[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?
[Corvo didn't put as much thought into the imperfections in his skin. The life that had given them to him was the only life he knew, and he considered it to be normal. When one's whole world is in darkness, their eyes have to adjust to the light.
His heart was still beating. That was the only thing that mattered. And right now it was skipping for the man before him, so it wasn't all bad.]
I don't have any ulterior motives for getting you in my bed, if that's what you mean. [He chuckled, looking back to the Outsider's face. He should have a scar on his neck, but he knew better not to ask.] Perhaps it's to make up for all the curses I wished on you. Or that I just want to.
[He says this... after getting the Outsider in his bed, of course. This is the problem with middle-aged men, probably. The Outsider looks back at him evenly, nonplussed by the admission of curses.
That's the thing about being a god; he hears everything directed to him, whether it's polite or not.]
I'm not sure I would like it if you put up your own shrine. [Too needy. Just throw a rune into the ocean and scream, he'll show up.] This- [he waves a hand back and forth between them] -is just fine as is.
I don't think I'm all too fond of the idea of getting my hand cut off should the Abbey come around, either. [Corvo sighed, pulling himself up into sitting position so he could move and lay properly across the bed.
He's not used to the idea of having a bed partner, so it takes him a moment to realize he should probably make some changes. He reaches behind a pillow to remove the gun from beneath it, laying it on one of the bedside table next to empty vials of sleep darts. One for precautions, the other when he couldn't manage to sleep on his own. There were quite a few.
What else... Oh, right. He'll actually move over to leave one side open.] Don't get desperate. Good to know.
[Yeah, where will he put his Mark then... anyway, Corvo is moving all around again, leaving the Outsider to shift out of the way and pull his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed and watch him. Again. His gaze follows the gun and lingers on the vials, but he doesn't ask - what else would those be for?]
Very good, Corvo. Don't get desperate. [like Anton] I trust you have the sense to keep that in mind even without my reminders.
[And then he just... sits there. It takes him a moment to realize he's supposed to lie down before he shifts and does, stiffly, lying on his back with his hands folded on his chest. He's not even bothering with the sheets, look at this.]
Corvo. [He turns his head to look at him, hello.] I don't sleep.
[This is... nice? Corvo doesn't know. He's a little uncomfortable, honestly, with all the years of sleeping alone. The Outsider wasn't exactly the first night since Jessamine, but he was the least likely candidate.
So he just... stares. Not directly at him, but the Mark on his hand. So much has changed. He wasn't making the best decisions.
What the Outsider just said was case and point.] Oh.
[That's all he can think to say, initially. Oh. Uh. Right. Shit.] ... Yet you've indulged me this far. Stay?
[To be fair, Corvo does have a point. The Outsider has been indulging him all night, ever since letting him take him around on a city tour, so why stop here? It isn't as if he hasn't enjoyed himself amidst the existential crises.
He hums. What harm can one night do?] So be it.
[He could stand to be more romantic... but he turns onto his side and holds out an arm pointedly. Holding Corvo for like five minutes earlier was comfortable, so indulge him now while he lies awake here all night.] Come here.
[Corvo isn't surprised when he's relieved this time. He was exhausted, and the idea of laying awake and alone again just wasn't as appealing. He parts his lips to speak when the Outsider moves, instead turning in silence with furrowing brows.
Oh, he shouldn't get used to this. He knows it can only hurt him later, he knows he'll miss it dearly if it's torn away from him. Yet he still moves under the Outsider's arm, his own going around him to make sure he was staying.] ...Thank you.
[Surely nothing could go wrong with this arrangement. The Outsider is not an optimist by nature, not at all, but... well, to say he's hopeful about this still isn't entirely true.
But he's looking forward to it, almost. He wraps his arm around Corvo to hold him closer, answering him first with another hum.]
Don't thank me, Corvo. You know better. [...teasing, but.] Sleep.
Mm... [Corvo mumbles in response, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the Outsider's chest. The ever persistent tension in his shoulders relaxed, with it probably being the fastest he's slept without aid in years.
Who knew he'd be using a god as a pillow. Emily, probably, but she won't disturb her father in the morning.]
[So this is staying until morning. The Outsider does not sleep, as promised, but he does mercifully stay where he is. He could easily fade in and out around the room, maybe read something, go through these old Delilah things... but the weight of Corvo lying against him keeps him there, fascinated by Corvo and his own desire to stay there in the first place.
There are plenty of things to think about—will he do this again, will he want to? He suspects Corvo wouldn't turn him out of bed, the way he's sleeping so soundly. So then, the logistics of this... Being involved with someone in any way but especially a staying-until-morning way certainly does remove a layer of detachment from the way he watches the wheels turn, but then, Corvo was already his favorite. He supposes rooting for someone spoiled any impartial distance he held fifteen years ago, and besides, the Void has no rules.
Corvo's hair is soft, he thinks in between all of these other things. Corvo's weight in his arms is warm, and that could very well be enough. The Outsider will be there in the morning, awake long before the rest of the palace begins its day with the earliest shift of guards and maids rising from bed, and since the Empress is likely to spend her morning wrapped up in someone much like this, he supposes there is still time before someone wants Corvo to join them for politics.
The Outsider still nudges his shoulder to wake him up. Rise and shine and pay attention to him.] It's morning, Corvo.
[Corvo wasn't fond of mornings. It was more often than not that he woke to a lingering feeling of dread, nightmares full of plague bodies plummeting and that distinct sound when they hit the ground. Or a lingering feeling of sadness over the longing of Jessamine. Or a combination of both: his love a Weeper, taking him with her in death.
This morning Corvo didn't want to get up, it seems. He was having pleasant dreams of the Hounds Pits Pub. He groaned, scrunching his nose and turning his head into the pillow.
Wait a moment.
The Outaider was still here. Corvo opens his eyes, staring blearily in mild disbelief.] You didn't leave.
[Boy, is that flattering. Not that the Outsider blames him; he is still here, and that is as unexpected as his arrival in the first place. But now that Corvo is awake, he feels he's quite free to shift and sit up properly, whether Corvo stays close against him or not. There is always his lap to stare at him blearily from.]
I made the choice. [did you want him to be Serious before breakfast, well here he is] Although I believe the phrase you're looking for is "good morning."
Oh, I'm sorry. [Corvo rolled his eyes, moving his arms around the Outsidee'/ waist and laying his head on his lap instead. He'll use him as long as he can, knowing there was another long day ahead of him.] Good morning.
[He's just going to shut his eyes and pretend the sun isn't rising yet.] I hope you haven't kept some unfortunate soul waiting.
Yes, he's decided this was worth it. Corvo all but curls up in his lap and the Outsider's hand finds its way into his hair almost immediately, ruffling his bedhead lightly before he threads his fingers through. Thanks to Corvo, he's learned how to tousle hair for fun and profit, enjoy.]
There's always something. Perhaps they'll use my silence to their advantage and put a little more blood into it, next time. [Metaphor? Not metaphor? It's never clear.]
[It was a good thing Corvo liked the fingers through his hair so much, otherwise he might have gotten more annoyed than he was.] You know who winds up stepping in those messes when you don't go see them? This guy.
[Why did they have to be so messy... ugh, maybe he should get up. He yawns, turning his head to look up at him.] You're making it very difficult to get up, you know. [By like, existing.]
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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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His heart was still beating. That was the only thing that mattered. And right now it was skipping for the man before him, so it wasn't all bad.]
I don't have any ulterior motives for getting you in my bed, if that's what you mean. [He chuckled, looking back to the Outsider's face. He should have a scar on his neck, but he knew better not to ask.] Perhaps it's to make up for all the curses I wished on you. Or that I just want to.
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That's the thing about being a god; he hears everything directed to him, whether it's polite or not.]
I'm not sure I would like it if you put up your own shrine. [Too needy. Just throw a rune into the ocean and scream, he'll show up.] This- [he waves a hand back and forth between them] -is just fine as is.
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He's not used to the idea of having a bed partner, so it takes him a moment to realize he should probably make some changes. He reaches behind a pillow to remove the gun from beneath it, laying it on one of the bedside table next to empty vials of sleep darts. One for precautions, the other when he couldn't manage to sleep on his own. There were quite a few.
What else... Oh, right. He'll actually move over to leave one side open.] Don't get desperate. Good to know.
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Very good, Corvo. Don't get desperate. [like Anton] I trust you have the sense to keep that in mind even without my reminders.
[And then he just... sits there. It takes him a moment to realize he's supposed to lie down before he shifts and does, stiffly, lying on his back with his hands folded on his chest. He's not even bothering with the sheets, look at this.]
Corvo. [He turns his head to look at him, hello.] I don't sleep.
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So he just... stares. Not directly at him, but the Mark on his hand. So much has changed. He wasn't making the best decisions.
What the Outsider just said was case and point.] Oh.
[That's all he can think to say, initially. Oh. Uh. Right. Shit.] ... Yet you've indulged me this far. Stay?
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He hums. What harm can one night do?] So be it.
[He could stand to be more romantic... but he turns onto his side and holds out an arm pointedly. Holding Corvo for like five minutes earlier was comfortable, so indulge him now while he lies awake here all night.] Come here.
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Oh, he shouldn't get used to this. He knows it can only hurt him later, he knows he'll miss it dearly if it's torn away from him. Yet he still moves under the Outsider's arm, his own going around him to make sure he was staying.] ...Thank you.
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But he's looking forward to it, almost. He wraps his arm around Corvo to hold him closer, answering him first with another hum.]
Don't thank me, Corvo. You know better. [...teasing, but.] Sleep.
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Who knew he'd be using a god as a pillow. Emily, probably, but she won't disturb her father in the morning.]
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There are plenty of things to think about—will he do this again, will he want to? He suspects Corvo wouldn't turn him out of bed, the way he's sleeping so soundly. So then, the logistics of this... Being involved with someone in any way but especially a staying-until-morning way certainly does remove a layer of detachment from the way he watches the wheels turn, but then, Corvo was already his favorite. He supposes rooting for someone spoiled any impartial distance he held fifteen years ago, and besides, the Void has no rules.
Corvo's hair is soft, he thinks in between all of these other things. Corvo's weight in his arms is warm, and that could very well be enough. The Outsider will be there in the morning, awake long before the rest of the palace begins its day with the earliest shift of guards and maids rising from bed, and since the Empress is likely to spend her morning wrapped up in someone much like this, he supposes there is still time before someone wants Corvo to join them for politics.
The Outsider still nudges his shoulder to wake him up. Rise and shine and pay attention to him.] It's morning, Corvo.
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This morning Corvo didn't want to get up, it seems. He was having pleasant dreams of the Hounds Pits Pub. He groaned, scrunching his nose and turning his head into the pillow.
Wait a moment.
The Outaider was still here. Corvo opens his eyes, staring blearily in mild disbelief.] You didn't leave.
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I made the choice. [did you want him to be Serious before breakfast, well here he is] Although I believe the phrase you're looking for is "good morning."
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[He's just going to shut his eyes and pretend the sun isn't rising yet.] I hope you haven't kept some unfortunate soul waiting.
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Yes, he's decided this was worth it. Corvo all but curls up in his lap and the Outsider's hand finds its way into his hair almost immediately, ruffling his bedhead lightly before he threads his fingers through. Thanks to Corvo, he's learned how to tousle hair for fun and profit, enjoy.]
There's always something. Perhaps they'll use my silence to their advantage and put a little more blood into it, next time. [Metaphor? Not metaphor? It's never clear.]
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[Why did they have to be so messy... ugh, maybe he should get up. He yawns, turning his head to look up at him.] You're making it very difficult to get up, you know. [By like, existing.]
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