amicustenebris | Duplicity

[ Gold doesn't break off that contact, though his other hand is largely doing the subtle work of cleaning himself up, closing what needs to be closed, letting the air cool and dry the very slight sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. Their eyes meet, and it occurs to him then that perhaps is when at least one of them should have capacity enough to determine whether there is more to be done or if this is how they conclude.

The latter really isn't his style. ]

What can I get for you? [ A drink? A towel? ]

[ Carver leans into the touch. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just takes the contact for what it is. Something centering, and calm. ]

Water.

[ He ought to get his clothes back on, anyway. ]

Take a moment to relax, then. Please.

[ He takes his cane in hand again and stands, clothing already straightened when he opens one of the double doors and steps out. When he returns he sets a full glass on the nearest bedside table. He doesn't immediately approach again, beyond that, without clear body language that it's welcome. ]

[ Silently, Carver gets himself situated. He gets his clothes righted, replaces his knives. He's buckling his hood back on when Gold returns. Layers are good, layers are as close to proper armor as he gets these days.

He stands without a word and takes the glass from the bedside table. Drinks slowly. It feels good on his throat. ]

Thanks. For letting me cook.

Likewise.

[ He understands what a strange thing it is to complain about room service, but he is a simple man come from simple roots. ]

Empty time without good work to fill it is Hell. Having hands and nothing to make with them is the wrong way to be.

[ And the shock of appearing here and all that is placed on you at once? ]

This place is doing something deliberate, I think. When it brings someone here, Up or Down. For you, they are telling you that you can't be anything approaching a person unless you give over to someone else to make you that way. But up here -- they way they force idleness can have the same effect. It leaves them a passel of traumatized people with empty hands that will cling to the luxury because everything else seems far more difficult. It gives them free reign to decide for you, in your trauma, what should be in your hands instead.

I don't like that. I don't want it.

[ Hence why everything had to be made from scratch. Hence why everything that is intact now, was broken and then remade. ]

[ Carver lowers the glass slowly. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then: ]

I killed a woman before I got pulled in here. I killed a lot of people, but her -

[ His mouth twitches. Not a smile. ]

Her name was Josephine, I think. Just a kid, really. And I killed her because she was in front of me, because her people were in the way, because they had food and we needed it.

[ There's not much of anything in his voice then. He sets the glass back down. ]

This place isn't real. It's just a trick, a game someone's playing. I know what I am, Gold. I'm the same thing I've always been.

...Do not take this for criticism. If we're going to compare body counts, you have already lost simply because I have had far more time to make questionable decisions. I don't know your circumstances intimately, but I am no stranger to people who make otherwise terrible decisions out of desperation, and survival. Look where we are. So I would be the wrong person to think I made the wrong choice in accepting your offer to come here.

[ He whets his lips. ]

But I want you to think on this, and answer me: What made you decide to tell me that?

[ He just shrugs. It is what it is. He's got no remorse because he's got no room for it. The choice was simple. His people, or strangers, and his people will win every time. Not because of God or Pope, but because Carver and Shaw made choices.

Their family above all others. Everyone else can burn to ash. ]

I don't know.

[ Truth. Carver meets his gaze head on. ]

Got nobody else to tell.

[ Mood, Carver. That is a mood. ]

...I think that, whatever circumstances caused the two of us to meet, we are in agreement on a number of important things. So perhaps I am not in any hurry to rush you out the door just yet.

[ One of these days, they'll be enemies. It's as inevitable as gravity. One of these days, Gold will go for him or Carver will take a blade to Gold's throat and hang his corpse from a tree. Just how it swings.

These things happen. But not just yet.

He tips his head back. ]

Idle hands, Gold.

[ Can't have that. ]

What am I gonna do if I stay?

My first thought was time to rest, perhaps use a bath that's not communal.

[ You're jumping the gun a bit, is what he's saying. But since you brought it up. ]

...As for anything else, or any future...whatever. You are under no obligation to do anything you do not wish to do. [ Myself included. ] Not from me.

[ Carver gives him a long, silent look. He almost asks if Gold wants to go for round two, whatever, when in Rome and all that shit. Not like it'd be a hardship. It's just what people do around here, and these moments are easier when they're transactional.

He doesn't, though. Just tips his head back and waits for a catch that doesn't come. ]

Okay. Where's your shower?

[ He nods to the door on the wall directly to the left of the double doors. ]

Master bath is through there. There is also another attached to the second room, not yet used, but properly outfitted.

[ He doesn't think of additional rounds -- because again, he does not consider his own interest and assumes there is none on the other side. ]

All at your disposal.

[ The novelty of having running water - and hot water, at that - hasn't yet worn off. Carver distrusts it instinctively, all this luxury offered out like a balm. It's a distraction and nothing more, a trick this place has been playing on unfortunate suckers for years now. He vows now - as he has before - that it will never catch him.

But he nods, because it doesn't get him anything to refuse. ]

I'm going to use it.

[ He gives Gold a look. ]

You wanna go again after, then we can do that.

[ If not, then he'll just use the hot water. And whatever fancy ass soap this place comes with. ]

I'm --

[ A blush. That's not a 'no' but he changes the subject just the same. ]

...I'll just be straightening up in the kitchen. Please take your time.

[ Hmm. Hard to miss that blush. Carver doesn't comment on it, just takes it in, the way that Gold - so controlled in other ways - reacts whenever Carver hits on him. Like he isn't expecting it, even after everything they've done.

Thoughts for later. Carver sucks on his teeth, then goes to shower.

It is what it is. ]

[ True to his word, when next Carver emerges, the bedroom is a little more tidy, and out beyond that, the plates have been cleared from the table, now clean, and Gold is clearing down the last counter. Everything carefully packed away and where it should be.

Some things are better done by hand. It gives him something to do and not think about.

Part of him wondered if he had been about to offer something more...more than round two, anyhow. He would be expected to form a contract with at least one person here, even after quota. And logically he could see the sense in making arrangements for that as quickly has he tried to manage everything else: make it a non-issue before it can become an issue. Choose someone he didn't find objectionable, who didn't seem to hate him.

But there was something crass about that. As cold and transactional as he had tried to keep things thus far, it was clear that in some places, he really could only try. ]

[ There's entirely too much soap, nearly all of it scented and worth more money than Carver's seen in a long time. The sort of luxury that would have been unthinkable once, before he started moving up in the world, and that was suddenly ripped away along with everything else after the fall. He distrusts it in the aftermath, sensing a trap. A means to lure him into a false sense of security - dangerous, even if it's not a trick that Gold's playing on him so much as this place.

He showers, in the meantime. Even uses conditioner on his hair, picking the least offensive-smelling one and just going for it.

It's nice, he thinks absently. The heat of the water, the way it scrubs the grime away. The way he feels in the aftermath. And how the exhaustion starts hitting him now that the adrenaline and endorphins aren't rushing through him anymore. He doesn't sleep much these days. Can't manage more than a few hours in a single go.

There's a cost, eventually. But he comes out in due time, won't use all of Gold's hot water, and leans against the wall. Watching for a moment, his hair loose and damp, as Gold finishes cleaning up in the kitchen. ]

You wanna do this again, let me know. I don't like cooking in the Down. The food's shit and nobody will sell anything to me.

[ Whether Carver's presence truly startles him or not, one couldn't say for sure, but he certainly looks up at the sound of his voice like he was.

It would be so easy to offer, he realizes.

But he recovers a little, the ghost of a smile appearing has he hangs a washcloth to dry. ]

...I would certainly not be opposed.

[ Glance. ]

But I'm a lot more interested in knowing what you want.

[ Hmm. So they're talking about this now. Carver shrugs, spreading his hands out. A deceptively casual gesture. Maybe one that Gold won't buy, given everything they know about each other now and all the things they've done within these walls, but habits are habits. ]

I want back with my people.

[ Simple to say. Harder to do. ]

I want a place for them to be safe, where they won't starve to death or get torn to pieces in the middle of the night. I want a place where we can remember our dead without joining them before God calls us back. Either way, I want them back. Maybe they show up and we build that here. Maybe I find a way back to them. Doesn't matter. Right here, right now?

[ He shrugs again. Watching Gold like a hawk. ]

Haven't decided. Maybe we fuck, maybe you let me crash on the floor for a while so I can ignore my annoying ass roommate. I don't care. What'd you want, Gold?

[ I want back with my people. He didn't have people so much anymore. Just her. He wanted her safe, far away from anything like this. He tired of chains. He wanted to be free, where his hand couldn't be forced.

He wanted to see where his son had been buried.

But right here? Right now? ]

...I had meant in the more immediate sense.

[ But it sent a message, to jump right to the idea of arrangements. He didn't have a lot of the things many others here could offer: he was no paragon of beauty, or desire. But he has the luxuries that most dominants are just handed when they get here. He also has his magic.

That's always been enough.

A bit of that caught him, though. His brow furrows. ]

...And I have a second bed, you know.

[ Carver snorts at that. He's used to sleeping on the ground. It's more familiar, in many ways. ]

You got a habit of not answering questions, Gold. What'd you want?

And I have told you before that what I want here matters far less.

[ Because this place treats it as though he matters more. He has had the chance in the past to have that kind of power over another person, and he has always been very careful not to let himself go in that direction. It has always been key to be sure no one is with him because they feel required. ]

We're gonna go in circles if you keep doing that, [ Carver points out blandly. They aren't enemies yet. They haven't done any damage to each other. There were, maybe, some moments that bordered trust.

And now here they stand. Staring at each other. ]

Humor me. What do you want?

[ He swallows. ]

To be with someone that I want, and who wants me for more than just what I can provide for them. And if I can't have that, it's fine -- after a while this place won't care to give me the choice to wait for it. But I'd sooner know that up front.

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