dumbshow | incredibly indulgent shipping post

[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.]

[He's not adorable at all. He's a menace. Jindosh keeps frowning at him as he approaches, but he isn't shouting at him to go put the robe back or shouting at his clockworks to do it for him. He's just... frowning.

Hmm.] Did you make a mess of my chambers? I assumed it went without saying that you aren't to help yourself to anything you can find in the mansion.

[The nerve! But he's here and doing it, helping himself, so Jindosh will adjust accordingly. When Paolo is within arm's reach he extends a hand to tug at one edge of the robe, straightening it and smoothing it flat with his palm.]

At least have the decency to put it on properly.

[It's Paolo's turn to frown, even if he isn't shouting. He looks genuinely offended, his lips pursing and his gaze shifting to Jindosh's stupid collar.]

I told you I'm not a dog. I put everything back. Might be a centimeter off than where it was, but that's your problem. [And... Oh, he's adjusting him. He doesn't need to do that. This is kind of embarrassing now, but he'll still glance back at him with a raise of brow. What is he even supposed to say to that?]

... It's soft. I'm sore. We don't get that shit back home, and I think I've earned a right to treat myself after how much of my blood you've spilled. [Speaking of blood, let him just wipe it off of one of his metal... pins? Decorations. There's a whole lot of touching and adjusting here, though.]

You probably like it, anyhow.

[He's a thug, so Jindosh assumes he must be careless and messy whenever it suits him, like perhaps in the personal chambers of someone who cuts him open as a hobby... But no matter. His hand is still on his robe, and stays there as he looks down at Paolo wiping blood off of him.

How helpful.]

Hmm. Presumptuous. I daresay I can understand why a man in your position would find it so necessary to resort to grandstanding, but it isn't a flattering image for you.

[How long is he going to keep touching this robe? Who knows.]

Something fitted would suit you well, but I know cheap suits are part of your criminal masterwork.

[It's not the shiniest, but it'll do. He's even considerate enough to use his thumb and not the robe. See? He's a nice thug.

A nice thug with, speaking of, a thing for thumbs apparently. Once he's satisfied with the state of Jindosh's clothes, he'll place his hand over the one resting on the robe. In contrast to the tight grips he held any other time, it was delicate once again.]

Aren't exactly any tailors that don't run screaming when I'm at their doorstep. People you probably know. [He... admires? That's the right word, surely, before he takes another drag from the makeshift pipe. This time he won't blow the smoke in Jindosh's direction.] I don't see you offering any better.

[A nice thug... sure. Jindosh has already accepted Paolo taking drags from his pipe hand as a fact of life. He could do more annoying things, and as long as no one is around to witness and - even worse, heaven forbid - ask questions, he may as well allow this.]

Do I look like a charitable man, Paolo? [They're standing close enough to each other that his voice has dropped to a level much quieter than his usual smug bluster. Something more casual, more... personal. While he tells Paolo about his asshole lifestyle, that's fine.

But maybe he notices the way he sounds and doesn't know what to do with it, because his actual, real fingers twitch against the inside of Paolo's wrist a moment later. Stop sucking his thumb, damn.]

I did offer you wine.

[Even if they didn't ask questions, Paolo would probably tell them. It's a good thing he doesn't stay long enough to chat with the guards and maids. And... well, they don't capture his attention like their boss does.

It's that attention that has him noticing every little change in him, even if he won't voice it. He takes another few seconds of smoking, just to be an ass, before he releases his hand with a low chuckle.]

That's charitable enough for me. [Was he too distracted by him to remember the offer? Probably. He lingers another moment, then chooses to completely undo the flattening of his robe by shrugging it further down his shoulder. Even worse? He's not staying close enough to fix it, he's going to get that wine.]

[He's going to have to go far, because there isn't any wine lying around in the lab. And Jindosh is obligated to follow him, after watching him go for a moment. He'll never let himself get ahead of schedule again if this babysitting his robe (and Paolo) is what he's doomed to.

Of course, none of that stops him from keeping his gaze locked on the curve of Paolo's shoulder, roving over the glimpse of ink and wondering what the full picture looks like. He hasn't bothered to ask, this whole time...

But. Wine.] You're taking liberties with my patience.

You tell me to loiter, you offer me wine, and now you're getting antsy when I make myself at home? I think you need this more than I do. [He was sure he saw a bottle somewhere...

He'd probably be better at looking if he didn't glance over his shoulder with that grin of his. He has no idea he's spent his time observing his ink, and unfortunately, he doesn't look long enough to even guess.] You've been working for like, ten hours straight. The wheels are gonna need oil if you want them to keep turning.

[Concern? For his state of mind? Hm... wine. There's a table somewhere, past the hall with the butterfly casing. You'd think he'd be more covered, stooping to the cupboard for glasses, but he has to pull it over before it really winds up just falling off him.]

[Jindosh's frown has taken up permanent residence on his face by now, and only deepens in response to this... character assessment. There's no way Paolo could know that "ahead of schedule" and "can't think well enough to go on" are nearly the same for how he uses the personal excuse, but he'd rather not be reminded either way.

Fortunately - or not - the dangerous and abrupt dip of his robe down Paolo's shoulder before he adjusts it himself succeeds in fixing his attention on - on, well. That. He's seen no shortage of Paolo's skin in his operating room these past few weeks, but this is a different context entirely.

The man is wearing his robe, for heaven's sake. He is thinking about it, damnable Paolo and the very precise lines of his small frame under the draped looseness of Jindosh's robe. Damn him.]

You're hardly the first to consider me uptight, [he says, coming up to Paolo's elbow to just take the glasses from him so he can look at something else.] My wheels turn excellently, with or without the oil.

[You know, on good days. He'll still have a drink.]

[Paolo knows there is a line somewhere, and it isn't something he wants to cross. There would be no pleasantness in his visits if all Jindosh were to do was cut him open and send him away. It wasn't like a smile came often, unless he was on the verge of discovering something that had Paolo too busy screaming to pay attention. It didn't mean he wouldn't try and strive for it out of the lab.

So he passes the glasses back to him without a follow up on how much oil he thinks he needs. It's only when he's upright, opening the bottle and facing Jindosh does he find voice again. It's more casual, more personal, to match what they had before.]

You know, I thought you had the biggest stick up your ass when I first got here. [Casual, personal, striving for a smile. He likes to think he is, at least, as he pours he first glass.] I didn't think there was much to learn. Knew my men stupid up to venture here probably freaked so bad they skipped down, or they were six feet under. All I cared about.

[When the first is full, nearly to the brim, he'll shift to the next.] So of course, I thought you were gonna just throw hissy fits when I kept coming. Never anything else. Now I'm standing here, highlight of my day wondering if you want this thing off me so bad because it's yours, or you wanna see what's mine.

[Okay, that might not exactly make him smile, but. Paolo will for him. It's fine.]

[Oh, Paolo's bizarre attempts at pleasant conversation. Great. Jindosh stands there holding the glasses, watching the progress of the pouring wine and not bothering to stop his gaze from wandering from the glasses to the bottle, to Paolo's hands. Up his arms to the sliver of skin he can still see after Paolo's half-assed robe adjustment. Paolo is saying something about his men and why Jindosh is annoying, and Jindosh is looking at the wine but really past it to the body barely managing to stay in his robe.

It's another damnable offense by Paolo, he thinks, that for all his mind used to race with numbers and figures and ideas and solutions—now it stumbles and hiccups over basics and, infuriatingly, catches on the line of Paolo's exposed skin and wastes far too many seconds trying to fill in the blanks. Jindosh is nothing if not a creative man.

And now he's holding these glasses, leaving neither hand free to reach out and fix that robe for him again. Whether fixing it means pulling it shut and putting an end to these thoughts of his or pulling it open and giving in, he hasn't decided. He raises an eyebrow again, giving focus to Paolo's words just in time to hear him wondering almost the same thing.]

Your persistence is almost admirable, [he says, raising the full glass to his lips to take a sip.] This quest to find an answer to your biggest question is intriguing, but you approach it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

[Which is a criticism or a statement of endearment or both, he hasn't decided about that either, but his next sip of wine smooths out the irritated lines in his brow at least somewhat. Hmm. Perhaps he won't declare that while Paolo is in his house, he's just as much Jindosh's as the robe he's wearing. That might end with wine being spilled all over. But he thinks it.]

You have more tattoos than I suspected. [Let's start there. He wants to see some subtlety, some finesse. Thrill him, tiny slumlord.]

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