[ Not quite the same, he knows. One is more distinctly a performance, and he's sure to Gustave that the comparison might seem absurd. But they're both expressions of themselves, ways in which they've found to pour their souls out into world. In that, Verso thinks, when he's sitting there watching him and leaning in to peer curiously over the shoulder, the look in his eyes probably isn't too different from what he remembers of Gustave, sitting next to him on the piano bench, eyes wide and swept away.
As for the girls, well. Verso could easily make up something here: He's prepared, he's not that afraid, no one will see them. But instead he just squeezes Gustave's hand in answer, even as he guides them down a slightly quieter path. ]
I am worried, yeah. Just --
[ He glances at him, a bit sheepish, a one-shouldered shrug, giving Gustave's hand another gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over a knuckle. He is worried about it. He is aware there's a non-zero chance. He's been careful, knows where the girls have said they'd be, has even asked some favors from gestrals to make sure they're occupied, and the moment he does see them he is prepared to let go of Gustave's hand and slip away.
But it's a risk. Just one he decided he's willing to take, to hold Gustave's hand and walk quietly beside him for this short walk -- but its a much too short one. They're already winding their way somewhere a little outside of the village, past a gestral standing guard that Verso doesn't even bother acknowledging as they move past, towards a strange, ornate door. It looks entirely unlike any of the gestral architecture, though that in itself isn't unusual, with how many things are scattered across the fractured Continent. It looks almost built into the rocky cliff, a stone carved archway, an ornate wooden door within it -- and if Gustave thinks far enough back, it might look distinctly familiar, a door in a hut with weird corals. ]
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It's less about enjoying cannon components and ignition mechanisms and more about watching mon ingΓ©nieur do something he loves, Gustave. [ Something he loves, thrives in, and clearly feels at home doing, something that has defined most of his life in Lumiere in a way that Verso can never hope to know or be a part of, something that seems so natural to his hands as breathing is to his lungs. It'd only been a few hours but he feels like he's seen so much more of Gustave than he'd ever seen before, like he could see him in every single little mechanical piece he'd so delicately fashioned. ] I imagine it's -- not unlike you watching me play music.
[ Not quite the same, he knows. One is more distinctly a performance, and he's sure to Gustave that the comparison might seem absurd. But they're both expressions of themselves, ways in which they've found to pour their souls out into world. In that, Verso thinks, when he's sitting there watching him and leaning in to peer curiously over the shoulder, the look in his eyes probably isn't too different from what he remembers of Gustave, sitting next to him on the piano bench, eyes wide and swept away.
As for the girls, well. Verso could easily make up something here: He's prepared, he's not that afraid, no one will see them. But instead he just squeezes Gustave's hand in answer, even as he guides them down a slightly quieter path. ]
I am worried, yeah. Just --
[ He glances at him, a bit sheepish, a one-shouldered shrug, giving Gustave's hand another gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over a knuckle. He is worried about it. He is aware there's a non-zero chance. He's been careful, knows where the girls have said they'd be, has even asked some favors from gestrals to make sure they're occupied, and the moment he does see them he is prepared to let go of Gustave's hand and slip away.
But it's a risk. Just one he decided he's willing to take, to hold Gustave's hand and walk quietly beside him for this short walk -- but its a much too short one. They're already winding their way somewhere a little outside of the village, past a gestral standing guard that Verso doesn't even bother acknowledging as they move past, towards a strange, ornate door. It looks entirely unlike any of the gestral architecture, though that in itself isn't unusual, with how many things are scattered across the fractured Continent. It looks almost built into the rocky cliff, a stone carved archway, an ornate wooden door within it -- and if Gustave thinks far enough back, it might look distinctly familiar, a door in a hut with weird corals. ]