dumbshow | incredibly indulgent shipping post

By the time I am done, I will have spoiled your evening. I would say your night, but I don't think you would be dissatisfied if I spent it here.

[And to just be extra infuriating, he'll follow those words with a wink. While Paolo was the dot under a question mark, he sought an exclamation. He knew his words sparked fire, and he wouldn't stop his approach until Jindosh burned.

So he'll follow them up with more, reaching to take up the bottle, not a glass, rather than wait for it to be given.] I am not interested in what other people have tried and failed to do. I think we can both agree I've surpassed them on... many, many levels. For instance, [as he pulls the cork from it effortlessly,] none have gotten your brows to knit like that so much times, have they?

[Ignore him absolutely intending to just drink from it, who needs glasses.]

[Paolo sparks something, that's certainly true. Embers in a dying hearth—not an image Jindosh is particularly fond of himself, but it's there. The punchline is that Jindosh has been propositioned before. He's rich, he's famous and eccentric - bedding him would be an accomplishment to the socially uninspired. A conversation piece.

It has never worked before; he is busy, far too busy, and even standing here listening to Paolo make these overtures at him is making his fingers twitch restlessly for all the work he isn't doing.

Still, when Paolo reaches for the bottle and their hands touch for that briefest of seconds, Jindosh is faintly surprised there isn't a shock passed between them. Perhaps he should stop thinking of Paolo as kindling until he knows exactly what the man is trying to set ablaze.]

I could have you removed from the premises without lifting a finger, [he says idly, a helpful reminder that his house can kill people. And he is about to go on before his brow does knit just like that, again, as he reaches for the bottle to stop Paolo being some kind of heathen slumlord.

Like, he is one, but he could pretend to have class in Jindosh's presence.] I can't stand it when my honored guests start being petty. And you don't yet have a single drop of alcohol in you!

[so quit it,]

[Paolo holds his tongue at his claim, knowing well enough that he could last long enough that Jindosh would have to lift a finger. Probably. He hasn't died once today, purposely careful of that fact whenever he plans on setting foot on the property.]

The Crooked Hand is a tavern, my fiery friend. If you think that this is my first drink of the day, you have not had the experience of handling someone so... high maintenance. [Yeah, he said it, fight him.

But the heathen slumlord will relent, if with something akin to a pout. He relinquishes the bottle, waving his hand once it's free and choosing to pass with a roll of his eyes. He's already walking as if he knows the way, though his visits have supposedly been few.] Perhaps you will be less strung up if we are in the laboratory you should have been working in. I'm curious to see what you've replaced Howler bodies with. Overseers? Your own guardsmen?

[High maintenance... That's fair, it should take extra effort to handle him, otherwise what is he doing wrong? If Paolo's vice of choice is the bottle, that's up to him, but it won't be chugging straight from the bottle if he's not in his own filthy tavern.

Jindosh expresses all of this with a raised eyebrow, looking (down) at Paolo like he isn't being incredibly interesting today, and that's rather disappointing.

Ah, but Jindosh does love talking about his work.]

Thieves, who came into my home thinking they would leave with some kind of prize. The clockwork soldiers handled the first, but the second I kept to deal with myself. He won't covet my collections anymore.

[First of all because he's definitely dead, second of all because Jindosh may have tied a bag over his head and cut off his hands. He doesn't want to carry this wine around anymore but he might need it to bargain with, so he shifts the glasses and bottle all into one hand to leave the other free for pointed gesturing.

They are not going to the laboratory, notably. Jindosh will take special care to lead Paolo somewhere else entirely, a useless room with spare parts and maybe a table and most of a clockwork soldier crucified in its half-built state against the wall. It's like a miniature lab?]

Oh yeah? I bet you tickled him real good. Used one of your machines so you keep your hands clean. [Jindosh might be unimpressed with him, but it goes both ways after that news. He's not even sparing a second glance until they reach his mini... workshop. And even then, it's towards the alcohol.] You know, the more you get these things to do the dirty work, the less you get to know they really suffered for it.

[Oh, hey, he'll even gesture towards the unfinished clockwork to make his point. He'd flinched the first few times around, knowing the feeling of being speared on their arms. Now? He'll pat the head, leaving it as crooked as his tie before he placed the hand on the table.] You always got people coming in, but you never leave an example of what it's like to walk out after what you've done to them. Have 'em stumbling into the streets with what you did and you'll find you got a lot less unwanted guests at your doorstep.

Unless, well, you don't do it because you get lonely or some shit.

[Nobody asked Paolo for his opinion. Jindosh doesn't bother to bristle with offense until Paolo purposely leaves his unfinished clockwork looking crooked and sloppy, at which point he marches over to fix the position of the head and frown at Paolo again.] These things are worth more than twenty of your miserable little lives.

[Stop... breaking his toys?? He's easily distracted by this, fussing with the clockwork for an extended moment before he sighs shortly, like talking to Paolo is a headache that isn't worth it. It's one of those things; Jindosh is still undecided as to which one it is more often. Since he's recently given up on setting expensive clockworks on Paolo, it logically follows that he is walking him around the mansion for his conversation.

A glutton for punishment? Hardly. A glutton for some kind of answer to his burning curiosity—that's better.]

If people stopped coming, it would be awfully hard to find test subjects for the clockworks that don't necessitate my building them myself. [Reminder: even the shittiest clockwork costs a fortune.] I am interested in efficiency, as you know very well from your encounter with them. A soldier that requires electric power to run must kill quickly and move on—they aren't programmed to engage in pretty duels for the sake of pride, or "honor."

[So he doesn't really need to send a message about suffering, or see it at work himself—he's not a torture artist, he's a researcher. Please, Paolo.]

The Jindosh mansion, where men and women of all ages and possessing all kinds of skills come in, and no one comes out. [There's a thin smile on his face, almost as if this is a real tagline for his crazy house and he's really fond of it.] You, my slippery friend, are the one spoiling the image.

[Paolo seems prepared for this to set him off with some sort of prideful speech, leaning back against the table and observing with a smug smirk. With Jindosh's hands occupying the clockwork head, he'll take up the bottle again, but this time to start pouring its contents. He was certain both of them would need full glasses if they were to get through his visit without someone getting stabbed.]

No offense to you, Kirin, [full offense,] but... your image wasn't fully restored by the time I got here.

[Is he talking about the Empress totally demolishing his image all those months ago? A little. He's learned the hard way that this is one of the easiest ways to turn the man off from any further conversation, so he's quick to follow up with an offer of wine.] They have trouble with the uh... supernatural, right? I'll admit, our fights are skill and pure luck. Luck your machines don't got.

Humans get it. Like how you're a lucky human with I'm here today. Because maybe you wanna consider my offer of letting you run more controlled tests on marked rats.

[He says no offense, but there's definite offense. Jindosh stiffens almost imperceptibly at the mention of his poorly-restored image, hand stilling on the clockwork's head before he turns back to Paolo. Paolo is right; he's seconds away from turning the man out of his home before the wine is in front of him and he takes a glass with a hum.]

If you can make it worth my while, Paolo, then do it. You are aware that the population of men who have your unique abilities is... devastatingly small. I'm not convinced the simple novelty is worth my time and resources.

[He lies, lyingly.]

Well, I don't think you're going to get the Outsider's puppet at your doorstep anytime soon. And frankly, I don't think you want that. [The thing about him lyingly lying is that Paolo knows one when he sees one. He might stretch the truth regarding what limits he can take, but unless you're the Abbey, you're definitely interested in seeing how a man can turn to rats.

Take a fucking sip, babe.] I'm not here to get into the politics of that. If you think the opportunity at training your soldiers to track the untrackable is too simple of a novelty...

[Let him just turn the clockwork head back like it's looking at Jindosh, he's cute.] Then by all means. Run me outta here.

[Please keep all actual Outsider puppets away from him, that shit is a little bit weirder than he can handle so soon after the Empress. And Delilah's episode, which he still doesn't understand every facet of. It's too bad her people are scattered and worthless to him now, again... It isn't worth pursuing.

But Paolo, drenched in black magic without a string tying him to the Outsider of his own—that is the novelty Jindosh is interested in. He can lyingly lie as much as he wants and they'll both know he's doing it and that's probably fine. He definitely wants to see how a man can turn into rats.]

You are something of a businessman, [he says like being a heathen slumlord doesn't really count as a business, because, well.] So tell me, what are you expecting to squeeze out of me besides my wine? I'd like to know what the Howlers want from me that is so valuable their leader will let me play at how to kill him perfectly.

[Jindosh: forgets that Paolo invited himself to spend the night ten minutes ago]

Edited 2017-01-01 20:59 (UTC)

Howlers don't a rat's ass for what I do here. [So, his ass,] Pushing, pulling, squeezing... I would do it all, but you're thinking too much about me touching you, grand inventor.

[Since he forgot, he'll just have to put more out there. But now he'll take a drink before he actually answers, though, since it takes choosing his words carefully. He can't have him getting the wrong idea here, that he's getting the upperhand. Even though with all that Paolo's risking... Well, he might.]

It's mutual benefit. [He finally says, shifting his weight and waving a hand dismissively. Like it wasn't big deal, though he was on edge to hear his answer.] You learn where to strike, and I learn where to dodge. I know what to look for if your things go batshit in my territory, and your gifted guests end up like nothing more than petty thieves.

[He just has to add,] And you get the pleasure of my company.

[Oh, now he remembers. Jindosh hasn't decided yet if Paolo is being serious, bringing up the different ways he'd touch him. He supposes it's just as likely that he is as isn't, although the price seems steep. Even the rest of Paolo's offer seems skewed heavily in Jindosh's favor—people break into his home much more frequently than he sends his clockworks out among the rabble.

He takes a sip from his glass, considering. Paolo knows what he wants, that much is clear. And while the element of a challenge is pulled harshly away from him if Paolo simply offers himself up to be laid on a table in the operating room, it would be faster.]

Hmm. You might just be on your way to impressing me. Fine, then—but you will do as I ask and make no complaints. If you choose not to come when I call, then you will no longer be a necessary component of the testing process. [So, he'll go for murder again. These are great terms, please sign on the line.

He almost turns away to fuss over his clockwork again, but something stops him standing there, considering Paolo. Swirling his wine gently in his glass, he reaches up with his other hand to lift Paolo's chin with his ceramic finger. Hmm. Hey.] And you flatter yourself to presume I spend so much time thinking about your hands on me.

[This is only working for him because he's taller, rest assured.]

[But it sure is working for him. Paolo stills, it being his turn for his brows to knit. Was he going to punch him, ruin the entire deal they just made and probably get skewered? Or say something suggestive, keep insisting he stay the night?

Nah, he'll reach up and delicately take Jindosh's wrist in hand. His voice is a little softer this time around, but that could either make it more or less intimidating.] I might howl, but I'm not a dog. Being a pack leader comes with responsibilities. If I'm late when you call, you'll have plenty other things to do.

Unless you plan on having all eyes and ears on me again, you can deal with that. [He's had enough eyes on him to see that isn't just fingers, and he knows he can take a drag from his finger. There's no point in wasting he opportunity.]

[Why doesn't Paolo just listen to him? Jindosh wonders, not for the first time. He has no interest in being bound to Paolo's whenever-he-feels-like-showing-up schedule! That schedule is the one that barely got them here, so if any progress is going to be made, then someone with more sense than the leader of the Howlers should be in charge.

Himself. He should be in charge. That's the whole point. A frown creases his brow at the attitude. The fact that he doesn't haul off and smash Paolo across the face with his proshetic piece is a credit to his very strong desire to cut the man open, and nothing else.

Nothing else. Really.] Is that what you want, Paolo? My undivided attention? Perhaps you should wait until I've had a touch more wine, and then when I'm suddenly urged to loosen my collar and be close to you— [Paolo taking a drag on his hand gives Jindosh more than enough opportunity to take hold of his jaw this time, ceramic thumb pressing down on his lower lip. Jindosh shifts to lean closer, making... a point?] Well, who knows. Maybe then you would howl for me, and stop intruding on my work.

[But that's clearly not going to happen, so just as quickly he loosens his grip on Paolo and straightens back up. Hmph!] I would be careful not to overestimate how much time I'm willing to spend on you.

[Paolo looked pretty blissful up until he feels the pressure on his jaw, and... well, he still doesn't look too unhappy about it. His eyes widened significantly, but the scowl that usually follows when someone's handling him never comes.

He doesn't chase after his hold, though, leaning back and running his hand where Jindosh's had been. To remember what it felt like, or just in thought? Even he didn't really know.] If you want to spend any at all... it'll have to be in the evening. As much as I'd love to have you cut me open over breakfast, we have a routine.

[That routine consisted of all less threatening things, like checking on that woodcarver and cleaning Stilton's mansion. Having lunch with Mindy. But he won't let him know that, even if he's looking at Jindosh like he has more to say.] I'll always come before sundown. For every minute I'm late, the longer you can keep me alive during whatever shit you wanna pull.

[God, he needs to drink before he can seal that deal. Who knew what he could do.] We have a deal?

[That worked better than he'd thought it would. Jindosh doesn't let his surprise at Paolo's apparently compliance show in his face - maybe the corner of his mouth twitches, but that could just as easily be irritation at these ongoing negotiations. Surely.

But he watches Paolo react to him and something about it sticks in his mind like a fishhook, its own puzzle for Jindosh to figure out. He hums over his next sip of wine, as if Paolo's instant consent to his fussy demands requires real thought.]

I think we're going to have an invigorating time getting to know each other. At the very least, I will have a very stimulating time getting to know you.

[Is he saying it like this on purpose? The answer to that must be the same answer to whether or not he looks Paolo up and down on so overtly purpose, whatever that is. Paolo can make up his own mind.]

Evenings it is, then. [He holds up his glass a little.] Cheers.

[Paolo's so sure of what that answer is, and it might be obvious in the way he's staring at him over his glass. He wasn't even drinking it, standing there like an idiot trying to gather his thoughts. How was he supposed to when he's saying things like that? He even wasn't done thinking about he'd touched his face.]

Ah, yes. [He blinks, shaking his head and leaning to clink their glasses together with a faint smirk.] To uh, stimulation. Cheers.

[He downs the whole thing in one go. Honestly? He should have just listened to the Duke.]

[To stimulation, indeed. The rest of the evening proceeds without incident, mercifully—Jindosh does have other things he needs to get back to, so after enough wine he insists Paolo just go, and remember their deal well. He needs time to think of what he wants to do first, as well... The possibilities are endless; he's never had a body in his operating room who could come back from an untimely death and tell him how it felt.

He's almost giddy at the prospect. At the options. Paolo's magic and how it works is the driving force of his curiosity, yes, but there are other things he's never managed to achieve because people keep dying on him, as well. Nothing could go wrong.

Or, just a few visits in, plenty of things could. Literally, the part where Paolo turns into rats, but even before that; he'll learn quickly that Jindosh isn't in the business of baby steps. These visits of his are going to start dialed up to eleven, and the only words Jindosh will offer Paolo in between commenting aloud to himself during whatever he chooses to do will be "stop complaining."

Jindosh thinks nothing of it but intellectual curiosity, at first. Paolo shows up and Jindosh tells him where to sit or lie down without any actual explanation of what he's trying to deduce from him this time, and sends him on his way when he's through. There are marginally fewer clockworks than expected, but he needs to establish some kind of base for study first... it all makes perfect sense if you know what he's doing, which he isn't sharing.

But then sending Paolo on his way turns into at least giving him a glass of water first, then wine, then pausing to speak to him about something besides cutting him open, and Jindosh looks up from his notes one evening with a terrible realization: he's enjoying this. Not the natural philosophy, obviously he enjoys that, but these brief moments afterward before Paolo leaves. Snippets of conversation. A glass of wine.

Maddening. He's halfway through a word in his notes and stopped with his pen to the paper to watch Paolo straighten himself out after the latest atrocity Jindosh has wheedled him into having committed to his flesh. He shouldn't bother with him, when there are still things about his work he needs to consider... but this hasn't been his best of days anyway, and if Paolo is already here—]

Are you sore? [great fucking start, is he sore, amazing]

[Paolo would be lying if he said he expected everything since day one. He assumed he'd be put up against a few clockworks, break a few things, learn his pain threshold and be able to hold casual conversation with Jindosh before he went on his way.

Paolo threw up the first few times he'd gone through their sessions. Even if Jindosh had been thoughtful enough to offer him anything in the beginning, there was no way he was taking it. He was uncharacteristically silent when returning from the rat swarm, and he definitely did not want to be touched again.

Yes, he still insisted he could handle it. Yes, he had the restraint not to kick and scream and ruin the process. That didn't make the process any less slow. As soon as he was out of any sort of restraints, he'd get as far as he could with mutterings he'd probably come back the next evening.

But the wine helped. The conversation picked up. He started asking questions about what was being done to him, as he intended to from the start. He'd even started joking about "those Abbey pricks" not being smart enough to find where it'd hurt the most so far.

His hands were only shaking a little this time, trying to take up his coat.] Yeah.

[He should probably say more than that, he thinks. One of them has to be a man of more words, and he'd caught moments where Jindosh struggled to find them. He sighs, running a hand down his face and casting a weary glance back at him.] Takes awhile for my insides to get their shit together. Almost like they normally wouldn't handle being cut open or something.

[Sympathy is not Jindosh's strong suit. He's never felt an ounce of it in his life, and his experience with empathy extends as far as the singular time he forced himself to appeal to Anton Sokolov with some kind of emotion, until that didn't work and he threw him in his electric chair instead.

So this is different for him; asking Paolo how he's feeling, listening to his response. At first he doesn't do anything but keep looking at him, fingers tightening around the pen in his hand to commit that to memory rather than immediately scribble it down. Paolo's insides feeling funny isn't much use to his bizarre research, here.]

You are an abomination, [he says, and no one has ever called someone else an abomination with such a casual-yet-fascinated attitude before. It might be a compliment. He's still interested, anyway.] That aside, I am ahead of schedule, so you are welcome to loiter if you so desire.

["you can stay if it was too rough," but like, not like that]

Ha, you aren't wrong there. [And no one has ever laughed at being insulted so casually, especially not by the smartest man in Karnaca. He'd say all the Isles if he were feeling particularly nice, but that Paolo usually left the building as soon as he set foot in the lab.

A fraction of it'll probably come back now, with his offer. He furrows his brows, lowering his coat instead of keeping up his attempt to pull on a sleeve. He's ahead of schedule, he says. He didn't use that time to keep going. He should probably reevaluate why he feels so touched by something as simple as that.

He shifts uneasily, glancing around the room like if he turned a corner a clockwork's blade would be there. Never answering how many times he can die in one evening left room to be overly-cautious.] There... there a catch to that? I don't even know what you do to relax in a place like this.

[Well, the smartest man in the Isles continues to just look at Paolo evenly, some kind of unreadable consideration in his eyes. For once he isn't looking at Paolo like he's something to take apart, but there's something else in his gaze to replace it; a different kind of bright something, brittle and flickering, but there. Jindosh wouldn't be able to describe it if asked.

He raises an eyebrow, finally tearing his gaze from Paolo when the man looks around the room like he's still being studied. That's a fair assessment, but Jindosh is not a subtle man, and Paolo would know with absolute certainty if he weren't... done for the day, as it were. But no matter; having the leader of the Howlers feeling more cooperative than usual out of caution can't be a bad thing.]

I don't relax. [That might have been obvious. He relaxes by continuing to work himself to the bone, it's great. Like now, as he turns his attention back down to his notes and jots down something that might be important.] But there is plenty of wine, and... a chair, somewhere...

[Uh, a chair that isn't electric. There's his desk chair, but does he want Paolo behind his desk upstairs? Not really... Hm.]

... You can't pay me to get in that thing. [Paolo knew that chair had too many wires in it to be safe, let alone comfortable. He will use it to lay his coat over the side of it, but that is the extent of any consideration towards it.

He knows that's absolutely what fried his brain, but he won't ruin the evening with that conversation.] Well, if I'm not going to be sitting comfortably, I am going to be dressing down. Don't get too scandalized.

[Hey, he almost mustered up a smile that time. Progress. There's no suggestive wink or comment about undressing around him, though. Not this time. He's too tired to do much beyond walk out of the room with his head held high.

He's gone so long one could assume he just up and left. Five minutes turn to ten, ten to twenty, but there's weight back on the floors back to the laboratory before it could reach half an hour. Paolo is rubbing lotion up his arms when he reemerges, probably one of the nicest robes Jindosh has loosely wrapped around him. Ink peeks through on his shoulders, but his fingers are barely visible when he drops them to his sides. He didn't seem to mind. He's fixing his hair, seeing as he... actually ran a comb through it?

He's not trying to impress anyone, he swears.]

[Jindosh doesn't look at the chair, even as he hears Paolo put his coat down on it. He doesn't look at that chair much anymore, except for when he's feeling especially bitter.

So when Paolo just walks out, Jindosh only hums over his notes and scratches something out to rewrite it again. It's not long before he's caught up in writing his observations and only wonders where Paolo actually went when maybe fifteen minutes have passed. There hasn't been any outcry from the guards or distant mechanical clunking of the clockworks trying to slice and dice Paolo again, so... Hmm. Perhaps he did leave.

—Or perhaps he snuck his way into Jindosh's personal chambers and stole his things, which is only mildly offensive. If Paolo had broken into the lab without his presence it would be different, but taking a robe from his bathroom is... kind of odd, all things considered. Jindosh blinks at his reappearance, eventually putting his pen down and standing there with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised when he realizes what Paolo is wearing.]

What do you think you're doing? [His lotion, too?? Not that there isn't anything about Paolo wearing his robe that tugs at his curiosity, a tiny what if taking form where it had once been just an idea, but... that's his stuff.]

[Paolo slows to a stop, slowly looking up from the fabric with a hand at his chest. He's gradually regaining his charisma, and with it comes his feign of confusion and hurt. He probably thinks it's adorable.] What, me? I'm loitering. Like you said.

[Try as he may to keep it up, the corner of his lips are curving up into a smirk. He shouldn't have any room to be this smug anymore, and yet he's still approaching like he wasn't entirely vulnerable like this. Like he hadn't left his sword with the rest of his things.] You never established anything I couldn't do, right? So I washed up. Might not be as clean as you, but... I like to think I look half as good.

[Just ignore the fact it's entirely too big on him. He's had to tie two knots to keep it together.]

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