faderift | closed ||

WHO: Caspar Perakis & Nikos Averesch
WHAT: a tearful reunion while waiting for some intel
WHEN: NOW. but at night.
WHERE: Darktown, where all romantic reunions take place.
NOTES: nah

"You're a fucking idiot," Nikos says, to the love of his life.

They have exchanged letters, written in code. Do not come to Kirkwall is a pretty clear directive, even after it is decoded. And yet Nikos had known, as he folded that last letter, that Caspar would come to Kirkwall anyways.

He can't, in words, explain why he wanted Caspar not to come. Part of it is maybe that Kirkwall positions Caspar too close to two people Nikos is not eager for him to encounter. He loves Marisol; he's related to Kostos. And Caspar is a different part of him that exists elsewhere, and always has. Better that it stay that way.

Kirkwall is also where Nikos was sent, to work. And when you are somewhere in the field, working, and suddenly the the head of the organization takes an interest in your particular corner of field and comes calling, it feels like a failure. In their line of work, failure often means cutting your losses and getting the fuck out of town. So it's not proper failure. And Caspar isn't the proper head of a proper organization; Caspar is, in fact, much more than that. For one, he's not Nikos' supervisor. They are, probably, equals, among other titles and pronouns and things. But Caspar is the one who smiles, who talks, who inspires, who makes people want to attend to what he has to say. Certainly it worked on Nikos. Still does, if he were to be truthful.

He is not letting it work on him today. In Darktown, in the back corner of a very dingy tavern, in a booth tucked into a nook with a low and greasy lamp hanging over it, Nikos has his arms folded over his chest and his arse half off the bench and a frown settled so deep on his face it looks as if it has stuck that way. Which would imply that his mother's warning has finally come true.

Crumpled on the table is a note that Nikos had discovered just today, written in that personal code. Two words, only: Broken Dog, and then the little symbol that Caspar uses in place of his name or his initial. Found stuffed under Nikos' door when he woke up this morning, setting the tone for the whole day.

Nikos has been at this table since the afternoon. He has plans, later--a handoff of the names of Van Markham supporters. He should be waiting there, staking out the site. Instead he has been here, drinking bad wine, since this afternoon. The sign outside--two halves of a dog, no written name--had been an obvious indication of where he is to meet Caspar, who is sidling up to the table now as if they were still schoolboys meeting for a drink after their last class. He looks well, which Nikos confirms in a glance. He looks fantastic, even in a bulky cloak. He wants to kiss him as much as he wants to punch him.

He settles instead for shoving the crumpled note across the table, so that it falls onto the seat of the built-in bench that Caspar will sit on.

"My contact expects me within the hour," he says, in a very low tone. "My contact expects to meet one man. You could have shown up earlier. Or not at all, as I suggested."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Only a little."

He echoes, thoughtfully, as if in agreement and with none of the weight the subject requires. He seems slightly distracted, though the cause of his distraction is entirely on topic. He's considering Nikos as a proper toff, making a genuine effort to fit into high society without making waves or offending gentle ladies, which is entertaining enough on its own. But then he's imagining Nikos the templar, which is so wildly outlandish that it's hard to sincerely call it appealing, but—

"Do you suppose they've left any uniforms? Storage, perhaps."

Nikos, staring moodily down at the water, now turns his attention back to Caspar. It's a slow shift, with plenty of comedic timing. The prow of the boat cuts through the water, filling the silence with a quiet rush.

The thing about Caspar is, he might be serious. Or he might be trying Nikos' patience. Or simply joking. And Nikos, looking at Caspar, does not know which it is, or even which he would prefer.

"I worry about you," he says, eventually. Which is, tellingly, neither a yes or a no.

closed ||

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