etrayalogs | tomorrow is here

"Ah, you're absolutely correct."

Verso pauses to look around where he could put the bird. Shifting, he turns around to carefully rests the bird on the surface of the piano. He has to adjust the legs a little to make sure that it won't just fall over.

"What you think? A place of honor if ever there was one here."

Maelle grins. She thought it could go in a corner somewhere, but if he wants to put it on open display, so be it.

"I think that's perfect... as long as you don't mind an audience at all times when you play."

"I certainly don't."

He leans towards her, lightly bumping her shoulder with his.

"I fear I thrive on it." His mouth widens into a teasing smile. A little laugh breathes itself through his nose and he lets out a little sigh. It breaks up some of the stuffy feeling in his chest, anyway. That feeling will come back on its own, but that's not her fault.

"Hey--" A pause. "--you weren't able to be part of all the excitement with casino. But I was able to acquire quite a few prizes from there. Want one?"

He's happiest here, she thinks, at a piano. She goes with that playful bump, exaggerated for how light it was, returning to rest her shoulder against his.

"It was a gift, not a trade," she points out with a smile. "Besides, you gave me that dagger. You wouldn't want me to become a spoiled brat, would you?"

What could be better than a weapon?

"I actually would love for you to become a spoiled brat, but you're right."

His head inclines in her direction. A familiar gesture, a familiar action.

"Daggers are better than any other prizes."

"Careful what you wish for," she says, an empty threat. Maelle likes her nice clothes and weapons, but other than that, an orphan going from home to home learned not to get terribly attached to material possessions. Maybe that will change here--but she thinks not, given her prized possession while living with Gustave and Emma had been her wardrobe.

"But, wait--how much did you actually take from that place?"

"I always am and yet I still do my wishing." His mouth splits open into another wide, teasing smile. He breathes in a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. Drifting his eyes along the ceiling, he is glad to not be looking at her when she asks her question.

"I feel as though I should plead ignorance on that one." Holding his hands open, he continues, "Who's to say?" He is; he's to say, but he won't.

Flicking his index finger at her, he adds, "However, I am also holding a few stuffed animals that a friend asked me to keep on hand. So -- there is that."

Maelle leans away so she can look at Verso fully, and he can see the skepticism on her face.

"Oh, a friend. I'm sure."

Just admit you want your very own stuffed animal collection, Verso.

"Well? Where are they? They should be allowed to breathe freely, and you're not hurting for space."

"It's true. I'm the Plushie Ambassador and she's the--" His head tilts back as he tries to remember all the titles that they gave one another. "--Queen Plushie of Legions. Or something."

Normally, he doesn't talk much about the other people that he knows. He likes to give all his attention to the person that he's speaking to, like there is no one else. It's only occasionally he asks questions about who they know -- which always is a good gauge of their emotions.

"They're in my Pictos' space. I intend to hand them out to those in need."

Maelle stares at him for a beat before laughing.

"You sound insane. Do you know that?" Because this is what pushes her to calling him crazy: Verso the Plushie Ambassador, and not Verso, the Man Cut in Half. This is the Verso she wishes Gustave knew. Just as funny as he is, but in a different sort of way that Maelle hasn't fully dissected.

"Yes, but--"

He tilts his head away as he points toward the ceiling, searching for a point to be had about his insanity regarding holding onto stuffed animals.

"--I don't really have anything else to say." His hand drops limply to his side. "I thought I'd come up with something, but it didn't come to me." Oh, well, he still intends to hand them out apropos of nothing to anyone.

"It's okay. You wouldn't be Verso if you weren't very odd," she tells him as if it's an undisputable truth. It does make her curious, however. This friend is real, she thinks.

"You've made friends here already?" She asks, tipping her head to the side. She supposes it would be easy for him. Odd as he may be, he's easy to speak with. He's funny and outgoing. Of course he'd already have bonds outside of Expedition 33.

"Thank you." He can't help but make a bit of a face about being told that he wouldn't be him if he wasn't odd, but he accepts it all the same. And the face he makes is more comically accepting than anything else.

"I've met people. I don't know if they're friends." An honest answer to a complicated subject for him. People enjoy his company but he knows that he keeps a distance with almost everyone that he knows. "We're just friendly acquaintances, at best."

"You used the word first, not me," she points out. It comes with a bump of her shoulder to his. That backtracking is a little too obvious.

"Family is complicated. Friends shouldn't be."

"Suppose I did." He inclines his head the opposite way.

His head tilts back toward her as he agrees partially with her statement. "Met any people that you've taken any liking to?"

Maelle presses her lips together in favor of frowning. Verso, asking the difficult questions.

"Not really. I haven't gone out much," she says honestly. And when she does, she's often glued to Gustave's side, unwilling to go too far for too long. She shrugs.

"I've never been very good at meeting people."

"That's fair."

He, at least, understands why she wouldn't. 'Course, he does humor the idea of telling her that she met him just fine, but that doesn't seem like the right thing to say.

"Still, it's a fairly big place. Not as big as the Continent but reasonably sized." His smile widens as he shifts so that he can properly look at her, again. "I hope you'll be able to go out when you feel up to it."

Better to put it like that, he thinks, than push to meet people. People will be there as she goes to be part of the world, after all.

Verso's no idiot. She knows he can guess why she hasn't been itching to go out and explore on her own, or approach too many people. Why, when she's just gotten Gustave back? How could she ever peel herself from his side, or willingly choose to approach a stranger on her own?

She decides to be honest.

"... it's difficult to be away from Gustave. I can't stop worrying something might happen."

Not that her being there would make a difference. It didn't last time.

"I know." His voice softens.

He isn't sure if he can give her any reassurances and in truth, he knows he shouldn't. The fears she shouldn't be reassured away; he tips his chin down as he agrees with himself on a few points.

"And that's all right." To be afraid, to need time until she feels safe, until she feels like he'll be safe. It might awhile but he doesn't see why that has to be rushed.

Everything takes time.

"Don't feel pressured about being away from him until you feel ready." While he can't say that he's completely happy with offering this out for her, he also feels like he forced a lot on her without her even knowing. So, this is the least he can do.

"Everything will still be out there waiting for you, yeah?"

It's strange to feel like she wants to stay put. The apartment, bare and empty save for the people she cares about, is enough. More than enough.

"... what if I never feel ready?" She asks, regarding Verso with a gaze that searches for some piece of wisdom or advice. Even now, sitting comfortably with Verso, some part of her frets.

If they have so much time before them, she can't spend every moment with Gustave. She knows she needs to learn to be okay, trust that he won't disappear (in a different way than she worries Verso might disappear, one unwillingly and one willingly), but it feels impossible.

"You will." This time he does feel like he should reassure her of his hope.

His head does its little bob before he adds, "Gustave also would want you to eventually be part of the world, I'm sure." From the stories that he heard of him, he believes that much about him, as well. He wouldn't want Maelle to be stunted or locked away in fear of the unknown -- unknown of what could happen to loved ones or herself.

"But you also don't need to rush it." Warmer: "You'll get there."

You'll get there. The patience in the words makes her smile, but that might just be the relief. She doesn't itch to get away anymore. Not after losing Gustave. She's happy to stay put.

"You sound very optimistic for someone who hasn't known me very long," Maelle says wryly. "Strange, if you ask me."

"Well, you did say I'm quite odd." A casual reply greets her.

"True," she agrees. "Like, actually the strangest person I've ever met."

Immortal, a century old, and constantly hiding the truth in one way or another. Not someone Maelle would ever imagine hanging out with, let alone caring about as much as she does, but here they are.

That just makes her stranger, too.

"And when you meet someone stranger, I truly will be heartbroken."

He clasps both of his hands against his chest like he has been struck. Leaning to the side, he continues to act out being shot before sitting properly on the piano stool.

"You feeling a little better about--" The usual head bob. "--things?"

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