[There's nothing wrong with bringing up rats all the time, for the record. It doesn't stop Corvo from kissing him, evidently, so he's learned that he can do it all the time without consequence.
In any case, his attention didn't waver in the past five seconds but it's somehow fixed even more on Corvo, now that his lips are so close again. Stay until morning...]
[Ah— they've been kissing for maybe-an-hour, and being peppered with these quick kisses now is still surprising. Who knew Corvo could be so affectionate (everyone in Dunwall besides the Outsider, while Jessamine was alive, but never mind that--).]
A formal invitation from the Lord Protector? [There is always a choice, he'd said earlier, and this one is apparently his - so.] How could I possibly refuse?
[Corvo almost tells him that he could refuse, but thankfully he realized he already knew that before he said yet another stupid thing. He'll just kiss the Outsider one more time before they untangle from one another.
A hand-holding journey back to the carriage (and probably more kissing in the carriage) later, Corvo had blinked to the second floor. He could have easily just... taken the elevator to the room... but sneaking through sexier.
Except he was staring at the Outsider expectantly.] Come on, now.
[This has been one hell of an evening. Having gone from floating around stating but never acting any further on his very obvious interest in Corvo, the Outsider is starting to fall back into uncomfortable thoughts as they get closer and closer to the palace. He enjoys kissing—that isn't really in question at all—but what exactly is he doing? What are they both doing, acting like this is at all normal behavior?
There is a part of him that is still afraid. He fears his own existence, so it stands to reason that as comfortable as he is around Corvo and how different (pleasantly so) it feels to be physically close to him, he is still... hesitant. He couldn't refuse; but is that in itself necessarily a good thing?
All of these unspoken thoughts culminate in him loitering outside the window, considering.] Corvo... Have you no lingering doubts?
[The turning of the world does not hinge on his questions, this time, but throw him a bone here or something.]
[Corvo had been so wrapped up in what lied physically ahead that he hadn't really concerned himself with existential. Of course he had doubts, they'd be swimming in his head since he first met him. That didn't stop him from wanting.
Perhaps he shouldn't have acted so impulsively. He frowned, leaning against the window and watching the Outsider with concern. For him, and his choices this evening.] It sounds like you are. Are you alright? Is it...
[His mortality? His age? How uncharacteristic this was of him, given his past attitude...? The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn't want to guess.]
[It's all of those things and more: the Void, the very idea of acting like a human being when he hasn't been one in so long, when that was stripped of him so thoroughly; he has no memory of affection or kindness or love, save for a fleeting moment that might have been his mother and might have been the desperate fabrication of a mind too young and lonely to believe that not a single soul in the world cared that he was still alive.
4,000 years is a long time to spend drowning. So. He hesitates outside Corvo's window, and maybe it would benefit Corvo to know that his doubts have very little to do with Corvo himself, but articulating the fear that comes to him as naturally as breathing is... a little difficult. Always, he wants to escape. Perhaps his last moments on that stone table shaped his future in the Void, and that is why—perhaps not at all.
But. Despite everything about him, Corvo stands there and asks, Are you alright? And it is as if a stone turns over in his mind that shifts the ways of everything. Is he alright?
... Does it matter? It seems to matter more that after 4,000 years, someone has bothered to ask. He blinks at Corvo and then moves closer, hands seeking out either side of his face to draw him into another kiss.
So that existential crisis is postponed for at least a day.]
[Corvo parts his lips, on the verge of asking again, to help in any way he can... But as it turns out, words were not the solution to these doubts tonight. He rests his hands over the Outsider's, squeezing them gently as if it were enough to say it would be fine.]
Come.. [He mutters after a sizable amount of time, withdrawing back into the palace with the Outsider's hands still in his.]
[Fine is a stretch. It will be... not terrible, the Outsider thinks. Corvo can set his mind at ease for a little while, and that is worth holding onto while he ruminates on the rest. So when Corvo moves, he lets himself be led into the room, finally, his hands and gaze not leaving Corvo's face.
Well. Here they are.
..... he won't mention anything about the room, but he can tell. He glances away from Corvo's face for only a few seconds, to confirm - yes, he won't say a thing.] Does the Empress need to know you've returned?
[jw... does he get to monopolize all of Corvo's time here, still,]
[Corvo was none the wiser, and that... that was probably for the best. He wouldn't rest easy, knowing the woman that plotted his daughter's death had lain here, or that the far off painting was used for that so long ago.
He only thought of his alive and well daughter, looking towards the doors and considering. He probably should considering how long he'd been gone, but.] It's late, and I don't think Wyman would appreciate the interruption. There's probably a reason she didn't come and find me.
[How awkward that would be, finding the father that claimed a dislike of the Outsider to be wrapped up in him. She'll have an opportunity in the morning, because he's turning to head for the bedroom.]
[One day when they aren't anywhere near the Duke's palace, someone will fill Corvo in on the details. But certainly not now. The Outsider follows his gaze to the doors, considering marginally less - he could politely ask who Wyman is, but he's a god, he already knows - so perhaps he'll leave alone the notion that the Empress hasn't come to check in on her father because she's engaged in much the same thing her father is engaged in right now.
People tend to get weird about that kind of thing, a fact he's found hasn't changed in 4,000 years. So - silently he lets Corvo take the lead, and he might just be hovering off the floor so all Corvo really has to do is walk and the Outsider, still attached to him, will be there. This is what Corvo is signing up for...]
In the morning, let me explain everything. [Do not let him explain everything.]
I'm not sure if I'll hear everything, but... [At least he's being honest. Corvo knew half the time things the Outsider said went one ear and out the other. It wasn't that he didn't want to listen, but... there was always so much to process.
He slows to a stop at a trunk besides the bed, starting at the button of his first vest... hoodie. Thing. All those layers.] How about we worry about what everything entails in the morning? After coffee at most.
[Regardless of if the Outsider might obstruct it, he's shrugging off the first vest for the next. So many layers...]
[The Outsider hums, moving (...gliding) past Corvo to perch on the edge of the bed and watch him start in with his many vests. He holds back on quipping that maybe he'll explain everything to Emily instead, if Corvo can't handle it—they've just established that it's too late to consider the young ones now, so. He'll leave it.]
Perhaps it would help if I drew you a picture. [hah....and check out all of these vests. He's just sitting here, watching. Hmm.]
I would love to see that. [Corvo chuckled, carelessly dropping his clothes into the laundry pile. He'll do those later... or never. Probably never. Dirty rat man.] Something of Emily's caliber, I'm sure.
[There goes the second vest. And his pants buckle. He stops with his fingers on the buttons of his shirt, looking between it and the Outsider. He'll... leave that on? Unsure.
[Rude, what if he's a master artist? Well, his stick doodles will probably be a little too creepy and unnerving to frame anyway, but he might actually still draw something to make a point.
But hm, the very interesting disrobing has stopped. Why?? What's he doing? The Outsider looks at him for a beat longer, then looks down at himself and wordlessly moves to unbutton his jacket. When was the last time this thing came off? It, too, is older than the rocks this whole empire is built on.]
[He best be prepared for Corvo to laugh if he does. And... probably keep it close.
Corvo's too distracted to think about that, though, falling silent and wide-eyed. He wasn't certain of undressing himself, but to think it was that easy to get him to...]
Um. [He cleared his throat, looking back and now fumbling with his own buttons.] I just wasn't sure if you were... comfortable.
[He saw him in Coldridge, stripped of everything and beaten bloody. Why should he care now? Corvo was stupid.]
[The rudest rat boyfriend in the world?? He's very lucky the Outsider likes it when he laughs, all things considered.
And it turns out he likes it when Corvo is flustered, too. To think, he even has experience in... romance. In not wearing jackets around other people. The Outsider smirks down at his fingers.]
You aren't, so I will be. I'd say that's an even trade, wouldn't you?
Y... Yeah. Sure. [No?? Corvo looks ahead, about at the point of ripping open this damn thing. But no, he'd put too much work into attaching his Mark's cover. He'll struggle.
After about a minute, the shirt falls from his shoulders. He turns and stretches out his arms, joints popping and neck cracking before he unceremoniously fell into bed beside the Outsider. What a tired old man.] Where did you ever get that?
[He gestures lazily towards him, staring at the jacket. Did he just... create buttons... just to spice things up??]
[One day, he'll make fun of that Mark cover. Just wait. For now he only fiddles with his buttons, jostled and swaying a little when Corvo flops down next to him. Hey...]
I was dressed in it. [why is he like this, no he wasn't dressed in a dumb leather jacket] The buttons are new.
I hope it wasn't to impress your favorite. [He's really never letting that go, now.
Corvo smirks, running a hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling. Not that he really... liked the buckles that much... he's just being smart.] ... Not that that hasn't worked.
[Corvo's fetish for buttons... goodness. The Outsider finally shrugs off the jacket, considering it before dropping it over the side of the bed. It might just materialize back onto him in the morning, who knows. But now, look: a normal shirt.
He leans back on his hands, looking down at Corvo.]
You are a thoroughly unique man, Corvo. I'm... flattered.
A feat that no history books will know. Tragic. [Corvo put a hand over his heart in mock disappointment, turning his head to look up at the Outsider.]
... I didn't think I'd want to see your face again, let alone see you like this. [Insulting, or just the truth? Probably a little bit of both. He sits up enough to lean back on his elbows.] It's... different.
... It's nice. [He just looked closer to Emily's age than he did him. God, this was weird.]
I could always whisper to the royal historian in her dreams, see to it that Corvo Attano's profound interest in buttons is recorded for generations to come. [And then, decades after Corvo is no more, if the Outsider is still in the Void, it will be his private joke to look back on fondly.
But anyway, that's a thought for later. He's still looking at Corvo, but now perhaps his chest rather than his face. He has fifteen years and less blood to catch up on, let him live.]
I am beginning to think you've been flattering me on purpose. [no....... surely not]
Not before I start a rumor that the Outsider preys on middle-aged men. [First Daud, now Corvo. It wasn't exactly unbelievable.
Corvo follows the Outsider's eyes to his chest, his grin fading and lips thinning. He'd gotten his first scar before he went to Dunwall, and now he couldn't count them. Long since closed bullet wounds, deep cuts from the Watch and enemies alike. And not to mention burns from both his days and Coldridge. There was a reason that man met a painful end.
But it'd only hurt half as much as Corvo endured.] Do I need a reason to flatter you?
[WOW..... look, he didn't even get to kiss Daud.] I daresay the reverse would be more accurate, if one considers the type of men interested in my gifts.
[Anton.
Anyway, while he's here, he might as well casually reach over and press a finger to one of those scars. His own body is so much the Void, so inhuman despite appearances, that it looks like he's never suffered so much as a papercut in his life—indeed, his throat is pristine now, as if no one had ever touched it. And here is Corvo, Void-touched but still scarred from the trials of his own lifetime.
He is a living map of the history of this Empire, the Outsider thinks. The books and songs will record the brightest days, touching briefly on the darkness only to briefly nod that it had happened once. Corvo's scars tell a very different tale.
But they're talking about flattering him? So. His eyebrows raise, almost curiously.] Do you have a reason?
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In any case, his attention didn't waver in the past five seconds but it's somehow fixed even more on Corvo, now that his lips are so close again. Stay until morning...]
Are you going to sneak me in through the window?
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[Not that they can see him, anyway. His daughter and Dark Vision, though... Whatever. He'd think about it later.] What do you say...?
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A formal invitation from the Lord Protector? [There is always a choice, he'd said earlier, and this one is apparently his - so.] How could I possibly refuse?
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A hand-holding journey back to the carriage (and probably more kissing in the carriage) later, Corvo had blinked to the second floor. He could have easily just... taken the elevator to the room... but sneaking through sexier.
Except he was staring at the Outsider expectantly.] Come on, now.
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There is a part of him that is still afraid. He fears his own existence, so it stands to reason that as comfortable as he is around Corvo and how different (pleasantly so) it feels to be physically close to him, he is still... hesitant. He couldn't refuse; but is that in itself necessarily a good thing?
All of these unspoken thoughts culminate in him loitering outside the window, considering.] Corvo... Have you no lingering doubts?
[The turning of the world does not hinge on his questions, this time, but throw him a bone here or something.]
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Perhaps he shouldn't have acted so impulsively. He frowned, leaning against the window and watching the Outsider with concern. For him, and his choices this evening.] It sounds like you are. Are you alright? Is it...
[His mortality? His age? How uncharacteristic this was of him, given his past attitude...? The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn't want to guess.]
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4,000 years is a long time to spend drowning. So. He hesitates outside Corvo's window, and maybe it would benefit Corvo to know that his doubts have very little to do with Corvo himself, but articulating the fear that comes to him as naturally as breathing is... a little difficult. Always, he wants to escape. Perhaps his last moments on that stone table shaped his future in the Void, and that is why—perhaps not at all.
But. Despite everything about him, Corvo stands there and asks, Are you alright? And it is as if a stone turns over in his mind that shifts the ways of everything. Is he alright?
... Does it matter? It seems to matter more that after 4,000 years, someone has bothered to ask. He blinks at Corvo and then moves closer, hands seeking out either side of his face to draw him into another kiss.
So that existential crisis is postponed for at least a day.]
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Come.. [He mutters after a sizable amount of time, withdrawing back into the palace with the Outsider's hands still in his.]
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Well. Here they are.
..... he won't mention anything about the room, but he can tell. He glances away from Corvo's face for only a few seconds, to confirm - yes, he won't say a thing.] Does the Empress need to know you've returned?
[jw... does he get to monopolize all of Corvo's time here, still,]
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He only thought of his alive and well daughter, looking towards the doors and considering. He probably should considering how long he'd been gone, but.] It's late, and I don't think Wyman would appreciate the interruption. There's probably a reason she didn't come and find me.
[How awkward that would be, finding the father that claimed a dislike of the Outsider to be wrapped up in him. She'll have an opportunity in the morning, because he's turning to head for the bedroom.]
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People tend to get weird about that kind of thing, a fact he's found hasn't changed in 4,000 years. So - silently he lets Corvo take the lead, and he might just be hovering off the floor so all Corvo really has to do is walk and the Outsider, still attached to him, will be there. This is what Corvo is signing up for...]
In the morning, let me explain everything. [Do not let him explain everything.]
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He slows to a stop at a trunk besides the bed, starting at the button of his first vest... hoodie. Thing. All those layers.] How about we worry about what everything entails in the morning? After coffee at most.
[Regardless of if the Outsider might obstruct it, he's shrugging off the first vest for the next. So many layers...]
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Perhaps it would help if I drew you a picture. [hah....and check out all of these vests. He's just sitting here, watching. Hmm.]
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[There goes the second vest. And his pants buckle. He stops with his fingers on the buttons of his shirt, looking between it and the Outsider. He'll... leave that on? Unsure.
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But hm, the very interesting disrobing has stopped. Why?? What's he doing? The Outsider looks at him for a beat longer, then looks down at himself and wordlessly moves to unbutton his jacket. When was the last time this thing came off? It, too, is older than the rocks this whole empire is built on.]
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Corvo's too distracted to think about that, though, falling silent and wide-eyed. He wasn't certain of undressing himself, but to think it was that easy to get him to...]
Um. [He cleared his throat, looking back and now fumbling with his own buttons.] I just wasn't sure if you were... comfortable.
[He saw him in Coldridge, stripped of everything and beaten bloody. Why should he care now? Corvo was stupid.]
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And it turns out he likes it when Corvo is flustered, too. To think, he even has experience in... romance. In not wearing jackets around other people. The Outsider smirks down at his fingers.]
You aren't, so I will be. I'd say that's an even trade, wouldn't you?
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After about a minute, the shirt falls from his shoulders. He turns and stretches out his arms, joints popping and neck cracking before he unceremoniously fell into bed beside the Outsider. What a tired old man.] Where did you ever get that?
[He gestures lazily towards him, staring at the jacket. Did he just... create buttons... just to spice things up??]
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I was dressed in it. [why is he like this, no he wasn't dressed in a dumb leather jacket] The buttons are new.
[So, yes. Is he spicy yet??]
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Corvo smirks, running a hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling. Not that he really... liked the buckles that much... he's just being smart.] ... Not that that hasn't worked.
[Extra spicy.]
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He leans back on his hands, looking down at Corvo.]
You are a thoroughly unique man, Corvo. I'm... flattered.
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... I didn't think I'd want to see your face again, let alone see you like this. [Insulting, or just the truth? Probably a little bit of both. He sits up enough to lean back on his elbows.] It's... different.
... It's nice. [He just looked closer to Emily's age than he did him. God, this was weird.]
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But anyway, that's a thought for later. He's still looking at Corvo, but now perhaps his chest rather than his face. He has fifteen years and less blood to catch up on, let him live.]
I am beginning to think you've been flattering me on purpose. [no....... surely not]
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Corvo follows the Outsider's eyes to his chest, his grin fading and lips thinning. He'd gotten his first scar before he went to Dunwall, and now he couldn't count them. Long since closed bullet wounds, deep cuts from the Watch and enemies alike. And not to mention burns from both his days and Coldridge. There was a reason that man met a painful end.
But it'd only hurt half as much as Corvo endured.] Do I need a reason to flatter you?
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[Anton.
Anyway, while he's here, he might as well casually reach over and press a finger to one of those scars. His own body is so much the Void, so inhuman despite appearances, that it looks like he's never suffered so much as a papercut in his life—indeed, his throat is pristine now, as if no one had ever touched it. And here is Corvo, Void-touched but still scarred from the trials of his own lifetime.
He is a living map of the history of this Empire, the Outsider thinks. The books and songs will record the brightest days, touching briefly on the darkness only to briefly nod that it had happened once. Corvo's scars tell a very different tale.
But they're talking about flattering him? So. His eyebrows raise, almost curiously.] Do you have a reason?
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