(no subject)

[highborn]

WHO: Byerly & Vanadi
WHAT: The Morning After
WHEN: Backdated to Sonia's party
WHERE: Byerly's I think??
NOTES: it's post-sexy so whatever content warnings might be associated with that

[ It's been easy to fall into old habits, and it grows easier the longer he's in this world. Last night had been a dive straight back into them, all pleasant flirts, courtly dances, and good company. And then all the rest. Oh, it'd been good to lose himself for a while, to really appreciate another body in a way he hasn't in a while ...

... But he can't let go of all of his recent habits, and a keen discomfort sleeping next to a stranger is one of them. It's been a fitful and restless night, and just as the sun rises he decides he's willing to eschew manners and throw in the towel. He'll catch up with the man later, and make whatever apologies are necessary.

Vanadi sits himself up carefully, not quite willing to unduly disturb the form next to him. The man had been lovely company, there's no need to rouse him so early as this. He peels back the sheets, intending to collect his belongings, dress in the almost-dark, and see himself out. ]

Comments

[bouchonne]

[ One velvety, long-lashed eye slips open. ]

Yes, Vanadi?

[ Either he was faking the sleep or it was a light doze. Impossible to tell which. ]

[highborn]

[ Is it stupid, he wonders, or very confident, to sleep in front of as near a stranger as Vanadi is? Even feigned, it would have given Vanadi plenty of time to set any number of kitchen knives to murder.

But of course, he reminds himself, Byerly has already done just this, if in admittedly more mundane circumstances. And this isn't the time or place for such speculations. He holds the plate out before himself, half temptation and half offer. ]

Good morning again. [ He can't quite summon a smile, but the irritation is gone. He only looks tired. ] You'll have to tell me how I did. Some ingredients are universal, but some I've guessed at.

[bouchonne]

[ He pushes himself up to sitting, and takes the plate. A bite; a long chew, meditative, face thoughtful. A swallow.

And then a smile, and a phenomenally sincere: ]

It's exquisite.

[highborn]

[ His smile is small and weary, but sincere. A hand finds Byerly's knee, a lingering touch that he thinks might be intended as thanks.

All he says, though: ] I hear there are tables and chairs conveniently nearby, should you find yourself tired of countertops.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ By doesn't move, though. Instead, he cuts off a bite of the cake and then holds it to Vanadi's lips. ]

[highborn]

[ The move surprises him with its familiarity. This feels so very much like his old life that it strikes him as almost bizarre. Regardless, he leans to carefully accept the bite, and the smile lingers as he chews. ]

[bouchonne]

Proud of your work?

[highborn]

I'd not have served it if I weren't satisfied with it. But give me a bit of time to learn the tastes of this world, and I'll get back to you on proud.

[bouchonne]

Well, I'm impressed.

[ He takes a pleased bite. ]

Tell me you're going to eat.

[highborn]

[ A dismissive wave as he settles to a lean against the counter next to By. ]

I woke up without an appetite. Later.

[bouchonne]

You suggested breakfast.

[highborn]

[ A fair point -- the appetite disappeared sometime between then and now, so woke up may not be strictly accurate. He shrugs. ]

A whimsical stomach. I do hope you aren't offended.

[bouchonne]

On the contrary. I don't think I've ever had anyone cook me breakfast before. Like this.

[highborn]

[ This would be an excellent place for a little flirtatious schmoozing, to better secure a next time. He doesn't feel he has it in him today, though. Instead, as he watches the far wall: ]

Mm. It's been some time since I've cooked anything for anyone.

[ The tight feeling is back, if easier to manage at the moment. He shifts uncomfortably. ]

[bouchonne]

[ A bite. ]

I could tell.

[highborn]

[ A tiny, wry smile quirks one corner of his mouth. ]

You can just say it isn't to your taste.

[bouchonne]

[ Oh, come on. ]

By your behavior, dear fellow.

[highborn]

[ The small smile flashes briefly to a grin, then fades out. He shifts again, unable to find any comfort in his lean. ]

I know. [ And again the far wall has his close attention, and guilt tightens his shoulders. ] If I've ... seemed cross, it isn't any of your doing. Even at your most irritating, I must admit it isn't you.

[bouchonne]

[ Lightly ironic: ]

Yes, I did manage to deduce that.

[ Then, another bite: ]

Was one of your many scars earned, perhaps, in a kitchen?

[highborn]

Ah, no.

[ Embarrassment tints his guilty avoidance, and he rubs the inner elbow of his left arm. Strange to feel it flesh again, after so long spent stone. ]

I'm afraid there's ... no good reason or explanation for, ah, all of this.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ Another enthusiastic bite. ]

I'm afraid of heights, if that gives any comfort.

[highborn]

[ wearily: ] A reasonable fear, that one. I've always thought it comparable to being afraid of, say, bears.

[bouchonne]

Well, everyone should be afraid of bears.

[highborn]

Should be. [ He grimaces. ] I've known an idiot or two.

[bouchonne]

I hope you're not one of those fearless idiots.