etraya | UN: ScielCandide

[Her fondness for him is equally on her face and in her voice, eyes half-lidded.]

Of course you are.

[She can only be glad that he’s spent his day out in the sunshine, touring the countryside and all of the strange buildings out there. Better than moping at home, or letting the walls close in on him.]

Out, I think. I’ll do one more reading and head over to the station. Unless you need something from home?

Just your fine company. Minus the cards.

[ One fortune-telling is enough for today! Not that he thinks he'll be able to escape a more casual one once they're a few drinks in.

Worth it. It's been too long since he and Sciel managed to go out and have some fun together. ]

Meet you at Harry's Hideaway in half an hour?

[Message received, friend! She laughs.]

Consider them well-hidden, where they cannot reach you. See you in half an hour!

[He doesn’t need to know the last reading is for her. For them. It makes her feel better. It’s strange to think about a proper night out, but maybe the exact thing they need to work some kinks out of the way they’ve been with each other.

So she’s there, in good spirits despite the little ripples of tension. A few minutes late, due to a silly mistake with the trains, but whatever. She lets herself into the bar and beelines for her friend, greeting him by slinging an arm around his shoulders for a hug.]

Have you mastered the trolleys yet? I went one stop in the wrong direction before I got on the right one!

[ He hasn't had a chance to order yet, is just sipping at the water they'd brought him right off the bat and snacking on a few of the salted nuts the server had set in front of him in a little dish. He's bellied up to the bar, dressed down in a pair of chinos and a long-sleeved button-down shirt that he'd rolled up above his elbows, and the material rumples easily under Sciel's cheery greeting.

Gustave suffers the half-hug with a crooking smile, hooks his foot around the rung of a stool next to him to pull it out for her. ]

Most of what I've figured out is that they need a better trolley system. It's absurd to take half the day to get around this place.

[ By the sound of it, he's more than willing to be the one to take that project on. ]

This okay? Or we can grab a booth.

[She slides onto the offered stool with a smile in turn, perching on it askew so she can angle herself to him. One of the pleasant things about a jaunt away from Lumière is being free from how buttoned up it is; she’s taking full advantage in a cropped tank top and breezy linen shorts.

She briefly glances over her shoulder at the empty booths and imagines peeling her thighs from the plastic seats.]

I’m fine with the bar if you are.

[She steals one of his nuts.]

I bet you could fix them up before the next mission. Did you ride the ones in San Fransisco? [Were those trains? Trolleys? She’s not sure she knows the difference.] Every time I saw them there was a line.

[ Gustave shifts the little dish of nuts closer toward her, letting her thieve as many as she likes. There's a folded menu in front of him, but he hasn't looked at it yet; he's not sure if this is going to be a night for wine or for something harder. ]

As many of them as I could, in San Francisco and everywhere else I went.

[ Trolleys, trains, trams; he'd taken them all, making notes and scribbling sketches as he went. ]

How was your last reading?

Considering we were only there for a month, that is a lot of different trains.

[She ignores the menu, too, her attention fixed singularly on him once she has something to nibble on.]

It was good. It was one of those cards that feels like a mistake until you let it roll around in your head for a little bit. But I think things are going to be okay.

[She’s certainly going to keep it in mind.]

I’m surprised I didn’t get more people balking at the whole thing.

And yet somehow, not enough.

[ He'll tease himself easily, leaning his metal elbow on the bar as he studies her. He can't be the only one surprised by a reading tonight, but it's good to know she hasn't had too much trouble. ]

I'm not. People here seem to be willing to go along with all sorts of things. And a reading from you isn't likely to be as harmful as some of the things Aurora's asked them to do... depending on the card, of course.

Or if you're throwing it at them, I guess. In which case it could hurt a lot.

Well, hopefully the next mission will be on a planet full of sapient trains. You can ask them anything you like about their engines and their wheels and their –– stacks?

[She has basically run out of train parts, so she leaves it there with a shrug, eyes on his. Despite their train's tracks having a few more dings to navigate, just looking at him makes her glad to be on it. And who doesn't love looking into Gustave's warm eyes? In Sciel's opinion, a good friendship includes plenty of time appreciating their beauty.]

You know, I was thinking about how there have been precious few opportunities to throw any cards around. Maybe the skeptics who call me a con artist would make for good target practice, so I don't lose my edge?

[1000% joking.]

Anyone who calls you a con artist deserves what's coming to them.

[ And if that happens to be cards flung at their head, well— who is he to try and stop Sciel from dealing with her own detractors however she sees fit?

A companion bot bartender rolls up, and he glances at the menu, then over at Sciel, lifting a genteel hand in her direction. ]

Ladies first. What would you like?

Hmm, hmm, hmm. [She leans over to look, arms folded against the bar, eyes running over a bunch of different cocktails. It’s such a pleasant mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar. What, pray tell, is Fireball? Guess she’ll find out.]

This one. [She holds it up to the bot, finger under the name, for it to see. She doesn’t know what bourbon is either but it at least sounds like a familiar word. She passes the menu back.]

Let’s hope the trolleys let drunks ride, mon amie.

Two, [ he tells the bot, before it wanders off to make their drinks. He has no idea what they're both in for, but at least they'll be taking this hit together.

Their orders in, he looks over at her, his eyes crinkling with his smile. ]

If they don't, then we'll stumble our way back. We've done it enough times back home, non?

And I think my back is still strong enough to carry you, if I have to. Whatever Maelle might say about me being an old man.

More times than I could count.

[She leans just enough to bump him with her shoulder.]

You know, I think she’s the old one at heart, the way she likes to wag her finger at our love for wine. But I’ll take the piggy-back, if you aren’t three sheets to the wind first!

If I am, I'll expect you to be the one carrying me.

[ He doesn't shift with that bump, just leans right back into her, letting her bounce gently off his shoulder. It's an absurd relief to know that two very strong drinks are coming their way, and that Sciel came out to be with him, after... well, after everything. ]

We're overdue for this, I think. So—

[ He couldn't be sly if his life depended on it, but there's a distinctly amused quirk to the corner of his smile. ]

—I'm grateful you're taking a whole evening out of your social schedule for a drink with an old friend.

That’s what all the training was for, you know, waste of time if you can’t sling a friend on your back and carry him across the island.

[And they are so sorely overdue. So much so that she can only roll her eyes to the ceiling and grin at his little tease. She can’t look innocent, not even close, but she’ll return her attention back to him and try it anyway:]

No idea what you’re talking about, I’m home and in bed every night by sundown. [She definitely did not creep in at three last night. Definitely was not out the door again by noon.] And even if I wasn’t, you’re still my absolute favourite.

So you're saying if we put a bell on the door, it won't ring in the middle of the night?

[ He couldn't care less, is just happy she's going out and having such a grand time. It's always been easy for Sciel to make friends, and if she ever did decide it was time to mend her broken heart and move on, she'd have no shortage of suitors.

And he's glad to see she isn't pining over Verso, hurting for more reasons than those affecting Maelle. He'd worried over it for a while; still does, if he's being honest. ]

I'll take it, for as long as I can hold onto the title.

[ Their drinks come, and he pushes hers over to her before lifting his own in a toast. ]

...What are we drinking to, again?

[She just smiles slyly, neither confirming nor denying how still a bell might be in the night. It had crossed her mind some weeks ago that living with a friend and his child might pose some interesting challenges to the way she likes to live, but there’s no living other way, either, and it’s worked out well, some teasing from Maelle aside.

And maybe it would be different if she was heading out to spend time with Verso, but as it is… she’s glad to be ribbed this way. It feels comfortable. Much easier than she’d expected.]

Hold onto it? Well, don’t let go, monsieur, because it’s not going anywhere otherwise.

[She takes her drink and lifts it, though she lifts it to her nose to smell it. Fireball and bourbon are… powerful, though she can’t place the spice of it otherwise. Alright, up it goes in proper toast.]

We are drinking to “enjoying drinking with each other,” which is sort of a self-fulfilling prophesy, isn’t it?

[ He lifts his own drink, which smells concerningly sweet beneath the smoke. Tomorrow morning is likely to be rough. ]

Let's hope so.

[ Lately, conversations with Sciel have been less predictable than they used to be, but they're both here, trying, and that has to count for something.

He taps his glass against hers, the thick glass making a satisfying clink, amber liquid sloshing over ice. ]

To my soon to be aching head, and soon to be refreshed wardrobe.

[ A pair of jeans may soon be in his future... ]

[Let's hope so is not the most heartening of answers, and it feels like he's anticipating the possibility of someone taking an exit, stage right.]

To something a bit less buttoned up!

[She smiles at him over the rim of her glass and drinks...

... and immediately makes a screwed up face. She's lucky she can swallow before she starts laughing.]

Oh, that's... something. What is that?

[ Gustave chuckles, shoulders lifting in a shrug. Buttoned up is a good descriptor of how he's been feeling in general, lately. Not necessarily a good thing. ]

Maybe I'll try one of those cropped shirts. You seem to like them!

[ He makes a face of his own, seeing the way hers scrunches, then takes a swallow of his own drink — a good-sized one. No pussyfooting around an unfamiliar beverage here!

The punch of flavor is like nothing he's ever had before — spiced and smoky and a little sweet — and he coughs before breaking into a laugh of his own. ]

It tastes like someone set fire to a clump of spices and then soaked them in... what is this? Not cognac?

[She picks up the menu, relocating it, as if she could have misread something just minutes ago.]

The bourbon? It sounded like a word from our language, but whatever it is, it's not-– [A laugh, the back of her hand against her mouth as the liquid burns its way down to her belly.] Would a Lumièrian ever drink this? [It'd overpower everything.] It's like drinking desert air.

We're drinking it, so I guess that answers that question. Though whether we continue drinking it is another.

[ He swills the drink a moment, brows furrowing, then takes another sip as he attempts to discern whether he likes it or not. ]

Oof. It's strong, I'll give it that. It'll do the trick, though we might regret it in the morning.

I'm finishing it. It'll make the next one even better by comparison.

[Maybe it's manageable in small sips. Seems better than wasting it, anyway; two months hasn't shaken a life of making every mouthful count. Someone somewhere worked hard to make this, and all.]

No regrets! This is a wise thing to do. We can't fall out of practice, you know, and that Expedition was far too dry, Esquie aside.

It's strong enough I doubt we'll even be able to taste the next one.

[ Which is exactly what he wanted, so he lifts his glass to her in another tiny toast and takes another sip. The taste is already smoothing out, and he has to admit he likes the way it burns all the way down his chest, warming him from the inside out. ]

It's just as well. If we'd had any wine, Lune and I would have drunk it all that very first night and probably not gotten out of the Meadows at all.

[Fireball, the extinguisher of other flavours. Sciel grins, her attention moving briefly back to the menu, coasting over all the other options, what they’ll do next.]

Not the worst way to go, though, too smashed to feel it when a Nevron picks you off.

[That was grim! She moves on like it wasn’t:]

She’s fun with wine in her! Have you ever seen her drunk? [Must have, maybe after a long evening of bickering over work.] She wouldn’t drink with me at the Festival, I was worried she’d lost the ability to loosen up entirely.

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