[ His head is a little lowered with the excuse of watching himself do up his buttons and tuck the rumpled, stained shirt into the waistband of his trousers, but his glance shifts up from under his brows to watch as Verso retrieves the jacket, watching how he runs his fingers carefully over the flower there, and again: he doesn't understand.
He looks down again before he has to actively avoid meeting the man's eyes, unwilling to let him see any more of the confusion and disappointment and frustration and bewildered longing he needs to just... he needs to find a way to tamp down on. It's absurd to feel hurt, it's absurd to have let himself indulge this way. Passionate interludes with handsome, mysterious strangers aren't something he engages in; he has more practical matters which require his time and focus and energy.
His head dips a little more at Verso's voice, that comment. Forget me. Find someone else. ]
Yeah.
[ More just to say something, anything, than to agree. Maybe it would be best if he just... forgot all this, turned his mind back to Emma and Maelle and the lumina tech, to his apprentices and his training. He could, he supposes, see if there's someone else here in Lumiere who would like a flower from him, who would want to go to dinner and talk late into the night over glasses of wine. They might even make him feel this way, like he's come alive again for the first time since Sophie. ]
Right.
[ It's sensible, of course. Forget the man he can't have, for whatever reason that for some other mysterious reason cannot be detailed. Seek out someone else more inclined.
He thinks he probably won't. Two heartbreaks in as many years is enough for him, surely.
He gets a little stiffly to his feet, wincing slightly at the aches and soreness of every abused muscle and joint as he goes to pick up his bag of tools, forgotten on this rooftop what feels like so long ago but had to have been less than an hour. It seems deeply unfair that he should also be injured and sore right now, as well as romantically frustrated, but when has life in Lumiere ever been fair? ]
I hope...
[ But he trails off with an awkward, forlorn lift of his hand. He has no idea what to hope for, for Verso. He knows almost nothing and it seems that's as much as he'll ever know. He presses his lips together and shakes his head before finally letting his glance flicker back over to the other man. ]
I hope you'll be well.
Try not to... hurt yourself falling onto any more roofs. If possible.
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Date: 2025-05-30 01:51 pm (UTC)He looks down again before he has to actively avoid meeting the man's eyes, unwilling to let him see any more of the confusion and disappointment and frustration and bewildered longing he needs to just... he needs to find a way to tamp down on. It's absurd to feel hurt, it's absurd to have let himself indulge this way. Passionate interludes with handsome, mysterious strangers aren't something he engages in; he has more practical matters which require his time and focus and energy.
His head dips a little more at Verso's voice, that comment. Forget me. Find someone else. ]
Yeah.
[ More just to say something, anything, than to agree. Maybe it would be best if he just... forgot all this, turned his mind back to Emma and Maelle and the lumina tech, to his apprentices and his training. He could, he supposes, see if there's someone else here in Lumiere who would like a flower from him, who would want to go to dinner and talk late into the night over glasses of wine. They might even make him feel this way, like he's come alive again for the first time since Sophie. ]
Right.
[ It's sensible, of course. Forget the man he can't have, for whatever reason that for some other mysterious reason cannot be detailed. Seek out someone else more inclined.
He thinks he probably won't. Two heartbreaks in as many years is enough for him, surely.
He gets a little stiffly to his feet, wincing slightly at the aches and soreness of every abused muscle and joint as he goes to pick up his bag of tools, forgotten on this rooftop what feels like so long ago but had to have been less than an hour. It seems deeply unfair that he should also be injured and sore right now, as well as romantically frustrated, but when has life in Lumiere ever been fair? ]
I hope...
[ But he trails off with an awkward, forlorn lift of his hand. He has no idea what to hope for, for Verso. He knows almost nothing and it seems that's as much as he'll ever know. He presses his lips together and shakes his head before finally letting his glance flicker back over to the other man. ]
I hope you'll be well.
Try not to... hurt yourself falling onto any more roofs. If possible.