[Favaro won't accept anything with royal in it, or anything that's a real job to be honest. This isn't a job, either - Kaisar doesn't actually pay him for it, the prick.]
Yeah, yeah. [He has to lean forward a little more himself to see what he's doing, as the lighting in this crappy inn is far from ideal. To that end, he doesn't really care if Kaisar gets a faceful of hair, he earned it.
He'll start with looking over the whole hand before he fixes up that joint, just in case there are more things Kaisar's untrained eye hasn't noticed.]
The beer's good here, that's all. I'd be out of here in a minute if it wasn't for that!
[He pays him in love. Like those free massage coupons kids give their mom on mother's day.
You know, that was a very interesting lie and everything. But. Kaisar has a face full of hair out of nowhere and it's not like he can lean back without jerking his hand away.
Not like his next action is really conductive to having his hand checked.
Reflexively, his hand shoots up and shoves Favaro's head down away from his face as he sputters (hair in his mouth ew). As brutish as ever with his strength there is only really one place he is heading and that's sprawling downwards onto their laps. Uh, sorry.]
[Right now he's paying him in trauma, actually. Favaro makes a noise of surprise as he's abruptly shoved down, goddamn it, and it's only the fact that his own hand is over Kaisar's false one right now that stops him busting his skull open on a big metal fist.
He whacks his nose pretty hard, still. First of all—] Kaisar-!
[Which is as far as he gets before the rickety chair gives out and one of the legs in the front just pops out completely, sending him sprawling even further. At the last minute he has the reflexes to move up a little and headbutt Kaisar squarely in the stomach.
It seemed like a great idea when he was halfway to the floor.]
Instantly Kaisar regrets his action. Not like he can say anything because in the span of seconds things are falling apart all around him. Just as instinctive as the action that started this mess, Kaisar reaches forward to catch Favaro's waist so he doesn't end up sprawled completely on the ground. Which happens to coincide with being fucking headbutted.
The unexpected attack knocks the breath out of him and he falls backwards. Thankfully the bed wasn't pushed up against the wall or he would be bashing his head in as well. But that still doesn't mean he lets off his grip on Favaro. Until his head can catch up to the mess that just happened Favaro will be stuck securely half pinned against Kaisar.]
[In the split second before his head actually collides with Kaisar, Favaro feels him catch him and swears. There's only one direction this is going- and then he's going further forward than he expected, landing with an oof!
Kaisar's lucky he didn't make it all the way onto the bed; getting kneed with his metal leg would actually hurt. Favaro grumbles something incoherent and annoyed into his shirt before turning his head to address Kaisar's elbow.]
[It takes Kaisar a second more and he finally catches his breath. It comes with the realization of how awkward they landed. Small mercies, at least his metal hand was flung to the side before it could somehow get lodged between them.
With a small groan he finally releases the vice grip.]
I'm sorry.
[Cause honestly, what else can he even say at this point? This is hardly the level of grace a knight should obtain.
He tries to prop himself up but refrains from doing it too quickly on the off chance it sends Favaro sliding away again. But it would be a lot easier to completely calm his breathing if there wasn't a heavy pile of hair laying on top of him.]
[Wait until every knight hears about this... or no one at all, because they're a black hole of embarrassment. Favaro tsks at him as he shoves himself upright using Kaisar as a brace (not sorry).]
It's like I said- brute. [But he's not really that mad, in the end. Except for when he looks down at what's left of the chair, ah, shit. Guess who isn't paying for this!]
Looks like you owe the inn a new chair, Sir Hammerhead.
[He'll definitely guilt Kaisar into replacing a single chair. Since he's out of chairs now, he moves to sit sideways on the bed so he can face Kaisar and drag his false hand back to his lap. It's extra lucky he hadn't actually brought out the oil yet, huh.]
[Was that really necessary? There's another gasp as Favaro literally pushes himself up on top of him. But endurance is really Kaisar's best feature so he's already recovered enough for the flowery speech to return. All it takes is him continuing to sit up right and a view of the abused chair.]
Ah- Of course. After our appointment I will rush to replace the item and offer the owner my profound apologies.
[And he totally means it. He looks stricken by what his foolishness has wrought. As well as a bit foolish with how he bends to allow Favaro his hand without being in hair risk territory.]
[What's said is Favaro is used to this. He still gives Kaisar a flat look (too knightly), but only shakes his head and looks back down at the hand to fiddle with it.
He put a lot of effort into making this thing as sturdy as possible, and it's still coming back to him once a week with squeaky hinges and other annoying little problems. What the hell, Kaisar?]
Appointment? [Wry; don't be weird.] Sure, whatever. He doesn't need the chair that badly.
[One must compensate after sprawling on a dirty inn's bed. For whatever reason. Kaisar just does it with purple prose.
Honestly, there wouldn't be have the squeaks if Kaisar maintained it to the level he should. But if he did he would have to admit he didn't need as many "appointments" to see Favaro. Jeanne's probably wouldn't a stickler over personal time but Kaisar is a huge baby, what else is new?]
For maintenance. [Just as emphatic. No questions. The same way he lets the chair thing drop with no more questions. The decision has already been made. The owner will probably have the new chair delivered before he even learns about what happened to this one.
Attention back to his hand he wonders allowed. Almost distressed.]
[Screwing up the things he builds is not the way to his heart, Kaisar. Not at all. Favaro has mostly guessed that half of these "appointments" are unnecessary, but he doesn't actually complain.
It's not like there's anyone else for him to make time for, every time, without fail. Nobody has to know about that, either.
So, anyway, give him a minute to really study the hand here. Wear and tear is expected, obviously, because it's a hand- but Kaisar doesn't know the meaning of "in moderation."]
Did you run it over with a packed cart, or something? How come the rest of your armor doesn't look this bad all the time, huh?
[Ah, he might be a little overly bothered by this... this hand is his child, okay.]
He was aware of Favaro's growing annoyance with each visit but he just couldn't break the habit now. The metal still gleamed, of course he polished it, but he just kept seeming to dent and ding it or throw a joint out of whack. He realized it every single time with a twinge of guilt but there was nothing he could really do about. As he told himself.
He traced a shallow dent on the palm, his hand brushing against Favaro's which was actually doing work. As his fingers drifted away he brushed the back of his hand as well. Of the entire mechanism he hasn't let a deep scratch or dent mar it yet.
[Favaro's torn; on the one hand (ha), he's stupidly attached to the things he makes. On the other, it's Kaisar, so he expected this and, fair enough, it isn't as badly off as it could be.
So when he says,] Forget it—don't worry about it. [He sure still sounds grumpy about it, but in a grudgingly tolerant way.
Kaisar keeps touching his hand, too, which isn't bad but is in his way. He bats at his fingers lightly even as Kaisar draws his hand away. Stay on your side until he's done.
There's only work to do after that, and it's really more tedious than difficult, but Favaro works without looking up - although he does throw in the occasional disapproving sound as he bends a joint. When he's through he gives it one more once-over, unconsciously tapping his fingers over his (ridiculous) engraved message as he looks up.
There is at least one oil smudge on his face, even though he didn't even go anywhere.]
One of these days, I'm gonna collect all the debt you owe me for this.
[For once, Kaisar seems to take the comment at face value. He will still worry about it but he just won't voice it right at the moment. It might seem just a tad bit too hypocritical. Haha...
So, he sits quietly and watches Favaro at work. Despite how long he has already had the hand it's still weird when he can't actually feel anything. There is the faint tug on his forearm as Favaro repositions the hand but there is no way to fulfill the itch of flexing his fingers as he watches them bend this way and that. Almost in response, Kaisar absently opens and closes his other hand.
Aaaand broken out of silent reprieve right into a good natured smile.]
Dept? [Between friends and a gift? Don't be a stickler!] Just name the price.
[The meaningless busy motion of opening and closing stops as Kaisar reaches up and swipes at the oil on Favaro's face. It probably didn't do a very good job of getting rid of it, instead just streaking half of it over his cheek.]
[The price is written on your hand, Kaisar. It's right there, check under the dopey pet name. Favaro raises an eyebrow and starts to grin, like he's about to name an outrageously high number, but Kaisar touching his face stops him short.
Yep, that felt like a smear more than getting it off his face... Years of finding oil smudges all over himself for days after using any have taught him this subtle difference in feeling quite well. There must be more on his hands, and the fact that he's still holding onto Kaisar's false one isn't going to help with that-]
Ahh, what's the point when you'll be back in a week? [A sigh, only mostly exaggerated.] Fine, fine- I've got a couple bar tabs you can pay off.
[And there's his shit-eating grin, now. Yes, this is perfect, this is the plan that will never intentionally contribute to their cyclical - thing. Whatever this is.
He shrugs one shoulder high to rub his cheek, and while doing that reaches up with his opposite hand to press his thumb against Kaisar's cheek. Yeah, his hands are thoroughly spotted with oil. Take that, O Knight.]
What kind of uppity food can a knight afford, huh? [food can't be uppity, favaro. anyway take him out to dinner.]
[Under the dopey message? Sorry, I don't think it's possible to get past the 'my dear' part to be honest.
Favaro is really going to name an actual price? In the form of bar tabs. Look at this trashy gold digger right here. At least he is finally smiling again though. Kaisar would gladly part with honorable knightly gold for that.]
Just a couple? [A shake of his head.
Wait. Did Favaro really just wipe oil onto his face. There was no request for matching smudges. Kaisar swipes at the spot and manages to make an even bigger mess out of it then what he did to Favaro's face. No... He can't wipe this on his nice clothes. He's scanning around for a cloth as he answers Favaro's rude question.]
Anything in town of course. A knight is a valuable patron unlike some customers. [Is that uppity enough for you? Thankfully Kaisar is actually playing along and evident in the dry tone of his reply. They could go right now if they were at all presentable.]
He's actually serious about the bar tabs, is the thing... He might be secretly rich as hell from that sweet bounty, but why would he refuse free money? Especially Kaisar's free money? It seems obvious where that money should go.
There's a perfect retort for this - "a couple couples" - interrupted by Kaisar smudging his own face even more, which just gets him to laugh. Sorry boo. He makes a half-assed effort to cover it with his arm, which is mercifully not covered in oil, but he sure is laughing at Kaisar's plight which is totally his fault.]
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Yeah, yeah. [He has to lean forward a little more himself to see what he's doing, as the lighting in this crappy inn is far from ideal. To that end, he doesn't really care if Kaisar gets a faceful of hair, he earned it.
He'll start with looking over the whole hand before he fixes up that joint, just in case there are more things Kaisar's untrained eye hasn't noticed.]
The beer's good here, that's all. I'd be out of here in a minute if it wasn't for that!
[#liar]
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You know, that was a very interesting lie and everything. But. Kaisar has a face full of hair out of nowhere and it's not like he can lean back without jerking his hand away.
Not like his next action is really conductive to having his hand checked.
Reflexively, his hand shoots up and shoves Favaro's head down away from his face as he sputters (hair in his mouth ew). As brutish as ever with his strength there is only really one place he is heading and that's sprawling downwards onto their laps. Uh, sorry.]
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He whacks his nose pretty hard, still. First of all—] Kaisar-!
[Which is as far as he gets before the rickety chair gives out and one of the legs in the front just pops out completely, sending him sprawling even further. At the last minute he has the reflexes to move up a little and headbutt Kaisar squarely in the stomach.
It seemed like a great idea when he was halfway to the floor.]
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Instantly Kaisar regrets his action. Not like he can say anything because in the span of seconds things are falling apart all around him. Just as instinctive as the action that started this mess, Kaisar reaches forward to catch Favaro's waist so he doesn't end up sprawled completely on the ground. Which happens to coincide with being fucking headbutted.
The unexpected attack knocks the breath out of him and he falls backwards. Thankfully the bed wasn't pushed up against the wall or he would be bashing his head in as well. But that still doesn't mean he lets off his grip on Favaro. Until his head can catch up to the mess that just happened Favaro will be stuck securely half pinned against Kaisar.]
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Kaisar's lucky he didn't make it all the way onto the bed; getting kneed with his metal leg would actually hurt. Favaro grumbles something incoherent and annoyed into his shirt before turning his head to address Kaisar's elbow.]
Let go of me, you idiot.
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With a small groan he finally releases the vice grip.]
I'm sorry.
[Cause honestly, what else can he even say at this point? This is hardly the level of grace a knight should obtain.
He tries to prop himself up but refrains from doing it too quickly on the off chance it sends Favaro sliding away again. But it would be a lot easier to completely calm his breathing if there wasn't a heavy pile of hair laying on top of him.]
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It's like I said- brute. [But he's not really that mad, in the end. Except for when he looks down at what's left of the chair, ah, shit. Guess who isn't paying for this!]
Looks like you owe the inn a new chair, Sir Hammerhead.
[He'll definitely guilt Kaisar into replacing a single chair. Since he's out of chairs now, he moves to sit sideways on the bed so he can face Kaisar and drag his false hand back to his lap. It's extra lucky he hadn't actually brought out the oil yet, huh.]
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Ah- Of course. After our appointment I will rush to replace the item and offer the owner my profound apologies.
[And he totally means it. He looks stricken by what his foolishness has wrought. As well as a bit foolish with how he bends to allow Favaro his hand without being in hair risk territory.]
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He put a lot of effort into making this thing as sturdy as possible, and it's still coming back to him once a week with squeaky hinges and other annoying little problems. What the hell, Kaisar?]
Appointment? [Wry; don't be weird.] Sure, whatever. He doesn't need the chair that badly.
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Honestly, there wouldn't be have the squeaks if Kaisar maintained it to the level he should. But if he did he would have to admit he didn't need as many "appointments" to see Favaro. Jeanne's probably wouldn't a stickler over personal time but Kaisar is a huge baby, what else is new?]
For maintenance. [Just as emphatic. No questions. The same way he lets the chair thing drop with no more questions. The decision has already been made. The owner will probably have the new chair delivered before he even learns about what happened to this one.
Attention back to his hand he wonders allowed. Almost distressed.]
I didn't damage it again, did I?
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It's not like there's anyone else for him to make time for, every time, without fail. Nobody has to know about that, either.
So, anyway, give him a minute to really study the hand here. Wear and tear is expected, obviously, because it's a hand- but Kaisar doesn't know the meaning of "in moderation."]
Did you run it over with a packed cart, or something? How come the rest of your armor doesn't look this bad all the time, huh?
[Ah, he might be a little overly bothered by this... this hand is his child, okay.]
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He was aware of Favaro's growing annoyance with each visit but he just couldn't break the habit now. The metal still gleamed, of course he polished it, but he just kept seeming to dent and ding it or throw a joint out of whack. He realized it every single time with a twinge of guilt but there was nothing he could really do about. As he told himself.
He traced a shallow dent on the palm, his hand brushing against Favaro's which was actually doing work. As his fingers drifted away he brushed the back of his hand as well. Of the entire mechanism he hasn't let a deep scratch or dent mar it yet.
For the second time already:]
I'm sorry. I have no excuse...
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[Favaro's torn; on the one hand (ha), he's stupidly attached to the things he makes. On the other, it's Kaisar, so he expected this and, fair enough, it isn't as badly off as it could be.
So when he says,] Forget it—don't worry about it. [He sure still sounds grumpy about it, but in a grudgingly tolerant way.
Kaisar keeps touching his hand, too, which isn't bad but is in his way. He bats at his fingers lightly even as Kaisar draws his hand away. Stay on your side until he's done.
There's only work to do after that, and it's really more tedious than difficult, but Favaro works without looking up - although he does throw in the occasional disapproving sound as he bends a joint. When he's through he gives it one more once-over, unconsciously tapping his fingers over his (ridiculous) engraved message as he looks up.
There is at least one oil smudge on his face, even though he didn't even go anywhere.]
One of these days, I'm gonna collect all the debt you owe me for this.
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So, he sits quietly and watches Favaro at work. Despite how long he has already had the hand it's still weird when he can't actually feel anything. There is the faint tug on his forearm as Favaro repositions the hand but there is no way to fulfill the itch of flexing his fingers as he watches them bend this way and that. Almost in response, Kaisar absently opens and closes his other hand.
Aaaand broken out of silent reprieve right into a good natured smile.]
Dept? [Between friends and a gift? Don't be a stickler!] Just name the price.
[The meaningless busy motion of opening and closing stops as Kaisar reaches up and swipes at the oil on Favaro's face. It probably didn't do a very good job of getting rid of it, instead just streaking half of it over his cheek.]
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Yep, that felt like a smear more than getting it off his face... Years of finding oil smudges all over himself for days after using any have taught him this subtle difference in feeling quite well. There must be more on his hands, and the fact that he's still holding onto Kaisar's false one isn't going to help with that-]
Ahh, what's the point when you'll be back in a week? [A sigh, only mostly exaggerated.] Fine, fine- I've got a couple bar tabs you can pay off.
[And there's his shit-eating grin, now. Yes, this is perfect, this is the plan that will never intentionally contribute to their cyclical - thing. Whatever this is.
He shrugs one shoulder high to rub his cheek, and while doing that reaches up with his opposite hand to press his thumb against Kaisar's cheek. Yeah, his hands are thoroughly spotted with oil. Take that, O Knight.]
What kind of uppity food can a knight afford, huh? [food can't be uppity, favaro. anyway take him out to dinner.]
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Favaro is really going to name an actual price? In the form of bar tabs. Look at this trashy gold digger right here. At least he is finally smiling again though. Kaisar would gladly part with honorable knightly gold for that.]
Just a couple? [A shake of his head.
Wait. Did Favaro really just wipe oil onto his face. There was no request for matching smudges. Kaisar swipes at the spot and manages to make an even bigger mess out of it then what he did to Favaro's face. No... He can't wipe this on his nice clothes. He's scanning around for a cloth as he answers Favaro's rude question.]
Anything in town of course. A knight is a valuable patron unlike some customers. [Is that uppity enough for you? Thankfully Kaisar is actually playing along and evident in the dry tone of his reply. They could go right now if they were at all presentable.]
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He's actually serious about the bar tabs, is the thing... He might be secretly rich as hell from that sweet bounty, but why would he refuse free money? Especially Kaisar's free money? It seems obvious where that money should go.
There's a perfect retort for this - "a couple couples" - interrupted by Kaisar smudging his own face even more, which just gets him to laugh. Sorry boo. He makes a half-assed effort to cover it with his arm, which is mercifully not covered in oil, but he sure is laughing at Kaisar's plight which is totally his fault.]
A knight, maybe, but not a dark knight!
[HE'S SO FUNNY]