Maybe they're both a little unsure of what's happening here. There's a long second where Verso does nothing, his hand warm and curling just barely around Gustave's, and he's about to lift his hand away with a self-conscious laugh when suddenly Verso does the lifting for him and ducks his head at the same time to brush the ghost of a kiss over his knuckles.
It's barely a touch at all, just enough for Gustave to feel the barest pressure of soft lips and the sensation of a mustache brushing against his skin and a puff of warm breath as the man speaks. He feels himself grow still.
How long has it been since he's felt anything like this? Not since Sophie, and that was a year ago now; long enough that he doesn't wake up every day to refreshed heartbreak, but not so long that he's been able to even think about attempting anything like romance with someone else. If that's even what this is, and he's by no means sure it is. Verso has exaggerated and embellished so many gestures and words in only these few moments that he's known the man; this could easily be more of the same.
But his hand is so warm, and when his fingers curl just barely around Gustave's before letting go, Gustave's press back. Careful and quick, almost something that could be mistaken for a twitch of muscle, a reflex. ]
Any audience would be fortunate to listen to you, I think.
[ He's dropped his own act, and now he's studying the other man curiously, a little unsure. A moment ago, he'd been thinking without enthusiasm that this chance meeting was coming to an end. Now he's not so sure that's really what he wants. ]
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Date: 2025-05-23 03:51 am (UTC)Maybe they're both a little unsure of what's happening here. There's a long second where Verso does nothing, his hand warm and curling just barely around Gustave's, and he's about to lift his hand away with a self-conscious laugh when suddenly Verso does the lifting for him and ducks his head at the same time to brush the ghost of a kiss over his knuckles.
It's barely a touch at all, just enough for Gustave to feel the barest pressure of soft lips and the sensation of a mustache brushing against his skin and a puff of warm breath as the man speaks. He feels himself grow still.
How long has it been since he's felt anything like this? Not since Sophie, and that was a year ago now; long enough that he doesn't wake up every day to refreshed heartbreak, but not so long that he's been able to even think about attempting anything like romance with someone else. If that's even what this is, and he's by no means sure it is. Verso has exaggerated and embellished so many gestures and words in only these few moments that he's known the man; this could easily be more of the same.
But his hand is so warm, and when his fingers curl just barely around Gustave's before letting go, Gustave's press back. Careful and quick, almost something that could be mistaken for a twitch of muscle, a reflex. ]
Any audience would be fortunate to listen to you, I think.
[ He's dropped his own act, and now he's studying the other man curiously, a little unsure. A moment ago, he'd been thinking without enthusiasm that this chance meeting was coming to an end. Now he's not so sure that's really what he wants. ]
...where were you going, after this?