[ A rooftop garden isn't all that much space, and unless Verso feels like hurtling over the flowerbed and off the roof entirely ( which he does, briefly, actually consider -- unfortunately his obvious survival would only lead to more questions and maybe an entire search party ), he quickly runs out of room to step backwards. He does his best to not make it too obvious he was seeking an escape, instinctively straightening more as Gustave keeps closing the distance between them. His eyes flicker from the other man's eyes, to his hair, the curve of his lips, back up to the now obvious furrow in his brow. Putain.
Verso's answered questions before. He's practiced, even, different Expeditions, gotten to try different variations on what truths to tell, which ones to conveniently omit, what outright lies to say. Sometimes he's paid for the lies. Other times he's paid for the truth. Every time, it ends up not mattering, because all of them die, bodies cold and preserved forever unless they managed to reach the mercy of the Gommage ( or fell to someone else ). But they're not on the Continent, they're in Lumiere, and anything he says has a chance of going straight to the Expedition. Truths, out of the question. The wrong lies, could almost be just as disastrous.
What can he do? Dodge. Distract. Never come back again. He lifts his hands in an almost surrendering gesture, offering truce -- he's not an enemy, this isn't an interrogation, right? No need to be so aggressive with the questions. Calm down, Gustave. ]
I just like it up here, sometimes.
[ The gardens are nice. Lumiere's learned to use the structures it has left in any way it can. People visit the rooftops and make use of them from time to time, but it's still often quieter, easier to stay out of sight -- believable for a man who clearly keeps to himself, right? ]
I saw someone climbing, I didn't know if it was you. [ but he might've thought it was. ] And once I saw you start to fall --
[ And had rushed over there, lightning fast. Trained, clearly. But that's fine, plenty of people train with the Expedition, drift in and out of the Academy all the time as their priorities change, as they figure out how their last years are best spent. He's just picked up something, at some point. That's all.
He frowns, lets his gaze drop from Gustave's face over his body, to his hip, his legs. Is he really not hurt? Is he really okay? Lets talk about that instead for a bit, hopefully. ]
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Date: 2025-05-23 07:08 pm (UTC)Verso's answered questions before. He's practiced, even, different Expeditions, gotten to try different variations on what truths to tell, which ones to conveniently omit, what outright lies to say. Sometimes he's paid for the lies. Other times he's paid for the truth. Every time, it ends up not mattering, because all of them die, bodies cold and preserved forever unless they managed to reach the mercy of the Gommage ( or fell to someone else ). But they're not on the Continent, they're in Lumiere, and anything he says has a chance of going straight to the Expedition. Truths, out of the question. The wrong lies, could almost be just as disastrous.
What can he do? Dodge. Distract. Never come back again. He lifts his hands in an almost surrendering gesture, offering truce -- he's not an enemy, this isn't an interrogation, right? No need to be so aggressive with the questions. Calm down, Gustave. ]
I just like it up here, sometimes.
[ The gardens are nice. Lumiere's learned to use the structures it has left in any way it can. People visit the rooftops and make use of them from time to time, but it's still often quieter, easier to stay out of sight -- believable for a man who clearly keeps to himself, right? ]
I saw someone climbing, I didn't know if it was you. [ but he might've thought it was. ] And once I saw you start to fall --
[ And had rushed over there, lightning fast. Trained, clearly. But that's fine, plenty of people train with the Expedition, drift in and out of the Academy all the time as their priorities change, as they figure out how their last years are best spent. He's just picked up something, at some point. That's all.
He frowns, lets his gaze drop from Gustave's face over his body, to his hip, his legs. Is he really not hurt? Is he really okay? Lets talk about that instead for a bit, hopefully. ]