sweethymns | OPEN RP POST SIX

[ He still hasn't said the magic three words, but he knows that she knows that he's A Coward™. It's going to take a bit of time, and all he needs is her patience. If that makes him a selfish baby, well. That's been apparent from the jump.

He's always been better at being contrary, anyway. It's easier to feign ignorance and speak with his actions, which he does by smiling under the pressure of her index. ]

Do you really think I'm so petty?

[ The answer is yes. Absolutely yes. He's the pettiest person he knows, thank you very much.

He kisses the tip of her finger, in retaliation. ]

All I can say is that I'm quite vindictive when I want to be.

I do hope this new-found knowledge of me keeps you up at night.

[ He intends to keep her up at night for more reasons than one, so that's a bad double-entendre... bad garbage man. ]

Extremely. Your pettiness is almost as strong as my magic so consider that a compliment.

[The important magical words can wait and she knows this from experience. But this is progress even if Iona does get the creeping realization she may have unleashed an intimidating force. Her cheeks puff up slightly at the gall of the barely masked innuendo (and yet she enjoys it, in a guilty-pleasure sort of way).]

And you being vindictive? Please, I've known that since day one when you found my cafe.

[Day One is a miracle that couldn't be repeated, but she'll keep that one to herself.

Iona cups Claude's face in the palms of her hands; her right arm, the crystalline one, hums, a low buzz against his ear.]

Don't pretend I haven't been keeping you up at night even before all this.

[ Claude Aubert, a three-decade bottle of emotions and affection. Iona's in for a treat.

As always, he's smarmy. His calm eyes betray very little of the fact that his heart's been beating three times too fast for him to be comfortable, but his rise in temperature can't be concealed thanks to Iona's hands on him.

Not exactly as planned. ]

—Oh?

[ Time to retaliate. He hums under his breath, seemingly unconcerned. ]

What did you presume I did during those sleepless nights?

[He wants retaliation? Ladies first.

Iona's smile widens at the sensation of his warmth in her hands as she continues to cup his face. She had lost her balance for just a tiny bit when Claude made the first move, but she's found her opening. She feigns a thoughtful hum that mirrors his and tilts her head before responding.]

Well. I'm no mind reader, but I'm thinking you were having a sweet dream. I bet you were dreaming...

[Hands release his face, but they make a smooth transition to his shoulders, wrapping around him so that he's caught in her embrace, pulling him towards her so that their foreheads touch. The beat of her heart matches him and the light in her eyes is decidedly not calm. There's nothing but warmth in her eyes, but a special kind, that is only for him in this very moment.]

... About being like this. And then...

[She doesn't finish her sentence because it becomes lost as she gives him another kiss; her's is eager and loving and for the witch who had so much to give, it's like a breath of fresh air.]

[ It's all fun and games until someone is touching him, then all bets are off.

Which is to say— Claude is usually the one initiating contact in all forms. People don't usually try to touch him (he smells like corpses and embalming fluid and wears gloves that are two times too thick for the weather); it's only Gus that ruffles his hair or nudges his shoulder, so this sudden intimacy spurred on by a third party is. A lot.

He flinches, but not in a way that suggests that he's recoiling. In a way, it's strangely shy for him— he forms the beginnings of wait in the back of his throat— but it dies down, replaced with an edge of competitiveness.

Her warmth is reciprocated in equal measures, received with lips and just a taste of tongue. One hand massages the base of Iona's neck, and the other braces her against him along her hip.

When he pulls back, he chuckles against her chin. ]

You're quite conceited. [ wow???????? claude??????? but then again: ] But also, humble.

I've thought about more. [ jeez ]

[When the kiss ends, she's breathless, a fountain of energy for an entirely different reason than being her normal self. Iona laughs at Claude's insolence; it's what makes him Claude. Infuriating, fascinating, and finally, hers. She can't get enough of him, just a taste is enough to make her swoon in a way she wouldn't be able to explain to anyone else. It's the start of something new between them, an intimidating thought in itself, but Iona is more than ready to sprint. She had been waiting for a while now after all.]

You're terrible! [Of course, she chases him with another kiss, quick and playful, never fully closing the distance, and never fully separating from him either.]

I'm prepared, you know? We've... It's been a long month.

[Sighing tiredly, but contentedly, Iona lays her head against his shoulder.]

... And I know it's going to be new and I might mess up again, but... I'll just spoil you every now and then. No one else is up to it, so you know I'm the best one for the job.

[She had hated the irrationality of how people treated Claude's existence, confronted it with a furious conviction as if to try and prove that people were worth love and care and worth acknowledging that they could knock over the box they were born in and find a happiness that was just for them.

She prays in her heart that she can be part of his.

Iona lifts her head up and playfully flicks some of his mussed hair with her fingers.]

But now you just need to spoil me back so we can be even every now and then. Does that sound fair?

No, you must not.

[Speaking of daunting lists, despite Hawke's best efforts, Fenris isn't exactly at the point where he can read grocery items yet, let alone in whatever strange tongue Lien speaks. It's a miracle those stupid fish in their ears are letting them understand one another even now.]

However, if you are so inclined to make something, I can accompany you to pick up supplies.

[He could also bring Lien to Hawke's place and have them both eat the Champion of Kirkwall out of house and home, but his pride will let him do anything but.]

[Her cheeky smile returns.]

That's more like it! You'd be the perfect grocery shopping buddy in a city of vagabonds, vagrants, and very not nice people.

[Why yes, she did try to stretch out her alliteration, why do you ask]

This will be so fun! Oh, but I'll try to dial it down so I don't embarrass you. Not too much anyways.

Hmm... [She takes off her glasses, turning them over in her hands.]

Probably shouldn't wear these outside... Guess I could live without it, but I'm nearsighted...

[ Promises, promises. Claude listens to the torrential downpour of gentle reminders that they have a future together, however limited, and he has to duck his head down and breathe a sigh into his lapel.

His nerves are fraying. It scares him to be happy, but he's lost his ability to run. ]

...A give-and-take? It sounds like any given Tuesday.

[ He knows that's not what she means, and he knows she means well. In a way, he does, too.

She doesn't want someone who accepts everything because it's there. If she did, she'd choose anyone but Claude. and he knows it. ]

Across time, and across dimensions. We've chosen a difficult partnership, haven't we.

[ He pulls Iona closer, until she's firmly nestled into his chest. ]

I'll have to make sure you don't forget me.

We'll make it work. We always do!

[All the magic in the world could not compare to the comfort and warmth of being in someone's arms. As trite as it sounds, it just feels right for Iona. And she means what she says about making this work; they still have a physically impossible door as their bridge and now they have forged a powerful connection.

She won't put it that into words though, he'll just tease her again.

The witch indulges herself in his embrace before reaching up and playfully poking his forehead.]

Well, Dr. Aubert, the night beckons and unfortunately you technically still have work and cadavers vying for your attention. Want me to whip you up a care package before duty calls?

Ah, what a glamorous life. Witches, corpses, and care packages.

[ It's obvious that he wants to spend a bit more time here and a bit less time opening up dead bodies to check how terribly everyone on his side of the door fucked up, but that's life. Hesitantly, he unfurls Iona out of his arms and back onto the lukewarm flooring of their rooftop; the sun is 70% beneath the horizon now, casting Paris in foreboding orange-blue.

The cogs in a nearby cathedral turn. Somewhere, a bell chimes: cacophonous and deep. ]

Something sweet, then. Chocolate.

[ When has he stopped hiding from Iona, again? He can't even remember. ]

...By the by. I thought you were going to say goodbye to me, today.

[She stands up already formulating the food items she'll fill a basket with including chocolate before looking up at him with a slightly confused expression. She gives him a blink.]

"Goodbye?"

[Give her a second.]

Oh. Ohhhh.

[Her hair bounces as her head bobs back and forth as the realization comes to her and she puffs up her cheeks at him.]

I can't dump you yet! It's too early.

[ Oh. Time to laugh. ]

I'll be expecting a polite retraction of your affections for me within the week. In writing. Thank you.

[ CLAUDE!!!!! ]

Oh?

[Iona puts her hands on her hips in an exaggerated manner.]

Before or after you show just what exactly you had in mind for me?

[Younger she may be, but Iona is... Bold. This is a woman who faces down customers from all dimensions, magical creatures, rowdy criminal syndicates, and yes, a self-loathing doctor.]

Edited 2018-10-12 06:13 (UTC)

[ He's essentially a mob doctor who was raised to be a diplomat, which means he can put on many, many faces— including smarmy.

The challenge is met, and he rises to it. ]

After.

So you'll always be left wanting.

[ A 'charming' smile. ]

[Alright... So maybe for this kind of situation, Iona will admit that they're at an impasse (no, she's flushing) and she throws her arms up in the air and shrugs, trying to be casual about his remark.]

Right. Right, right!

[~~She's fanning herself with one hand god~~ Her words come out in a rush again.]

I know walking you to your job isn't exactly an ideal "real" date, but I can at least do that much. Um. I'll be here tomorrow too. And then I should probably open up the cafe and let everyone else know what's up.

["Everyone" consisting of her close circle of Monts, Solomon, her grandmother, those strange psychic twins, and yes... That one guy...

(Dominique Vargas is going to have that, "I told you so," look towards this new duo for a week. Mostly at Claude, rip.)]

Edited 2018-10-12 06:27 (UTC)

Don't trouble yourself. If you'd like a 'real' first date, I'd prefer to be the one setting it up.

[ Because, you know, he's usually the customer and she's usually the one cooking and cleaning after him. Hardly an even playing field, if you ask him.

(he's a stickler for things like this, sometimes.)

The faint flush doesn't go unnoticed, either. It makes him smile, and the expression actually reaches his eyes; a little twinkle, one that says that he is, in fact, smitten.

He starts gathering his things. ]

—Will you be telling everyone?

[ gggggggggod no ]

[Iona puts her hands behind her back, shuffling her feet as she waits for him.]

I won't be announcing it over a loudspeaker if that makes you feel better? I'm direct, but not for everything.

[She's also strangely shy about some things.]

Knowing the people around us, it might not be hard to figure out on their own. So... Yeah. We'll be discretionary if that's what you'd like to call it.

Edited 2018-10-12 06:50 (UTC)

Discretionary.

[ He repeats, rolling the word around on his tongue. Given his upbringing, he'd rather keep things under wraps unless absolutely necessary— it wouldn't do for anyone who harbors illwill against his family to take advantage of things that Claude holds dear. He doesn't have many of those things to begin with.

On the other hand... Iona doesn't have to deal with those politics. If she has the freedom to speak candidly about her situation, shouldn't she exercise those rights?

He stops and thinks about it with a measure of care that speaks to how much he's had to calculate his actions in the past. A beat or two of silence passes, before he passes his verdict. ]

I'll leave your side of things to you. It isn't so simple with me, you realize. [ A light half-breath, verging on a sigh. ] The person I'm most averse to will find out anyway, one way or another. I won't hold you responsible for his...

[ A grimace. ] ...prying.

[Let it be said that Iona will always be secretly amused by Claude's distaste and outright dislike of the mind reader that is her ex. Of course, he'll find out first whether she said anything or not.

But they'll deal with that as it comes.]

Hey.

[Iona reaches out with her arms and hugs him from the back, pressing herself into him.]

As I said, it'll work out. But I promise I'll be careful too.

[ They'll adapt. Claude doesn't doubt it, and he's already aware that Iona is stronger than any manufactured weapon or semi-automatic pistol.

Still, he'll be alert. It's his job to be. ]

Careful isn't your forte.

[ A quiet warning, as he looks over his shoulder and sighs. One hand draws up to bury itself in her hair, ruffling once, twice. ]

...I wouldn't worry overmuch. I don't expect things to be much different from before; you'll go charging forward, and I'll be pulling you back. That's how we've balanced things up until now, no?

Heh.

[She grins as Claude ruffles her hair.]

What if I'm the one pulling you instead?

[ A snort. ]

Spare yourself the trouble. I'm quite heavy.

[ In more ways than one. Then again, Iona has superhuman strength, doesn't she? He's doomed. ]

—Iona. [ He lifts his hand, and then crooks his index finger. ]

Hm?

[Iona lets go of Claude, letting her hands fall to her side as she looks up at him quizzically.]

What is it?

[Let's rewind to a few months back.

Regular customers of the Midnight Grind have a passing familiarity with the table that is nearest to the counter where the owner and employees are easily accessible for both service and pleasant conversation. Like every seat in the cafe, some people have designated certain areas as their main spot when dining in and may be more than a bit offended when they are reminded otherwise with the presence of another customer. The table near the counter is rather special, however.

There are people who remember the last person who exclusively sat there and for one obvious and specific reason. They remember a tall man, with lightly tanned skin, dark hair, and even darker eyes, occupying the spot, nursing a large mug of coffee, sometimes a cheap cigarette between his fingers, and some sort of journal or sketchbook laying flat on the table. They remember he was a friendly fellow who smiled at everyone, but shared a special one with the owner, the kind that can only be described as intimate.

That was a few years ago. Something changed. He began to sit there less and less until he was gone, like a good memory passing through.

But just so happens, that he's come back after several months.

The golem, Oren, is manning the cafe today, expressionless in his features, and yet an aura of irritation emanates from him. It's directed at the man near the counter with loose dark hair that frames his face in an appealing manner, enough that some of the younger female customers keep stealing glances and giggling amongst themselves. If he notices, he doesn't acknowledge the attention. He's much more interested in his drink and takes a deep sip to assess the flavor.]

... Coffee's good as ever, Oren. Hell, I say it's an improvement too.

I mean, you didn't even try to give me fake sugar this time.

[Oren doesn't reply, opting to busy himself with organizing the counter.

Dominique Vargas, is used to this treatment. Shrugging, he takes another sip before setting the mug down. He speaks up again, as if replying to s ome unsaid words.]

Yeah, yeah, I didn't come here unannounced. I let her know I'm back in town; no ulterior motives, promise. Just wanna see how she's been doing and I wanna check out the new people here.

[Dominique inhales the bitter aroma and then breathes out, leaning back against his seat to look up at the ceiling.]

From what I'm hearing, the person who sits here might not be happy to see me.

[The fact is, no one actually "told" him.

He's just good at picking up context clues.]

Edited 2018-10-19 05:56 (UTC)

OPEN RP POST SIX

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