[ Byerly takes his hand. For a moment he thinks his repetitive plinking is just obnoxious, and he puts up no resistance. ]
No. I have already told. Time can get fucked.
[ All cheekily serious authority.
Byerly still has his hand. Bastien glances at his profile, then grips back, in a settling-in way, fingers shifting and getting comfortable, like it’s nothing. It shouldn’t be anything.
After that pause, his tone mellows to more measured optimism. ]
Even if it goes wrong, it will not be because you are some hideous blight on her life. It will be because you are a person, and she is a person, and sometimes that it how it goes. And afterwards both of you will be all right.
[ And that–being the caretaker of a hope that Byerly needs to speak that softly—makes him feel—what?
Touched. Gutted. Tempted to say yes now, because what was the point of waiting again, or at least to put the whole thinking plan on hold for the night and start again in the morning.
Bastien settles for tightening his grip on Byerly's hand, and on second thought gathering his whole arm a little closer, and leaning his head against his shoulder. Another second and he pivots his cheek against said shoulder to be a little closer to his ear and whispers, like it's a scandalous little secret, ] Me, too.
[ Quiet stifled laughter at that fair and correct observation bleeds directly into a sympathetic aw. He hauls himself up, too, and then lies on the stage for a moment to recuperate before getting the rest of the way to his feet.
Despite that: ]
I don't.
[ Tonight. ]
This was great, By. All of it. [ It could have been a very shitty night. ] Thank you.
[ There'd been some aspects of it that were trying to soften the blow, perhaps. It's a strange and uncomfortable thing that he cannot consider directly, why there is a blow involved, but: there is, and so some of this had been an attempt to gentle it. But the bulk of this had just been because it was fun. Because Bastien is fun. ]
Thank you, dear - What is it Athessa calls you? Baz?
[ His back goes up like he's been pet in the wrong direction, but he laughs a little, too, and counter-threatens: ]
Boh—no.
[ That won't work, given it's pronounced Beau, and if Byerly is calling him Burrz he's not going to call him Handsome. That's not comeuppance at all. ]
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[ Byerly takes his hand. For a moment he thinks his repetitive plinking is just obnoxious, and he puts up no resistance. ]
No. I have already told. Time can get fucked.
[ All cheekily serious authority.
Byerly still has his hand. Bastien glances at his profile, then grips back, in a settling-in way, fingers shifting and getting comfortable, like it’s nothing. It shouldn’t be anything.
After that pause, his tone mellows to more measured optimism. ]
Even if it goes wrong, it will not be because you are some hideous blight on her life. It will be because you are a person, and she is a person, and sometimes that it how it goes. And afterwards both of you will be all right.
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Maker, I don't want to pressure you. But I hope that you will say yes.
[ To the query. To the desire to continue. ]
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Touched. Gutted. Tempted to say yes now, because what was the point of waiting again, or at least to put the whole thinking plan on hold for the night and start again in the morning.
Bastien settles for tightening his grip on Byerly's hand, and on second thought gathering his whole arm a little closer, and leaning his head against his shoulder. Another second and he pivots his cheek against said shoulder to be a little closer to his ear and whispers, like it's a scandalous little secret, ] Me, too.
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Then, a breath in. ]
Should we call it a night? Or do you want to keep carousing?
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We should go. If we miss the last ferry we will have to find a place to stay, and tavern rooms make me really slutty.
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[ A kiss to the crown of his head. Then By stands, and hauls himself from the orchestra pit - ]
Ahhh, I feel old.
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Despite that: ]
I don't.
[ Tonight. ]
This was great, By. All of it. [ It could have been a very shitty night. ] Thank you.
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Thank you, dear - What is it Athessa calls you? Baz?
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Boh—no.
[ That won't work, given it's pronounced Beau, and if Byerly is calling him Burrz he's not going to call him Handsome. That's not comeuppance at all. ]
Bah.
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[ He does whatever medieval fantasy dance step would evoke the medieval fantasy equivalent of Vaudeville humor. ]
We can start tomorrow.
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It'll be fun.
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[ He links his arm into By's for a couple steps, but then also to tug him in an off-stage, exit-y direction. Ferry. ]