[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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no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
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...
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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]