[Their chest tightens, and for the briefest moment their hour hand quivers in place. As their gaze meets his, they find it difficult to break away. They can't think of a reason why they might want to.]
< You have? >
[The words fall from them clumsily, a tick that stumbles over a tock, a gear that turns with a bit more force than usual.
They feel as if they should say something more. They feel as if they've never spoken a word in their life.]
[A few chuckles leave him, adding a flash of his teeth in the smile. He wonders if it's really that much of a surprise or if it's just their inexperience in the reaction.]
I have so many questions for you. Things I want to know about you.
[The hand on their shoulder slides upwards to their neck, thumb settling along the red casing around their face like he might if it were their jaw. His voice grows quieter as he leans a bit closer.]
Don't you think we've been dancing around it for long enough?
[Skin against skin. His hand and their neck. It's a sensation they're unused to, and they can feel the goosebumps rise on their arms.
Their first instinct is to ask him if he's sure. They know how much they stand out, how many people, even here, see them and automatically assume they aren't human. But Altius has never made him feel anything less. He's been there. He's reached out to them. He's offered his hand. And now...]
< I can't promise you I can answer all of them. > [The gears continue to turn and whir with more force than usual, but the ticking itself remains steady. Soft, despite everything going on within.] < Hard to answer things I don't even know about myself, after all. >
[Though the smile remains, his gaze flickers downwards half an inch for the briefest moment. How strange it is, the warmth he feels to hear it said aloud—as if he wasn't certain. As if he would have called them here if he couldn't be sure of the outcome. He can feel his pulse racing all the same, and his other hand moves to just above their heart, drawn there for him to know if theirs is moving just as quickly.]
We can find the rest out together. [His thumb sweeps across to their face, to draw attention to the space where their mouth might have been.] Maybe the first we can answer is... if you'd enjoy it if I kissed you.
[It practically leaps from their rib cage into his hand at the question. They can't feel the movements of his hand across the face of their clock, a bit of pressure noted by the mechanisms within, perhaps, but nothing quite so solid as the way his hand felt along the back of their neck.
Even so, they incline their head, nodding.]
< I don't know. Think we should give it a try? >
[Even if they can't feel it, to know how it feels at all, from him specifically...
[He might have felt ridiculous for this, once upon a time. There's certainly a level of it that doesn't escape him now, even if it's largely drowned out by his desire.]
I think so, [he murmurs.
None of this will matter, in the end; they'll both return home, likely with no memory of their experiences here. Even if they did remember, it won't change their fates; Onyx will continue his crusade of destruction as he must, and Dante will suffer a thousand more deaths before they meet their end.
A shadow flickers under the hand on Dante's shoulder, as if threatening to overtake their coat—and in less than a second it's gone, like it had never been there at all.
The truth is that he wants this, however pointless or absurd it may be. His exhale fogs the surface of their face before he presses his lips against them, eyes closing to take in every other sensation he can. The hand against the clock's casing moves to the back of their head as if to thread his fingers through their flames—what that must feel like is another answer he's wanted.]
[Up close, those rhythmic, mechanical sounds almost resemble a heartbeat. Steady, yet somehow insistent. Fire dances through Altius's fingers, warmer than the surrounding air, yet nowhere near the blaze its appearance might imply. Thinner than water, more substantial than air, a breeze without movement.
What would the others think if they were to see them now, they wonder? Is this moment even something the company would allow them to have?
Nothing more than a fleeting thought. They can be selfish this once. Just once. They can have this until they have to return.
Their hand slips from their chest to his back, and when Altius finally pulls away they duck their head, resting the top rim of the clock against his shoulder.]
[For all the lack of flesh and blood, it's a fascinating set of feelings he can't help but adore because of its source. Like a puzzle he has to put together, learning how it feels to be with someone for the first time all over again. There's a thrill to the newness of it, how all the little pieces slide into place.
When Dante moves to rest against him, he wraps his arms around them, leaning the side of his own head against theirs as he remains silent for a few moments, taking it all in. What this means to him, what it must mean to them. How he might get to keep doing this and more. How much he'd like to show them.
He trails his fingers up and down their back in a slow path. Then:]
[The nonchalant dry humor they're trying would have actually made him laugh by itself, this time, but not as much as their last remark does; a few escape him, almost sharp but still good humored. He hasn't been thanked for being with someone before.]
If that's how it is, it's only fair I thank you in return—just this once. For letting me share this with you.
[Despite all the mystery that surrounds them, intentionally and not, they've reached out to him in ways he couldn't have anticipated. He wonders when that started, really...]
I'm looking forward to that trying. Next time perhaps we can add something new.
[Altius lets out a hum of acknowledgement—a wordless promise to make it happen. He still has so many thoughts and questions he wants to answer, to find out all the little things they might like.
Like Dante, he allows himself to savor the closeness, his breaths deep and slow as he commits the experience to memory.
But eventually, he comes back to Earth, so to speak. Back to more practical matters.]
[Although they separate themselves from each other, he still stays close enough for their shoulders to nearly touch, resting his chin against his fingers as he listens, elbow against the bar.]
I'm sure we can manage it. [It's convenient. He wonders how used to living with a small number of belongings they are... are they even allowed much, back home? His pleasant expression fades slightly at the thought of it, but that doesn't last. Besides, he's just thought of something. His eyebrows rise, but then they come down again as he follows the idea.]
—hm, no, it would probably be simpler if we just made an extra trip, if we can't. But did I tell you I've been learning to ride a horse?
[He tilts his head in a slight shrug—not a yes, not a no.]
It would be simpler to just call a carriage in this case, I think. I'd have to make sure it's amenable to the extra weight and learn how to secure that in addition to the rest I'm still working on.
[Not that he wouldn't put in the effort, especially for Dante, but it would probably be overboard for no good reason, just to move them out of the inn to this house.]
Still, it might be worth thinking about in the future. It would be good to know for emergent situations, or places the locals aren't willing to go.
[He wonders why he even felt the need to say it aloud, brought up the topic when he already put it aside as largely pointless. It's unusual for him, just speaking without regard for the practicality...]
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no subject
< You have? >
[The words fall from them clumsily, a tick that stumbles over a tock, a gear that turns with a bit more force than usual.
They feel as if they should say something more. They feel as if they've never spoken a word in their life.]
no subject
I have so many questions for you. Things I want to know about you.
[The hand on their shoulder slides upwards to their neck, thumb settling along the red casing around their face like he might if it were their jaw. His voice grows quieter as he leans a bit closer.]
Don't you think we've been dancing around it for long enough?
no subject
Their first instinct is to ask him if he's sure. They know how much they stand out, how many people, even here, see them and automatically assume they aren't human. But Altius has never made him feel anything less. He's been there. He's reached out to them. He's offered his hand. And now...]
< I can't promise you I can answer all of them. > [The gears continue to turn and whir with more force than usual, but the ticking itself remains steady. Soft, despite everything going on within.] < Hard to answer things I don't even know about myself, after all. >
< But... I'd like to be with you too. >
no subject
We can find the rest out together. [His thumb sweeps across to their face, to draw attention to the space where their mouth might have been.] Maybe the first we can answer is... if you'd enjoy it if I kissed you.
no subject
Even so, they incline their head, nodding.]
< I don't know. Think we should give it a try? >
[Even if they can't feel it, to know how it feels at all, from him specifically...
It's something they've wondered for awhile.]
no subject
I think so, [he murmurs.
None of this will matter, in the end; they'll both return home, likely with no memory of their experiences here. Even if they did remember, it won't change their fates; Onyx will continue his crusade of destruction as he must, and Dante will suffer a thousand more deaths before they meet their end.
A shadow flickers under the hand on Dante's shoulder, as if threatening to overtake their coat—and in less than a second it's gone, like it had never been there at all.
The truth is that he wants this, however pointless or absurd it may be. His exhale fogs the surface of their face before he presses his lips against them, eyes closing to take in every other sensation he can. The hand against the clock's casing moves to the back of their head as if to thread his fingers through their flames—what that must feel like is another answer he's wanted.]
no subject
What would the others think if they were to see them now, they wonder? Is this moment even something the company would allow them to have?
Nothing more than a fleeting thought. They can be selfish this once. Just once. They can have this until they have to return.
Their hand slips from their chest to his back, and when Altius finally pulls away they duck their head, resting the top rim of the clock against his shoulder.]
no subject
When Dante moves to rest against him, he wraps his arms around them, leaning the side of his own head against theirs as he remains silent for a few moments, taking it all in. What this means to him, what it must mean to them. How he might get to keep doing this and more. How much he'd like to show them.
He trails his fingers up and down their back in a slow path. Then:]
Well... what do you think?
no subject
[The feeling of being wanted that way, his warm body so close to their own... They'll "test" it as many times as it takes.]
< Thank you. >
[They don't know what else to say, even if the statement feels completely ridiculous the moment it's expressed.]
< ...I'm not even sure what I'm thanking you for. >
no subject
If that's how it is, it's only fair I thank you in return—just this once. For letting me share this with you.
[Despite all the mystery that surrounds them, intentionally and not, they've reached out to him in ways he couldn't have anticipated. He wonders when that started, really...]
I'm looking forward to that trying. Next time perhaps we can add something new.
no subject
What sort of expression would they be making right now if they had a proper face, they wonder?]
< I'd like that. >
[Someday, when they can bring themselves to let go of him, maybe.]
no subject
Like Dante, he allows himself to savor the closeness, his breaths deep and slow as he commits the experience to memory.
But eventually, he comes back to Earth, so to speak. Back to more practical matters.]
... Do you have much to move?
no subject
[A few extra outfits they picked up after their old house was destroyed, their card binder, their gun, a few extra things here and there.
They let go of him, albeit reluctantly, and lean on the counter, folding their arms]
< More than what I had when I first went to the inn, but nothing that won't fit in a few boxes. Might even just be one trip if we both go. >
no subject
I'm sure we can manage it. [It's convenient. He wonders how used to living with a small number of belongings they are... are they even allowed much, back home? His pleasant expression fades slightly at the thought of it, but that doesn't last. Besides, he's just thought of something. His eyebrows rise, but then they come down again as he follows the idea.]
—hm, no, it would probably be simpler if we just made an extra trip, if we can't. But did I tell you I've been learning to ride a horse?
no subject
[A horse... For some reason the thought leaves them a little uneasy, even though it's just another animal]
< Thinking of using one to carry things for us? >
no subject
It would be simpler to just call a carriage in this case, I think. I'd have to make sure it's amenable to the extra weight and learn how to secure that in addition to the rest I'm still working on.
[Not that he wouldn't put in the effort, especially for Dante, but it would probably be overboard for no good reason, just to move them out of the inn to this house.]
Still, it might be worth thinking about in the future. It would be good to know for emergent situations, or places the locals aren't willing to go.
[He wonders why he even felt the need to say it aloud, brought up the topic when he already put it aside as largely pointless. It's unusual for him, just speaking without regard for the practicality...]
Are you very familiar with them?
no subject
[And technically the latter was either seen through someone else's memories or looked more like it came off a carousel.]
< Which... most people wouldn't. They belonged to other people too, not to me. >