I don't think I'd find any comfort in being called... [He starts, but decides finishing that sentence probably wasn't for the best. He shakes his head.]
You gave your pushes, yet you're still here. [He shifts his weight, standing his ground as the Outsider approaches.] Unless something cataclysmic is going to happen while my daughter's tutoring a Duke... I'm not doing anything outstanding, so I can't help but feel a little favored.
[DON'T. DADDY KINK HIM!! The Outsider isn't going to finish that sentence for him, either, because even he can see when Corvo is making it weird.
He is, however, still here. He hasn't pushed Corvo at all in fifteen years, but here he is, meandering closer until they're face to face, where he stops— and... looks up a little. That's different; it gets a thoughtful frown out of him, now. Their difference in height and not being accused of favoritism, that's what he's seriously reacting to - please keep this in mind.]
Were it such that some kind of earth-shattering disaster were poised to unleash itself on the Duke's palace, I can't help but think that at least one of us would be closer to the Empress' side. [just saying, daddy] And yet- [He holds one arm out in a grand but lazy gesture, toward the palace and its grounds and the ocean view beyond.] -here we are, on a quiet night, without a cataclysm in sight.
[Is he going to say it. The very air holds its breath. He folds his arms again. Considers.]
I wonder, has age made you forget how I've told you that you interest me?
[Context is everything, and right now context is stopping by in the dwindling hours of daylight to tell Corvo how interested in him that he is. So.]
[His shoulders tense for a brief moment, as he thinks perhaps he should be at Emily's side. What if the Duke had changed his mind, his own plans, with Jindosh recovering--
No. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to dwell on what could, and focus on what is. The Outsider was standing in front of him. The Outsider... was short.
He can't help but smirk at that.] Perhaps it has. Or maybe it's the fact disappearing for fifteen years might give the impression you lost any you might have had.
[All those years, and it's still difficult to meet those eyes. He braces himself for the chill down his spine, finally meets his gaze for more than a second.] I'm... glad. You haven't.
In one breath you tell me fifteen years is but the blink of an eye, and in the next, you fear that I would be the one to forget?
[It's good to know Corvo is still just a little bit of a mess, after all this time. He's settled into his second run at being Royal Protector, and the years sit well on his shoulders, but he still has that spark that held the Outsider's interest fifteen years ago.
And he is glad the Outsider hasn't lost interest in him, which is fascinating. The Outsider is interested in that, fittingly enough - it's rare that anyone who wants his attention is actually worth paying attention to. So, if Corvo wants him to look, and he would like to look... then there isn't a conflict of interest at all.
He lifts a hand, and the motion lacks his usual fluidity; since throwing Emily Kaldwin bodily into the Void, the last time he actually touched another person was— long, long ago. The motion halts briefly in the middle, unease, and then he reaches the rest of the way up to pat Corvo on the cheek.
This might be a little condescending, but look who Corvo is dealing with, here.]
If you wanted to speak to me, you could have asked. You could have even asked Anton Sokolov for advice. [jokes!!]
[Corvo finds himself without argument to that. Truth be told, he'd written off his encounters with the Outsider as brief entertainment. He was too young, and held too much weight on his shoulders to think on it any further. He had to raise Emily. He had to mourn Jessamine. He would have taken her attention over the god's any day, and... well, he still would.
But she was gone, and he'd finally accepted there wasn't anything he could do about that. The Outsider and his domain were unnerving, but he was company. Somewhat enjoyable company, given the circumstances. He hated to admit it, but he would if it meant he would see him again.
Because, unlike everyone else, the Outsider gave him honesty. He owed him some in return.]
Age has certainly made you bolder. [He repeats word for word, clearly to keep that humor going. Truth be told, he was afraid to get too serious when they were as close as this. Who knows what would happen.] If it were then, you would have disappeared by now. Yet now you're feeling my beard.
[Repeating his words back at him, clever, almost charming. How nice of Corvo to be irreverent about wanting to spend time with a godlike entity attached to a literal void of nothingness and misery. He certainly has a special kind of gall, that Corvo Attano.
The Outsider does not pull his hand away - he might have, if not for the attitude. Now he's doing it quite on purpose, patting at Corvo's cheek again and then simply laying his hand there, cooler to the touch than a normal human would be but not ripping Corvo's brains out through his ear, or anything. There is that.]
If it were then, wheels would need to be turned, and I would have only needed to stand back and watch. [You know, what he (pretty much) literally did.] You have had your turn as the Empire's catalyst, old friend, and now the young Empress steps up to take your place.
["You have nothing better to do so I'll just stay" - Outsider probably] And she has done a splendid job. Delilah— [Here, he lets his hand fall away, drawing it back to himself and touching fingertips to his own face as he looks away from Corvo; that unease, again.] Our usurped usurper's influence may be gone from the Empire, but the Void's memory is longer than time itself.
[Or maybe he's just paranoid, because he is, but it's still a little too creepy in his whale house. Beard touching is a clever distraction.]
[Corvo wasn't sure if he'd rather he pulled away over patting his cheek again. It was certainly a feat to get him to in the first place, but this? Now he doesn't know what to do with it. No one's held his face this long since Jessamine, with the exception of Delilah's hand getting shoved away.
He frowns, both at the retraction and the fact Delilah had made her way back into the conversation. He knew the look on the Outsider's face, because it was one he made frequently before Emily reassured him there was no way she could return.
He could take Emily's role in this, he supposes. As the Outsider withdraws, he reaches out to grip his shoulder.] The Void will recover. [Um. He doesn't know what else to say here, but he'll try.] The less it... the less you linger on what was, and look ahead to what will be. There is no future with Delilah in it. You would have seen it.
Will it? The Outsider knows Corvo means this to be a comfort (an odd feeling, certainly), but the man has a fundamental misunderstanding of the Void. It isn't his fault— Corvo is only a man, not a being of unspeakable vastness and emptiness wrapped up in itself, like the Outsider. The Void will recover. It changes, surely, so the assumption does have weight—
But when it recovers, it will more than likely lack the Outsider. He is the Void and the Void is him and yet it is not him, and one day it will tear him apart and someone or something else will take his place, perhaps seamlessly. Perhaps not.
It isn't comforting. That's the problem. He looks back at Corvo with that same disquiet, wondering...]
It's quieter here than in Dunwall. How does it feel to come back home?
[Petulant whale god, changing the subject?? Unheard of. He's a master of subtlety.]
[Corvo had a feeling the Outsider wouldn't answer. He'd probably said something stupid, considering, but it didn't stop him from trying. He's even forgotten to remove his hand until he spoke up again.
He blinked, retracting it and wringing his hands. Not only was the question abrupt, the answer was... complicated. He felt a great deal of things about coming home. Unfortunately, most of them weren't positive.]
I think I prefer the rats over the bloodflies. Their keepers are as mad as Granny Rags, but thankfully not as dangerous.
[He pauses to think further on it. His childhood home was in shambles, and there were so many crowded in the streets to avoid the Dust District.] The Duke's son did a good job of making sure it didn't feel like home any longer. But... he couldn't stop the people. They sing out in the streets. They always have. It's soothing.
We're going to be sticking around longer, making sure the streets are clear and the Abbey is getting itself back together. [He looks so annoyed at that fact, honestly.]
[Ha ha, oh Vera. The Outsider makes a face - not quite a smirk, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He'd make a snide remark about how she'd love to know she still has admirers, but Corvo probably wouldn't appreciate the extra snide part about how it's a shame someone murdered her.
Anyway.]
How is it that the Abbey can stomach two of mine having a hand in their business? Or is this "we" some trusted underlings of the Empress, and not Her Majesty and Her Majesty's heathen father?
[did you fucking miss him
The moment of palpable discomfort seems to have passed for the moment, at least; he puts his hands behind his back and turns from Corvo to walk past him, toward the ledge's edge where he peers down into the water. It truly is quieter here than Dunwall, bloodflies aside— some bugs dispatched by fire are much less of a menace than plague rats, considering they congregate, but honestly he doesn't care about that anyway. It's quiet here, but not in the way the Void is quiet. People sing.
A tour, is it? He straightens up, glancing at Corvo over his shoulder.]
You would be surprised how persuasive Emily can be with the Overseers, as opposed to my approach. [His approach was glaring them down until they finally cracked. No wonder it didn't do much. He was still bitter about the feeling those music boxes brought...
He turns to look back out at the sky, having gone from a setting pink to a deep, dark blue. The ocean is reflecting the lanterns off the patios, and the stars are starting to emerge from the sky. As it turns out, Emily had a lot of tutoring to do. Was he glad it gave them time to talk?]
Things you probably don't pay attention to, in the grand scheme of things. [He's totally making this up as he goes along, but,] There aren't many details about Dunwall that are worth looking for, besides...
[The way Samuel's smile warmed up the Hound Pits Pub, and how they never seemed to run out of whiskey. Callista and Emily's teachings in the booths, and how he'd always wind up getting scolded for distracting the Empress. Cecelia coming out of her shell in the company of real friends. Piero smelling out smoke and exploded whale oil.
[What a junkie... Tell the Outsider how good his magic feels, he'll love that. In the meantime he looks out over the water again, contemplative. Corvo has a point - the Outsider watches and the wheels turn, but he doesn't pay that much attention to the individuals (present company excluded). There have been just as many periods in history where none have been Marked as there have been where hundreds have at a time— it varies. There are so few, these days...
He can't know what Corvo is thinking of, of course. He can hazard a guess, and his guesses are correct the way one could guess which way the sun is going to set - pointlessly - but he won't actually touch the Void to Corvo's mind. The things it would do...
So, simply:] Then show me. It appears I've come into possession of some free time, but it won't last for very long.
[Corvo... didn't actually expect him to agree. The time they'd spent was already the length three or four of their meetings in Dunwall. He looks back at him, scrutinizing, trying to figure out any ulterior motive he might have.
He might as well follow through before he's dragged back into politics. He preferred the night sky, anyhow.
His Mark glows brightly before he disappears to a platform above without a word. He's on his way down the path to the carriage station with little explanation, to both the Outsider and the staring guards. Pointless for one, necessary for another lest he want to be fried.] Keep up.
[Oh— oh wow, there he goes. The Outsider doesn't lose track of him at all - funny, to think that he might - but rather his gaze follows Corvo's "path" up to the platform and beyond without comment.
Huh. Keep up, he says. Well.
Maybe at some other point during this tour he can be convinced to move around like a normal person and not a being capable of stepping between realities, but for now, he shifts minutely and quite suddenly melds back into the real world next to Corvo, peering at the waiting carriage.] No wonder you were so tight-lipped during the bad old days.
[Maybe if he keeps saying this, one of you killjoys will think he's clever.]
[Corvo probably should have jumped at that, but they both know he's already used to it by now. He's even waiting on him to appear. This is weird. He doesn't want to think about it.
He is, however, going to hold the door open for the Outsider like a gentlemen. The guards are staring. He's pretending they aren't.] You keep calling them the bad old days, like they really got any better.
[You're not clever my dude.] It was hard to come up with anything to say, when you saw what I saw. Or had a mouth full of things I don't want to remember.
[The guards can stare as long as they want, but they'll start to feel weirdly uncomfortable about it pretty soon. The Outsider isn't really trying, but there's no denying that being in his presence is too much even for some of his Marked, so even the layman who can't see him won't want to look at the empty space Corvo is speaking to for much longer.
You're welcome, Corvo.] After your family has dragged the Empire up out of the depths twice, you're still a pessimist? Hm.
[Hm. That's probably fair, but still: hm. He gets into the carriage anyway, sitting down and swiveling his gaze back to Corvo immediately. He sure is staring a lot, but this time he raises an eyebrow to go with it.]
Although you did nearly chew away the Rat Plague, all on your own. You have to give yourself some credit for that iron stomach.
[Corvo simply stares back at him in silence, considering how nice it would be to just shut the door and send him off to the city minus one Royal Protector. It wouldn't work, though, he knows this. He steps into the carriage with a sigh.] That was one time.
[He could have sat across from him for the sake of personal space, and yet he takes his seat next to the man. The lever to start the carriage was just as easily accessible on both sides, but he doesn't pay any mind when he pulls it.] At least it's not fermented red shark.
... When was the last time you ate anything, anyway?
One time? [He is always (or often) watching, Corvo. Maybe 15 years has made Corvo forget how many rats he ate!!
Corvo being right next to him means the Outsider has less room to fidget, though, which leaves him no choice but to watch Corvo do stuff. Like pull the lever. Fascinating.]
Long ago. [He'll spare the sad past speech, and how he must have been close to starving when he was sacrificed on a bed of stone, because they're having such a nice time out. But rest assured: it was something like that. He turns slightly on the seat, so he can lean his elbow on the side of the carriage.] But I know about the factories where they package red shark. I'll have to decline.
... Four times. [Corvo muttered under his breath and just gave him a look. Like bring it up again. See what happens.
He couldn't do anything to him, but. Whatever.]
Perhaps pear soda. [He leans back, turning to face the Outsider. He knew he had been staring this entire time, so it was time to return the favor.] I don't think I trust you with whiskey and cigars tonight. Or... ever.
[Good thing to talk about when he's distracted about how he looks under the rising moon. At this rate, he's past wondering why he's noticing these things.] I take it you won't be appearing to anyone.
[Four times!! The Outsider is delighted, and this time there's actually a real smirk there, but only for a split second. Blink and you'll miss it, indeed.
He waves off whiskey and cigars with his free hand, and his good behavior of actually sitting still lasts barely a minute longer. Very soon, he puts his feet up. On the other carriage seat. There is a decent amount of slouching involved to comfortably accomplish this.
This is the man who could bring a nation to its needs with a look, if he so desired. This is him, slouching in a carriage.]
So suddenly? Far be it from me to spoil the evening, dear Corvo. And certainly not while Her Majesty is trying to make nice with our fine friends at the Abbey. No, if I am going to appear to anyone, it will be for a reason.
[His hands, folded on his stomach for how he's nearly entirely laid down in this carriage, fiddle with a button on his jacket. Maybe he could try a pear soda... It's going to be weird, but maybe.]
[Corvo's just going to watch this disaster of a seating arrangement unfold with his own hands rested in his lap. Honestly, he would speak up if he weren't preoccupied thinking about that smirk. Who allowed him to do that?]
I... don't think... [He starts, leaning away to just look at him trying to take up his side of the carriage. He bit his lip, fighting off a laugh.] I don't think every citizen we pass by is going to recognize you. The half-starved, poorly cut look is unfortunately common.
[What about the artist behind the painting he and Emily absolutely kept? It's probably hanging in the safe room. He's going to ignore it. They were approaching the next station, anyway.]
[Well, his next dismissive gesture uses both hands, so there. He's literally a god to some of these people, or a bogeyman, or a mysterious creature of legend or whatever else— but each of the stories remember his black, black eyes.
Currently staring at his own feet, and after a moment of that, up at the sky from where he's remaining slouched.]
Ah, but for once, the Outsider will truly walk among them. [There's less crazed graffiti about him in Karnaca, compared to Dunwall, but the shrines still hum for how they're close, so he's within the bounds of making this joke.]
We're here. [He says, seconds before the carriage actually pulls into the station. He has to be like this, from down here. He'll get up and cooperate in a moment, it's fine.]
[His bounds for the joke was probably debatable to Corvo, but he won't say it. It was astonishing that he'd made so many in the past hour. He'll take the time before they arrive to laugh quietly to himself, given how uncomfortable getting up was probably going to be.
Except when he stands as the carriage stops, he offers his hand without thinking. The Outsider could stand up on his own, or simply appear outside the carriage, he remembered. He blanched, but it was too late to pull back now.
[The Outsider is bothering to sit up in the first place, rather than skip to just being outside the carriage already, and so he pauses when Corvo holds out his hand. Once again he isn't expecting that hand to be offered to him for any reason, and now it's to help him out of the carriage?
His eyebrows raise again in mild surprise. Hmm.]
Old habits die hard, Corvo? [He could just as well be talking about acting as Lord Protector, here, so please don't cross the wires too much. Less haltingly than before he moves to take Corvo's hand, but at the last moment slides his fingers past the Mark on Corvo's skin to take hold of his wrist instead.
In one fluid motion he pulls himself up to standing, and in the small standing space in the carriage, it's purely coincidence that he winds up as close to Corvo as he is now. Coincidence. There are those black eyes again.]
Now then, I came all this way, so I hope there's something interesting to see.
[Corvo already didn't know what to do with his own offer, so what follows is even more perplexing. The Outsider actually took his hand. He was much closer than Corvo had anticipated. He hadn't meant to meet those eyes. But he had, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
His unmarked hand misses the carriage the door in his lack of focus, but thankfully he grasps it on his second try. No, he wasn't anxious, he was just-- he was just. Off guard. Right. Explains the flush.
He hadn't let go of his hand when he stepped out of the carriage, he realized. How embarrassing.] I'm-- I'm already interesting enough to you to make up for it. You wouldn't be here otherwise.
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You gave your pushes, yet you're still here. [He shifts his weight, standing his ground as the Outsider approaches.] Unless something cataclysmic is going to happen while my daughter's tutoring a Duke... I'm not doing anything outstanding, so I can't help but feel a little favored.
[There. He said it.]
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He is, however, still here. He hasn't pushed Corvo at all in fifteen years, but here he is, meandering closer until they're face to face, where he stops— and... looks up a little. That's different; it gets a thoughtful frown out of him, now. Their difference in height and not being accused of favoritism, that's what he's seriously reacting to - please keep this in mind.]
Were it such that some kind of earth-shattering disaster were poised to unleash itself on the Duke's palace, I can't help but think that at least one of us would be closer to the Empress' side. [just saying, daddy] And yet- [He holds one arm out in a grand but lazy gesture, toward the palace and its grounds and the ocean view beyond.] -here we are, on a quiet night, without a cataclysm in sight.
[Is he going to say it. The very air holds its breath. He folds his arms again. Considers.]
I wonder, has age made you forget how I've told you that you interest me?
[Context is everything, and right now context is stopping by in the dwindling hours of daylight to tell Corvo how interested in him that he is. So.]
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No. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to dwell on what could, and focus on what is. The Outsider was standing in front of him. The Outsider... was short.
He can't help but smirk at that.] Perhaps it has. Or maybe it's the fact disappearing for fifteen years might give the impression you lost any you might have had.
[All those years, and it's still difficult to meet those eyes. He braces himself for the chill down his spine, finally meets his gaze for more than a second.] I'm... glad. You haven't.
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[It's good to know Corvo is still just a little bit of a mess, after all this time. He's settled into his second run at being Royal Protector, and the years sit well on his shoulders, but he still has that spark that held the Outsider's interest fifteen years ago.
And he is glad the Outsider hasn't lost interest in him, which is fascinating. The Outsider is interested in that, fittingly enough - it's rare that anyone who wants his attention is actually worth paying attention to. So, if Corvo wants him to look, and he would like to look... then there isn't a conflict of interest at all.
He lifts a hand, and the motion lacks his usual fluidity; since throwing Emily Kaldwin bodily into the Void, the last time he actually touched another person was— long, long ago. The motion halts briefly in the middle, unease, and then he reaches the rest of the way up to pat Corvo on the cheek.
This might be a little condescending, but look who Corvo is dealing with, here.]
If you wanted to speak to me, you could have asked. You could have even asked Anton Sokolov for advice. [jokes!!]
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But she was gone, and he'd finally accepted there wasn't anything he could do about that. The Outsider and his domain were unnerving, but he was company. Somewhat enjoyable company, given the circumstances. He hated to admit it, but he would if it meant he would see him again.
Because, unlike everyone else, the Outsider gave him honesty. He owed him some in return.]
Age has certainly made you bolder. [He repeats word for word, clearly to keep that humor going. Truth be told, he was afraid to get too serious when they were as close as this. Who knows what would happen.] If it were then, you would have disappeared by now. Yet now you're feeling my beard.
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The Outsider does not pull his hand away - he might have, if not for the attitude. Now he's doing it quite on purpose, patting at Corvo's cheek again and then simply laying his hand there, cooler to the touch than a normal human would be but not ripping Corvo's brains out through his ear, or anything. There is that.]
If it were then, wheels would need to be turned, and I would have only needed to stand back and watch. [You know, what he (pretty much) literally did.] You have had your turn as the Empire's catalyst, old friend, and now the young Empress steps up to take your place.
["You have nothing better to do so I'll just stay" - Outsider probably] And she has done a splendid job. Delilah— [Here, he lets his hand fall away, drawing it back to himself and touching fingertips to his own face as he looks away from Corvo; that unease, again.] Our usurped usurper's influence may be gone from the Empire, but the Void's memory is longer than time itself.
[Or maybe he's just paranoid, because he is, but it's still a little too creepy in his whale house. Beard touching is a clever distraction.]
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He frowns, both at the retraction and the fact Delilah had made her way back into the conversation. He knew the look on the Outsider's face, because it was one he made frequently before Emily reassured him there was no way she could return.
He could take Emily's role in this, he supposes. As the Outsider withdraws, he reaches out to grip his shoulder.] The Void will recover. [Um. He doesn't know what else to say here, but he'll try.] The less it... the less you linger on what was, and look ahead to what will be. There is no future with Delilah in it. You would have seen it.
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Will it? The Outsider knows Corvo means this to be a comfort (an odd feeling, certainly), but the man has a fundamental misunderstanding of the Void. It isn't his fault— Corvo is only a man, not a being of unspeakable vastness and emptiness wrapped up in itself, like the Outsider. The Void will recover. It changes, surely, so the assumption does have weight—
But when it recovers, it will more than likely lack the Outsider. He is the Void and the Void is him and yet it is not him, and one day it will tear him apart and someone or something else will take his place, perhaps seamlessly. Perhaps not.
It isn't comforting. That's the problem. He looks back at Corvo with that same disquiet, wondering...]
It's quieter here than in Dunwall. How does it feel to come back home?
[Petulant whale god, changing the subject?? Unheard of. He's a master of subtlety.]
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He blinked, retracting it and wringing his hands. Not only was the question abrupt, the answer was... complicated. He felt a great deal of things about coming home. Unfortunately, most of them weren't positive.]
I think I prefer the rats over the bloodflies. Their keepers are as mad as Granny Rags, but thankfully not as dangerous.
[He pauses to think further on it. His childhood home was in shambles, and there were so many crowded in the streets to avoid the Dust District.] The Duke's son did a good job of making sure it didn't feel like home any longer. But... he couldn't stop the people. They sing out in the streets. They always have. It's soothing.
We're going to be sticking around longer, making sure the streets are clear and the Abbey is getting itself back together. [He looks so annoyed at that fact, honestly.]
You're welcome to drop by for a tour.
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Anyway.]
How is it that the Abbey can stomach two of mine having a hand in their business? Or is this "we" some trusted underlings of the Empress, and not Her Majesty and Her Majesty's heathen father?
[did you fucking miss him
The moment of palpable discomfort seems to have passed for the moment, at least; he puts his hands behind his back and turns from Corvo to walk past him, toward the ledge's edge where he peers down into the water. It truly is quieter here than Dunwall, bloodflies aside— some bugs dispatched by fire are much less of a menace than plague rats, considering they congregate, but honestly he doesn't care about that anyway. It's quiet here, but not in the way the Void is quiet. People sing.
A tour, is it? He straightens up, glancing at Corvo over his shoulder.]
What is it that you want to show me?
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He turns to look back out at the sky, having gone from a setting pink to a deep, dark blue. The ocean is reflecting the lanterns off the patios, and the stars are starting to emerge from the sky. As it turns out, Emily had a lot of tutoring to do. Was he glad it gave them time to talk?]
Things you probably don't pay attention to, in the grand scheme of things. [He's totally making this up as he goes along, but,] There aren't many details about Dunwall that are worth looking for, besides...
[The way Samuel's smile warmed up the Hound Pits Pub, and how they never seemed to run out of whiskey. Callista and Emily's teachings in the booths, and how he'd always wind up getting scolded for distracting the Empress. Cecelia coming out of her shell in the company of real friends. Piero smelling out smoke and exploded whale oil.
They were all gone now. There was no "besides."]
... Things you'll blink and miss.
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He can't know what Corvo is thinking of, of course. He can hazard a guess, and his guesses are correct the way one could guess which way the sun is going to set - pointlessly - but he won't actually touch the Void to Corvo's mind. The things it would do...
So, simply:] Then show me. It appears I've come into possession of some free time, but it won't last for very long.
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He might as well follow through before he's dragged back into politics. He preferred the night sky, anyhow.
His Mark glows brightly before he disappears to a platform above without a word. He's on his way down the path to the carriage station with little explanation, to both the Outsider and the staring guards. Pointless for one, necessary for another lest he want to be fried.] Keep up.
[Some poor guy wondered who he was talking to.]
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Huh. Keep up, he says. Well.
Maybe at some other point during this tour he can be convinced to move around like a normal person and not a being capable of stepping between realities, but for now, he shifts minutely and quite suddenly melds back into the real world next to Corvo, peering at the waiting carriage.] No wonder you were so tight-lipped during the bad old days.
[Maybe if he keeps saying this, one of you killjoys will think he's clever.]
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He is, however, going to hold the door open for the Outsider like a gentlemen. The guards are staring. He's pretending they aren't.] You keep calling them the bad old days, like they really got any better.
[You're not clever my dude.] It was hard to come up with anything to say, when you saw what I saw. Or had a mouth full of things I don't want to remember.
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You're welcome, Corvo.] After your family has dragged the Empire up out of the depths twice, you're still a pessimist? Hm.
[Hm. That's probably fair, but still: hm. He gets into the carriage anyway, sitting down and swiveling his gaze back to Corvo immediately. He sure is staring a lot, but this time he raises an eyebrow to go with it.]
Although you did nearly chew away the Rat Plague, all on your own. You have to give yourself some credit for that iron stomach.
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[He could have sat across from him for the sake of personal space, and yet he takes his seat next to the man. The lever to start the carriage was just as easily accessible on both sides, but he doesn't pay any mind when he pulls it.] At least it's not fermented red shark.
... When was the last time you ate anything, anyway?
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Corvo being right next to him means the Outsider has less room to fidget, though, which leaves him no choice but to watch Corvo do stuff. Like pull the lever. Fascinating.]
Long ago. [He'll spare the sad past speech, and how he must have been close to starving when he was sacrificed on a bed of stone, because they're having such a nice time out. But rest assured: it was something like that. He turns slightly on the seat, so he can lean his elbow on the side of the carriage.] But I know about the factories where they package red shark. I'll have to decline.
[Don't try feeding him weird things...]
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He couldn't do anything to him, but. Whatever.]
Perhaps pear soda. [He leans back, turning to face the Outsider. He knew he had been staring this entire time, so it was time to return the favor.] I don't think I trust you with whiskey and cigars tonight. Or... ever.
[Good thing to talk about when he's distracted about how he looks under the rising moon. At this rate, he's past wondering why he's noticing these things.] I take it you won't be appearing to anyone.
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He waves off whiskey and cigars with his free hand, and his good behavior of actually sitting still lasts barely a minute longer. Very soon, he puts his feet up. On the other carriage seat. There is a decent amount of slouching involved to comfortably accomplish this.
This is the man who could bring a nation to its needs with a look, if he so desired. This is him, slouching in a carriage.]
So suddenly? Far be it from me to spoil the evening, dear Corvo. And certainly not while Her Majesty is trying to make nice with our fine friends at the Abbey. No, if I am going to appear to anyone, it will be for a reason.
[His hands, folded on his stomach for how he's nearly entirely laid down in this carriage, fiddle with a button on his jacket. Maybe he could try a pear soda... It's going to be weird, but maybe.]
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I... don't think... [He starts, leaning away to just look at him trying to take up his side of the carriage. He bit his lip, fighting off a laugh.] I don't think every citizen we pass by is going to recognize you. The half-starved, poorly cut look is unfortunately common.
[What about the artist behind the painting he and Emily absolutely kept? It's probably hanging in the safe room. He's going to ignore it. They were approaching the next station, anyway.]
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Currently staring at his own feet, and after a moment of that, up at the sky from where he's remaining slouched.]
Ah, but for once, the Outsider will truly walk among them. [There's less crazed graffiti about him in Karnaca, compared to Dunwall, but the shrines still hum for how they're close, so he's within the bounds of making this joke.]
We're here. [He says, seconds before the carriage actually pulls into the station. He has to be like this, from down here. He'll get up and cooperate in a moment, it's fine.]
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Except when he stands as the carriage stops, he offers his hand without thinking. The Outsider could stand up on his own, or simply appear outside the carriage, he remembered. He blanched, but it was too late to pull back now.
It was just a habit. That was all.
Except it was a habit he'd had with Jessamine.]
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His eyebrows raise again in mild surprise. Hmm.]
Old habits die hard, Corvo? [He could just as well be talking about acting as Lord Protector, here, so please don't cross the wires too much. Less haltingly than before he moves to take Corvo's hand, but at the last moment slides his fingers past the Mark on Corvo's skin to take hold of his wrist instead.
In one fluid motion he pulls himself up to standing, and in the small standing space in the carriage, it's purely coincidence that he winds up as close to Corvo as he is now. Coincidence. There are those black eyes again.]
Now then, I came all this way, so I hope there's something interesting to see.
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His unmarked hand misses the carriage the door in his lack of focus, but thankfully he grasps it on his second try. No, he wasn't anxious, he was just-- he was just. Off guard. Right. Explains the flush.
He hadn't let go of his hand when he stepped out of the carriage, he realized. How embarrassing.] I'm-- I'm already interesting enough to you to make up for it. You wouldn't be here otherwise.
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