WHO: Expedition 33 (Gustave, Maelle, Sciel, and Verso) WHEN: post-mingle, pre-mission WHERE: the apartments WHAT: the remaining members of Expedition 33 NOTES\WARNINGS: spoilers for Acts 1&2 of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
"It's only what you deserve." He chimes back in return rather than tell her that she's welcome.
His other hand pulls back only so that he can gently rub the back of his neck. He supposes for someone who is as observant as Gustave that he gave too much of a cue with what he did, even if he did flirt with him after.
The area around his eye flinches slightly but he tips his head in a small nod. He agrees; he exhales slowly - it sounds almost like a mix between a sigh and laugh.
"No, that's fair." A slight smile.
He wonders if he could say how he felt when he woke up initially. Not in the hospital, but in a casino. He knew how much he would miss them; how much he loved them. But it didn't absolve him of any of his actions --
-- he lightly squeezes her hand.
So, it doesn't matter. What he felt and how he felt after is miniscule to whatever pain and heartache that they have.
She works her thumbs along the back of his hand again, and she looks at his face, all the things going on there, paired with his easy agreement.
"You've earned your place with us," she reminds him. With anyone else, it would feel like coddling, but the time he's lived stretches on in her imagination, and it's too easy to imagine what it would be like to go years without even a temporary sense of belonging. "And in time, you and Gustave will get to know each other better."
Regardless of where that ends up.
She leans in too, peering into his eyes.
"Until then, I'll help you get set up in an apartment down the hall, yeah?"
Yet again, he smiles -- it's warm and comforting. "Yeah."
Another small agreement with her as he copies her gesture, rubbing his thumb over her hands, before he pulls one of them back.
He breathes out a little laugh.
"I'll be fine, Sciel." Verso reassures her as he almost can't stop himself from cupping the side of her face. "I've lived alone for a long time." His smile softens.
"I can manage setting up an apartment by myself." His chin dips down. "You should do what's best for you, for Gustave, for Maelle. I'll be fine."
He lifts her hands that still are holding his to lightly kiss the knuckle. Forgiving anything she may feel guilty about; there isn't anything to apologize for as far as he is concerned.
She raises her eyebrows at him, smiling growing a bit easier. Slipping into teasing him is starting to feel like second nature. She pulls her hand from his grip, careful not to knock him in the face, and gives him a little shove from the belt-line.
"You're so dramatic," she says, but it's clear that's not a problem for her. "It's down the hall, not across the continent! I'll help strictly for my own amusement, if it saves you some sulking. And still see you every day, for that matter."
Verso holds his hands up in surrender as he takes a step back. His hands raise higher as he ducks his head down. She is trying to reassure him of his place; of their connection. It's easier to slide into playful banter than admit anything else.
"I thought you liked my dramatics." He tosses her an exaggerated frown as his hands drop. "I suppose we'll be able to be more--" Rolling his eyes, he pretends to think of the word, "--ourselves. Not have to worry about being quiet, either."
“I like your dramatics when there’s no other big emotions in the air,” she shoots back, taking a little swipe at poking him in the side. “And you are louder than you think.”
"I get it, I get it." Yet again he holds his hands up in surrender. He even acts as though she touched something vulnerable when poking him in the side. He reaches out to snatch her wrist, to hold it gently. "I'll work on that, too."
She lets him catch her, bracing her feet against the floor like she might resist him. She could. There’s loyalty —— Gustave would be right to judge —— and against it, a deep sense that none of it matters. This is free time, and foisted upon her like this, she gets to use it to the best of her principles.
She lets him hold her, and she looks up at him as she leans a shoulder into his chest.
“You have to learn to be with people again, Verso.”
He inclines his head toward her as he holds her wrist. It's a second of thinking that she might resist him before she lets him hold her. Tipping his head slightly, he lightly bumps his head against hers. He breathes out a little sigh; so many things tighten up in his chest but he can live with them.
"Gestrals and Grandis were easier." A little joke, a beat. "Do you have any questions for me?"
She saw more than any of the others; he wonders if there were concerns on the tip of her tongue that she didn't ever ask out of consideration. He doesn't think she needs to keep holding onto that consideration to him.
She scoffs, lighthearted despite the sound, and she lingers with her bangs mussed up by his cheekbone. Too intimate, she thinks, for someone with feelings she should not enable, but it's been six years since anyone held her so regularly. He understands without so much as a word about it.
"Not ones you'll like," she says. "Are you asking to be polite, or because you want to be questioned?"
"My favorite kind." A casual joke in return. Perhaps, if Lune actually was around, she would've found it funny. He does miss her dry humor.
But he decides to correct her.
"I'm asking because I care about you, and thought I'd answer something you might be wondering." However, he pauses to lightly kiss the top of her head. "But emotions are pretty high at present -- I realize it might be a bit soon to do this."
His smile twitches as he decides to step back to let her go. As much as he wants to be considerate to her, as much as he wants to spoil her as he always says, he realizes he spoke impulsively. It's from the heart; he wants to offer something to someone who has only given him understanding. But he knows already he should wait until she's ready to ask those questions, too.
A kiss and then a step away. What’s this about? she wonders, but that isn’t a question she needs an answer to. She just gives him a little look, as puzzled as she is touched by his familiarity. The second thought to meander through her mind is how impossible the trust between them is to explain to Gustave.
Verso wants to give answers. He’s always been forthcoming with just enough to satisfy, at least for her. Is this just another duck and dodge? Does he think the appearance of being forthcoming will shame her out of asking?
“Alright,” she says, carefully. “I just have one question, then. Maybe two. The rest can wait.”
Edited (Omfg i can’t write to save my life) 2025-07-12 00:16 (UTC)
"I did. Twice." He flicks his finger to the side. "Once at the casino, which was a place that Gustave and I arrived at before here. And once while here, also at the water park."
His head tilts to the side. "Bit odd to have a chat in swimsuits, but it seems to be the time to have chats this time of the month." Another casual joke just before he crosses his arms.
She shifts back to the counter, leaning against it. She does not want to think about Renoir’s old, sagging body in a swimsuit, and will not let it distract her.
”Did you talk about anything that’s changed things, for you?” she asks. “Given what happened at the end, there.”
He breathes slowly and crosses his arms; he adjusts how he stands, leaning on one leg over the other. It's more defensive posture than what he needs, what he means, since he's the one who said that she could ask him anything.
Shifting how he stands, he tries to be a little more open. "More or less." A slight pause. "I hadn't spoken or seen him in years since I joined you all. But it was different in knowing he was alive somewhere out in the world. And I prepared myself for the time that he'd be dead and gone."
His posture noted, she shifts her weight back on her heels, giving him the slightest bit more space. There’s nothing between him and the door, should he need it. He’s never been a runner, but today has been quite a bit, and there’s more conversation to come.
“You hardly had any time to reflect on his death before reuniting with him again,” she says, gently. “I wondered if you had regrets about what happened on the Monolith.”
His arms drop; he doesn't regret anything that happened on the Monolith. It needed to be done. The delusions that Renoir drowned himself within were only killing him. The same with the Paintress. They were dying in front of him yet immortal. Watching them slowly erode away from what he once knew --
"I don't regret anything that happened."
But that doesn't mean he doesn't grieve for someone who is somehow present in the world.
“Alright,” she says, a little quieter. She believes him; it’s not a statement that leaves place for omission. “But you’ll tell me if something changes, yeah? One personal and private and painful story for another, if you want to keep with tradition.”
"I'm always happy to keep tradition. It wouldn't be tradition if a person gave up on it."
Verso takes a step back; the door is open and it doesn't seem like she has any other questions for him. He decides that he'll wander the rest of the apartment until it's time to leave. If he thinks about it more, he's probably just waiting to have one last conversation with Maelle, with Gustave if he wants.
But it is as Sciel said, he'll talk to Gustave when he wants rather than chase the man down to have a conversation. It wouldn't be right. What would that be? Demanding a cordial relationship when he's the one that caused the issue? Absolute cruelty.
He knocks his knuckles on the threshold of the kitchen and slips away.
He’s hurt, at least in the way a man used to parting from Expeditions can feel it, and it brings her no joy to have contributed to it. She’ll stand by it, though.
She can only nod as he goes, lips set together in a tight smile. No goodbyes because it isn’t one.
Sciel just turns and looks at the kitchen sink and wonders how long it’ll take to feel at peace with any of this.
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His other hand pulls back only so that he can gently rub the back of his neck. He supposes for someone who is as observant as Gustave that he gave too much of a cue with what he did, even if he did flirt with him after.
The area around his eye flinches slightly but he tips his head in a small nod. He agrees; he exhales slowly - it sounds almost like a mix between a sigh and laugh.
"No, that's fair." A slight smile.
He wonders if he could say how he felt when he woke up initially. Not in the hospital, but in a casino. He knew how much he would miss them; how much he loved them. But it didn't absolve him of any of his actions --
-- he lightly squeezes her hand.
So, it doesn't matter. What he felt and how he felt after is miniscule to whatever pain and heartache that they have.
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"You've earned your place with us," she reminds him. With anyone else, it would feel like coddling, but the time he's lived stretches on in her imagination, and it's too easy to imagine what it would be like to go years without even a temporary sense of belonging. "And in time, you and Gustave will get to know each other better."
Regardless of where that ends up.
She leans in too, peering into his eyes.
"Until then, I'll help you get set up in an apartment down the hall, yeah?"
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Another small agreement with her as he copies her gesture, rubbing his thumb over her hands, before he pulls one of them back.
He breathes out a little laugh.
"I'll be fine, Sciel." Verso reassures her as he almost can't stop himself from cupping the side of her face. "I've lived alone for a long time." His smile softens.
"I can manage setting up an apartment by myself." His chin dips down. "You should do what's best for you, for Gustave, for Maelle. I'll be fine."
He lifts her hands that still are holding his to lightly kiss the knuckle. Forgiving anything she may feel guilty about; there isn't anything to apologize for as far as he is concerned.
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"You're so dramatic," she says, but it's clear that's not a problem for her. "It's down the hall, not across the continent! I'll help strictly for my own amusement, if it saves you some sulking. And still see you every day, for that matter."
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"I thought you liked my dramatics." He tosses her an exaggerated frown as his hands drop. "I suppose we'll be able to be more--" Rolling his eyes, he pretends to think of the word, "--ourselves. Not have to worry about being quiet, either."
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She lets him catch her, bracing her feet against the floor like she might resist him. She could. There’s loyalty —— Gustave would be right to judge —— and against it, a deep sense that none of it matters. This is free time, and foisted upon her like this, she gets to use it to the best of her principles.
She lets him hold her, and she looks up at him as she leans a shoulder into his chest.
“You have to learn to be with people again, Verso.”
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He inclines his head toward her as he holds her wrist. It's a second of thinking that she might resist him before she lets him hold her. Tipping his head slightly, he lightly bumps his head against hers. He breathes out a little sigh; so many things tighten up in his chest but he can live with them.
"Gestrals and Grandis were easier." A little joke, a beat. "Do you have any questions for me?"
She saw more than any of the others; he wonders if there were concerns on the tip of her tongue that she didn't ever ask out of consideration. He doesn't think she needs to keep holding onto that consideration to him.
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"Not ones you'll like," she says. "Are you asking to be polite, or because you want to be questioned?"
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But he decides to correct her.
"I'm asking because I care about you, and thought I'd answer something you might be wondering." However, he pauses to lightly kiss the top of her head. "But emotions are pretty high at present -- I realize it might be a bit soon to do this."
His smile twitches as he decides to step back to let her go. As much as he wants to be considerate to her, as much as he wants to spoil her as he always says, he realizes he spoke impulsively. It's from the heart; he wants to offer something to someone who has only given him understanding. But he knows already he should wait until she's ready to ask those questions, too.
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Verso wants to give answers. He’s always been forthcoming with just enough to satisfy, at least for her. Is this just another duck and dodge? Does he think the appearance of being forthcoming will shame her out of asking?
“Alright,” she says, carefully. “I just have one question, then. Maybe two. The rest can wait.”
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His shoulders lift and lower. It's the Lune special. Only... she'd ask three.
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“Have you spoken to Renoir since coming here?” she asks.
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"I did. Twice." He flicks his finger to the side. "Once at the casino, which was a place that Gustave and I arrived at before here. And once while here, also at the water park."
His head tilts to the side. "Bit odd to have a chat in swimsuits, but it seems to be the time to have chats this time of the month." Another casual joke just before he crosses his arms.
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”Did you talk about anything that’s changed things, for you?” she asks. “Given what happened at the end, there.”
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Shifting how he stands, he tries to be a little more open. "More or less." A slight pause. "I hadn't spoken or seen him in years since I joined you all. But it was different in knowing he was alive somewhere out in the world. And I prepared myself for the time that he'd be dead and gone."
His eyes drift toward the floor.
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“You hardly had any time to reflect on his death before reuniting with him again,” she says, gently. “I wondered if you had regrets about what happened on the Monolith.”
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His arms drop; he doesn't regret anything that happened on the Monolith. It needed to be done. The delusions that Renoir drowned himself within were only killing him. The same with the Paintress. They were dying in front of him yet immortal. Watching them slowly erode away from what he once knew --
"I don't regret anything that happened."
But that doesn't mean he doesn't grieve for someone who is somehow present in the world.
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Verso takes a step back; the door is open and it doesn't seem like she has any other questions for him. He decides that he'll wander the rest of the apartment until it's time to leave. If he thinks about it more, he's probably just waiting to have one last conversation with Maelle, with Gustave if he wants.
But it is as Sciel said, he'll talk to Gustave when he wants rather than chase the man down to have a conversation. It wouldn't be right. What would that be? Demanding a cordial relationship when he's the one that caused the issue? Absolute cruelty.
He knocks his knuckles on the threshold of the kitchen and slips away.
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She can only nod as he goes, lips set together in a tight smile. No goodbyes because it isn’t one.
Sciel just turns and looks at the kitchen sink and wonders how long it’ll take to feel at peace with any of this.