[ Verso lets himself be pushed back, smiling fondly and leaning back against some nearby furniture as he watches Gustave pack -- its almost as interesting as watching him actually work. Practiced hands, neat and efficient, moving around the workspace he's already been organizing as he worked, a well-organized toolkit where everything clearly has its proper slot. The day Gustave might ever see Verso at work writing or working aside from just playing, or if he sees him just practicing, his own rather more -- haphazard processes might horrify him a little, Verso thinks, but he thinks that fondly, wants him to see, sometime. To share a little more of his life ( or what his life might've been ), like Gustave's sharing a bit of his own, here.
And especially when he circles back to those flowers. Verso can feel a bit of pink rising in his cheeks, and thankfully Gustave's not looking at him right now. The flowers were a bit -- impulsive, sentimental. He'd done what he could to get the gestrals to prepare for Gustave's arrival, and then he'd had time to kill as the Expedition made their way to the village. He knows of a few clearings in the Crimson Forest where those purple flowers bloomed, and he'd found himself wandering there, finding a delicate butter-yellow flower, staring at them together as he held them in his hands, freshly plucked.
Gustave takes them, clearly careful, and when he flips open what Verso guesses must be his journal ( he's seen him writing in it from time to time in the past weeks ), Verso does think to himself he should look away, but -- can't help but be curious. And he leans in just enough to catch a few glimpses of things that have his heart skipping in his beat, leaping into his throat: he sees the other yellow flower first, and that gives him context for what a small faded note might be, even if he can't quite catch the writing from here. And a photograph, old but well-kept, a woman that Verso isn't sure he recognizes. Someone from Lumiere whose face Verso probably never knew to remember, someone dear to him, clearly, and absurdly Verso feels a pang of something in his chest, something that feels like jealousy.
Stupid. He -- shouldn't ask about it. But when Gustave tucks his things away and looks back up at Verso, he might still be able to see the remnants of color dusting on his cheeks, even as he tries to play it off. He smiles, a little lopsided and sly, reaching out to take Gustave's right hand in his own, threading their fingers together and lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss against his knuckles. ]
It's not far.
[ But it's a bit of a walk. And as he gently tugs Gustave by the hand outside, into the night air of the gestral village, where there are definitely still gestrals running around -- Verso doesn't seem as fussed about not being seen. The gestrals already know he's here, and he's tried to tell them to be secretive, but he already knows the risks with that. He does seem to try to urge them towards a quieter path, apparently knowing the village very well, but -- he'd thought about this beforehand, too.
It's not Lumiere. But for a few moments they could almost pretend it is, maybe. Walking hand-in-hand along an old cobblestone street, the gentle glow of lights around them, the cool night air and the buzzing anticipation of an evening together as they walk close enough their shoulders brush, as Verso squeezes Gustave's hand in his own, thumb stroking against his hand like he's reminding himself that he's really, really here. ]
-- I really do like watching you work, you know. [ A soft murmur, a small smile. ] I know you won't believe me, but I could've stayed there all day.
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And especially when he circles back to those flowers. Verso can feel a bit of pink rising in his cheeks, and thankfully Gustave's not looking at him right now. The flowers were a bit -- impulsive, sentimental. He'd done what he could to get the gestrals to prepare for Gustave's arrival, and then he'd had time to kill as the Expedition made their way to the village. He knows of a few clearings in the Crimson Forest where those purple flowers bloomed, and he'd found himself wandering there, finding a delicate butter-yellow flower, staring at them together as he held them in his hands, freshly plucked.
Gustave takes them, clearly careful, and when he flips open what Verso guesses must be his journal ( he's seen him writing in it from time to time in the past weeks ), Verso does think to himself he should look away, but -- can't help but be curious. And he leans in just enough to catch a few glimpses of things that have his heart skipping in his beat, leaping into his throat: he sees the other yellow flower first, and that gives him context for what a small faded note might be, even if he can't quite catch the writing from here. And a photograph, old but well-kept, a woman that Verso isn't sure he recognizes. Someone from Lumiere whose face Verso probably never knew to remember, someone dear to him, clearly, and absurdly Verso feels a pang of something in his chest, something that feels like jealousy.
Stupid. He -- shouldn't ask about it. But when Gustave tucks his things away and looks back up at Verso, he might still be able to see the remnants of color dusting on his cheeks, even as he tries to play it off. He smiles, a little lopsided and sly, reaching out to take Gustave's right hand in his own, threading their fingers together and lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss against his knuckles. ]
It's not far.
[ But it's a bit of a walk. And as he gently tugs Gustave by the hand outside, into the night air of the gestral village, where there are definitely still gestrals running around -- Verso doesn't seem as fussed about not being seen. The gestrals already know he's here, and he's tried to tell them to be secretive, but he already knows the risks with that. He does seem to try to urge them towards a quieter path, apparently knowing the village very well, but -- he'd thought about this beforehand, too.
It's not Lumiere. But for a few moments they could almost pretend it is, maybe. Walking hand-in-hand along an old cobblestone street, the gentle glow of lights around them, the cool night air and the buzzing anticipation of an evening together as they walk close enough their shoulders brush, as Verso squeezes Gustave's hand in his own, thumb stroking against his hand like he's reminding himself that he's really, really here. ]
-- I really do like watching you work, you know. [ A soft murmur, a small smile. ] I know you won't believe me, but I could've stayed there all day.
[ It wasn't boring at all! ]