[ Verso doesn't mind the company, likes it, even. Over the decades, he's learned how to be on his own, can even thrive in it, but its a lonely existence punctuated by the occasional interactions that somehow always wind to misery -- the expeditioners, falling like flies, his father and the lines he draws, his sister and the pain she lives in. As much as he likes to think it's better alone, it still feels lonely. And this, he knows, is dangerous, but it might also be useful, someday down the road. He doubts Gustave is leaving Maelle's side anytime soon.
But its also just -- nice. Even through through the mask. ]
Gustave. [ He echoes back, acknowledging, like it's unfamiliar -- but he's never said the name before, at least, has only really heard it from Maelle. And whatever Verso's expecting, somehow it isn't the way Gustave looks down towards his hands, almost expectant, and back up. Smiling, even brighter somehow in a way that again just lights up those eyes, bold enough to just ask.
Merde, how utterly, worryingly disarming. The man is adorable. Verso laughs to himself again, playing another idle trill across the keys, a running scale that has him leaning further up the keyboard, enough for his shoulder to not just brush but press slightly against Gustave's, for him to lean cross his body slightly to reach the highest keys. Definitely on purpose, especially with how he takes the opportunity to let his voice lower just a little more, and answer him -- ]
How did you know I'm starved for praise?
[ The lot of artists and creatives and performers, he supposes, following the idle scale back down, pulling back away from him again. Still close. ]
Any requests? I'll take specific songs, if you have any in mind, but you can just give me -- a mood. A feeling. Anything.
[ Its been a long time since he performed. Its been even longer since he sat at a piano and played, in the sense of someone playing with his skills, with what he can do, having fun with the instrument, the music, the sounds. There's no lies in the music, for better and for worse. ]
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But its also just -- nice. Even through through the mask. ]
Gustave. [ He echoes back, acknowledging, like it's unfamiliar -- but he's never said the name before, at least, has only really heard it from Maelle. And whatever Verso's expecting, somehow it isn't the way Gustave looks down towards his hands, almost expectant, and back up. Smiling, even brighter somehow in a way that again just lights up those eyes, bold enough to just ask.
Merde, how utterly, worryingly disarming. The man is adorable. Verso laughs to himself again, playing another idle trill across the keys, a running scale that has him leaning further up the keyboard, enough for his shoulder to not just brush but press slightly against Gustave's, for him to lean cross his body slightly to reach the highest keys. Definitely on purpose, especially with how he takes the opportunity to let his voice lower just a little more, and answer him -- ]
How did you know I'm starved for praise?
[ The lot of artists and creatives and performers, he supposes, following the idle scale back down, pulling back away from him again. Still close. ]
Any requests? I'll take specific songs, if you have any in mind, but you can just give me -- a mood. A feeling. Anything.
[ Its been a long time since he performed. Its been even longer since he sat at a piano and played, in the sense of someone playing with his skills, with what he can do, having fun with the instrument, the music, the sounds. There's no lies in the music, for better and for worse. ]