid diet.
[He says this instead, carefully, hoping that- diplomacy was never something Gepard had been good at. His strategies involved punching things, not making the guy who drinks blood and makes amazing food sad.]
What changed- I'm sorry. I know this is a personal question. [...this would be so much easier if Figaro was a Fragmentum monster and all he had to do was punch him five times. Gepard sighs, tries to cover with a sip of the wine- and it's good wine, what the heck.
...what had he been saying- oh, right.] I suppose I just need to know if others can...change, much like you did.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-22 01:31 am (UTC)[Instead, he brings up Sampo's casual comment about not always being a people-eater, and out of those two questions, Sampo would've probably rather had to field the Ringo thing than this. But it's really a pretty fair question, especially since Gepard's offered up his neck. Regardless of the tasty dinners, Sampo's probably still on the indebted side of this equation, what with all the favors that Gepard has done him between being his personal juice box and not immediately turning him in.]
No, it's fine. Of course you have questions! It's only fair for me to answer some of them.
[Some, not necessarily all. With probably a healthy dash of selective omission for Gepard's own sake.]
What happened to me is... really rare. There won't be another person in Belobog who's got it. [He's certain of that. He'd know if there was another Emanator hanging out on this planet.] And it's not communicable, so you don't have to worry about catching it, either!
If you want, you can think of it like an illness, or a curse. [He laughs.] Like cancer, or something. I'll have it 'til I die but thankfully I'll be keeping it to myself.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-24 03:00 am (UTC)It's delicious food. His fork plays with a bit of meat, moving it back and forth for a moment, chewing his lip and unaware of that as he thinks. Then, Gepard glances up again at Figaro.]
I'm sorry to hear that.
[What else can he say? He has more questions, like how is Figaro so sure that he's the only one, what had happened to him, how had he acquired this...condition? But, they can wait.
For now.]
That can't have been easy to adjust to. How have you- [He hesitates, and Gepard wants to scoot closer but he can't - there's a table in the way - but he leans towards Figaro ever so slightly. The fucking table is in the way, for-
Actually, probably the table being in the way is a good thing to prevent whatever-that-was that he wanted to do. That bit of meat he had been playing with gets shoved into Gepard's mouth. Chew, bite, swallow.] If others know about your...condition, something would have happened. I would have heard about it. The Silvermane Guard would have been called in. How have you hid it for so long...?
no subject
Date: 2024-05-25 04:39 pm (UTC)[Gepard continues to eat, to ruminate, to ask his questions. Sampo briefly considers dropping a bomb under the table as an exit strategy, because an unconscious guard captain can't ask uncomfortable questions, but that would probably ruin this whole thing that they've got going on, and he really needs a stable food source.]
There are other people who know, but I'd appreciate it if you don't ask too many questions about them. They help me out sometimes, and I don't want them catching any heat for it.
[Natasha, specifically-- she's got enough on her plate without having any guardsmen poke around because she sometimes gives blood to a hungry man. Sampo suspects that Seele has noticed that he's strange, though he's not sure if she's caught on to exactly how, but she still works with him. So either she's aware and has decided that his services are useful enough to excuse it, or she's unaware but still has decided that his services are useful enough to not look further into it.]
I've stayed hidden because the only other people who know are people who won't rat me out to the guard. They're good folks!
[And that whole thing about how he goes about getting his food helps. People are way more sympathetic about his unfortunate dietary restrictions because he's about as close to non-violent as you can get with his issues-- nonlethal, eating as infrequently as possible, taking blood bags over fresh whenever possible. It bought him goodwill with Natasha, and that was a valuable connection to make.]
[He sometimes misses the Tavern, how easy it was to have a meal whenever he wanted it. He is an Emanator of their Aeon, and to be a meal for him was a joy and an honor; he barely even had to ask. And if you were going to be a meal for any of Aha's chosen, he's the better one, anyway-- the one that wouldn't leave you an inch from death. But here he is, having to make deals with guard captains to have a regular blood donor. How the mighty have fallen, or something like that.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-25 09:54 pm (UTC)...but. And this will haunt him, but, but.
But Figaro had ample opportunity to have dealt with him in some final fashion, one way or another, and chose not to. Repeatedly. The food could have been drugged, but he ate the sandwich, drank the soda, devoured the meat and lost himself in the potatoes and relished the greens.]
Just so you understand, I'm not letting you off of the hook simply because you're feeding me, Figaro. I have to understand your situation if I'm to deal with it in a way that keeps Belobog safe. [He says this at last, in a low voice, just so Figaro knows he's quite serious about the fact he's still very quite suspicious and is duty-minded and devoted to Belobog. Because he is. If he has reason to believe Figaro is a threat to the people (a true, genuine threat out of choice, one who can't be accommodated or reasoned with), he won't hesitate, bitch.
...then, a little bit quieter, a softer confession:]
But I'm glad you don't have to face whatever it is that you do have all by yourself. [Because maybe a very lonely safehouse makes a guy wonder. Because maybe a very lonely safehouse makes a guy a little bit sad to think about. Maybe because Figaro's proving to have more time on his hands than a guard might expect. Because maybe a guy's wondering if he should get tickets to a play - not the big, fancy theater but a smaller one where it's less likely he'd be recognized as Captain Landau and more like 'hey he kind of sort of looks like that one captain guy,' see a comedy, are there any good comedies? Much to consider.
But that's besides the point, for now.]
Can I try that dessert? Or did I ruin the mood? I'm sorry if I did.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-26 10:53 pm (UTC)[Instead, he’s sitting across the dinner table from him, preparing his meals.]
If I was going to be a danger to Belobog, don’t you think you’d know by now?
[Especially if Gepard is operating under the assumption that Sampo is a Belobog native. And he has been on planet for a few years, flying under the radar, but the good Captain doesn’t know that he had years to get used to his condition before he ever arrived on the planet.]
[And as for the sentimental things, well… best to let Gepard think whatever would make him the most sympathetic towards him.]
[Sampo stands.]
Sure, Captain. Let me get it for you.
[He gets it from the refrigerator, sets it before the waiting Captain— panna cotta with caramel sauce, the final course. Go ahead, enjoy it, Sampo will just wait from his seat across the table.]
Since we’ve been playing twenty questions… why haven’t you turned me in yet? That’s probably what all your little oaths say you should do.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 12:39 am (UTC)That doesn't happen. Instead, dessert is placed before him, and it looks delicious. It's a fight to keep from staring. And, well, doesn't that deserve an honest answer? Hasn't Figaro done enough to deserve an honest answer to that question? He has.
So, Gepard inhales. Exhales, slow, looks at Figaro in the face.]
They do. If I wanted to honor my oath, I should have turned you in the moment you attacked me.
[He can admit that. He knows what he should've done.] ...but I don't think you're a danger to Belobog. Just a man in a bad situation, doing what you must to survive.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 01:04 am (UTC)[Everyone has a sob story. There probably isn’t a single person that Gepard’s arrested who wouldn’t have been able to tell him any number of tragic tales about why they had to break the law, and some of them might have even been true! But he didn’t let them off light. He still did his duty, let them bring their sad stories to the Architects for arbitration.]
[So why is Sampo the exception? Is it because his situation is so strange?]
Even if you didn’t want to put me in prison…
[The same thought that Gepard had before occurs to him— if he’s not going to be tossed in a prison cell, he could be tossed into a specimen cage. A curiosity to be studied, for doctors to poke and prod. Possibly a worse fate than just being thrown into a cell and left to rot.]
[Not that he’d stick around in either a prison cell or a laboratory, anyway. He’d be out of there and off-planet before Gepard would even have the chance to chase him down again, and he’d blacklist Jarilo-VI for good. Planet non grata, never coming back.]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 02:29 am (UTC)If you want me to throw you into prison that badly, that can most certainly be arranged, Figaro.
[A little angry emphasis there. Figaro. A fake name and they both know it, and what a terrible name it still is. Because if he blusters enough, it'll be enough to keep him from going too far on the defensive. Maybe. In theory. He understands preservation, but he can't just defend if he wants to win this...
Whatever they're having.]
And- [He points with his fork. Point.] You have committed enough crimes to deserve some time in a prison cell. We both know it. But if I end up throwing you in prison, it will be with you seen as a man and not as a monster, and I will be handling this situation personally until I can be sure others will see you in the same way I do.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 03:03 am (UTC)[It’s true that he’s caused the guard no end of trouble in various ways, possibly more than Gepard is currently aware of— Sampo’s got a lot of aliases. There’s more than just Ringo and Figaro— there’s Dio and Bono, too, and of course Brughel. A few others that he hasn’t used as often, he ran a few small scams as Gilmour, but it never felt quite right.]
[But the good Captain wants him locked up as a man rather than a monster, Aeons know how he’d manage to pull that one off. Sampo could single-handedly save Belobog from certain destruction and they’d still see him as a monster. He could be the chosen of Qlipoth Themself.]
If that’s what you want, you’ll be stuck with me for a long time, Captain. People around here are pretty set, once they make their minds up.
[The Preservation at work, or just naturally stubborn folk? Who knows.]
I guess you’ll just have to get used to my pretty face!
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 03:28 am (UTC)[Because he is a Landau, and the stubbornness that characterizes the people of Belobog runs very, very, very strongly through his veins. Because when a Landau wants to do something, they go for it, without hesitation, letting nothing stand in their way.
And unfortunately, he wants a man with enchanting green eyes to be seen as that - a man - which means getting to know him a little bit better.
...this is not a good thing. He knows this. Gepard gets to eating dessert- and he has to take a moment to savor the taste because it's amazingly delicious. Surprisingly so. Astonishingly so.
...okay. Figaro being stuck with him is settled, he's eating the dessert, after this he'll take off his shirt and let Figaro...feed, and that leaves-]
What are you doing tomorrow? I don't know what to do with myself and my time off. [Only for a day or two, it's only a brief amount of PTO. He'll be contacting Lady Bronya soon enough and getting this straightened out.] It'll be easier to relax if I have company.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 04:03 am (UTC)[Sampo has to make his brain switch gears from Gepard’s quixotic quest to have him recognized as a real boy in the eyes of Belobog to… what he’s doing tomorrow. Part of his plans are going to involve Gepard by necessity, since he’s the man’s on-call personal chef now, but aside from that? It would have been getting his nose back to the grindstone, finding ways to make that cash so that he can pay the rent on his safe houses and that sort of thing.]
[A little banal, maybe. If he was lucky, Nat would send him a text and ask him to do a little smuggling for her, that would liven up his life a little. But Gepard apparently wants to hang out with him or something?]
Nothing concrete, other than making your meals.
[Well, this is as good an excuse as any to take a hard pivot from the serious discussion they’d been having. Really brings down the mood, talking about how the whole city would want to run you out of town with fire and pitchforks.]
Anybody you could ask, and you want to hang around with little ol’ Figaro? [A grin, a wink.] How could I refuse? It would be a pleasure to help you relax, Captain.
[Were the good Captain the type, he might have been persuaded to really help him relax, in ways that would certainly make Gepard blush right to the roots of his blond hair. (He’d be delicious after that— but naughty Sampo, hands off the handsome man who doesn’t swing that way.)]
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 04:32 am (UTC)Please don't say it like that.
[Because Figaro offering to help him relax has his mind spiraling in directions it shouldn't go in. He has the advantage; Figaro is at his mercy. He wouldn't want to pressure Figaro into something he'd hate, something they'd both regret, probably, maybe. Figaro probably didn't even mean it like that in the first place.
And also because there's not really anyone he can ask besides Figaro. Which reminds him...]
We'll have to avoid my family. My sister will have questions if she sees you with me, Ringo.
no subject
Date: 2024-05-27 05:25 am (UTC)You… did you talk to Serval?
[Now that he thinks about it, if Serval had more of a stick up her ass or if Gepard loosened up a little, they’d look pretty similar, wouldn’t they? Like siblings, maybe.]
You’re the brother that put in a bad word for me! [He can’t believe it, he was booted out because a nosy guard captain couldn’t help but butt in to his sister’s business.]
I can’t believe it, you messed up my whole deal! I’d finally talked her into paying me a fraction of the ticket sales, and you got her to drop me!
[That money would’ve paid for months of his rent, and it all vanished just because of one overprotective little brother. Sampo sighs and props his chin on his hand, slumping a little.]
Guess l’ll have to retire the Ringo alias now, too. Hate to burn a good one, but it’s compromised.
[He’d had a good history on Ringo, all the paperwork and everything. Now he’ll have to start working on building up one of his others, forging up documents. A lot of time and effort goes into it.]
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Date: 2024-05-27 03:48 pm (UTC)Figaro slumps; Gepard straightens. He's finally got an opening. There's a question that's been itching at him since he he was given the Figaro alias, since he spoke to his sister, a question which demands an answer and Gepard's going to get it, one way or another.]
You'll have to retire more than just that if the rest of your aliases follow the same naming scheme. [He's counting on his fingers. He's making a show of it.] Ringo. Figaro. All I would have to do is tell my intelligence offer to look for names that end in O to find the rest of your disguises. If we find a...
[What's a good name, a name- Gepard hums for a second, thinking about it- oh, he's got one.] ...an Otto with a criminal record? I'll know it's probably you. Or an Orlando. Or an Orlo, or maybe you'll give up one day, forego the formalities, and just call yourself Ooo.
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Date: 2024-05-27 05:04 pm (UTC)[He grins at Gepard. He’s fun when he’s all riled up.]
Maybe that is my name! You caught me, it’s just Ooo. Don’t you think it suits me?
[How’s that for your spank bank, Gepard? The possibility that the man with the pretty green eyes and handsome face is named Ooo. Is he serious? Is he just fucking with you? Who knows! This is a man who willingly tells people to call him Figaro and Bono.]
You know, you shouldn’t be so happy about spoiling Ringo for me, though. The keyboardist in that band was a big hunk of a man, I was planning on making an arrangement with him. I mean, it might have been a little difficult because he was so hung up on your sister, but I could’ve pulled off blond. And then you wouldn’t have been stuck with me!
[Tasty, tasty Dunn.]
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