[ Bastien would pinch a handful of arse to compliment that swagger, if he were willing to let go of By’s arm to do it. He nudges in with his shoulder instead. ]
As long as it would take you to get around to showing off on your violin. So I don’t know.
[ How long could Byerly possibly stand to be in the presence of musicians without busting out the fiddle? ]
[ He misses them still. Even if they are probably too old and too slow to be climbing into windows anymore, trespassing in a garden or three now and then would be nice. ]
How long do you think it would have taken you to like me? Or to notice me at all, while you were busy spending all of your money fine clothes and food for orphans.
Only the finest of silks for the orphans. Just so.
The only reason I didn't like you at first - [ And an apologetic little grin at that, over the fact that there was ever any moment that he didn't like Bastien - ] Was because I thought you were such a snob. And the only reason I cared about that was because I felt so embarrassed to be the penniless Southern relation. With a few pennies, I wouldn't have been so defensive.
[ The little smile that lifts the corner of his mouth is full of loathing - for himself, for having put up with those terrible people, as much as it is for the terrible people themselves. ]
It would have been nice not to have licked those boots. It is infuriating that no justice has ever come to most of them.
[ He’s not surprised at himself, that he wants one. But later maybe he’ll be retroactively surprised that he was so ready and unabashed to say so, without hedging or trying to get a read on Byerly first or to avoid being teased. ]
For sometimes. Sometimes I would like people to be able to see that I have someone.
But that’s it. That’s as far as it goes. No vows in front of Chantry Mothers, I swear.
[ He's surprised at the unguarded swiftness of that answer. For a moment, he think it's a bit - yes, and an elephant named Bing-Bong - but the facetious answer doesn't come.
And so he ends up simply pleased that he asked. Pleased that he had the courage to bring half-sincerity to it. A ring. ]
I want it to look like you. Like something you would wear, I mean. Maybe on the less flashy end of that spectrum, but not all the way to my end of it. Something our friends will look at and guess came from you, you know?
[ He glances up. ]
Do you want one?
[ The ring he gave Byerly before wasn’t for this—not for promises and claims and labels. It doesn’t count. ]
[ He'd have hesitated if Bastien hadn't been so certain. Would have hemmed and hawed a bit to save face. So he's glad Bastien answered first, so that he can be forthright. ]
[ That earns a quick, broad grin. A fox to curl around his finger—it’s a nice thought. Perhaps he can find someone to enchant it. One of the littler enchantments. Some resistance to cold. ]
How badly do you think we would tease ourselves, if we were twenty [ -something ] again?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Obviously so. Davide was a decently good-looking fellow, in his Antivan way, but not like Byerly. ]
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[ Yes he can. ]
And since you are prettier than anyone.
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It's so good to have my qualities recognized.
[ Then - ]
How long would it have taken?
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As long as it would take you to get around to showing off on your violin. So I don’t know.
[ How long could Byerly possibly stand to be in the presence of musicians without busting out the fiddle? ]
Five minutes?
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Rude. Also, I know it'd take more than that. You don't fall that easily.
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He admits, ]
I didn’t like you at all for a month or so. If you’d been rich and snobby I might have held out for four times as long.
And that is only to like you, [ he clarifies, ] as a friend.
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[ He flutters his eyelashes at Bastien. ]
Also, the process was sped along by the crimes we did together - don't forget that. Rich Byerly wouldn't be doing crimes.
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[ He misses them still. Even if they are probably too old and too slow to be climbing into windows anymore, trespassing in a garden or three now and then would be nice. ]
How long do you think it would have taken you to like me? Or to notice me at all, while you were busy spending all of your money fine clothes and food for orphans.
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Only the finest of silks for the orphans. Just so.
The only reason I didn't like you at first - [ And an apologetic little grin at that, over the fact that there was ever any moment that he didn't like Bastien - ] Was because I thought you were such a snob. And the only reason I cared about that was because I felt so embarrassed to be the penniless Southern relation. With a few pennies, I wouldn't have been so defensive.
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[ He doesn’t mean himself. He means Byerly’s terrible cousin and his cousin’s terrible friends. ]
Maybe that would have balanced out the absence of crime.
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[ The little smile that lifts the corner of his mouth is full of loathing - for himself, for having put up with those terrible people, as much as it is for the terrible people themselves. ]
It would have been nice not to have licked those boots. It is infuriating that no justice has ever come to most of them.
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It isn't too late.
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[ Ah. He stops himself and laughs, suddenly a little self-aware, as he finishes the thought: ]
That's something M'sieur l'Ambassadeur couldn't do.
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But until then: ]
Conjoint, then? If someone needs and deserves to know and we don’t have time to recite entire poems.
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[ He likes it. It doesn't have the transactionality of husband, and it's odd. He likes the two of them being a little odd. ]
Do you want a ring?
[ It's half-facetious, but only half. ]
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[ He’s not surprised at himself, that he wants one. But later maybe he’ll be retroactively surprised that he was so ready and unabashed to say so, without hedging or trying to get a read on Byerly first or to avoid being teased. ]
For sometimes. Sometimes I would like people to be able to see that I have someone.
But that’s it. That’s as far as it goes. No vows in front of Chantry Mothers, I swear.
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And so he ends up simply pleased that he asked. Pleased that he had the courage to bring half-sincerity to it. A ring. ]
Not even prostitutes dressed as Chantry Mothers?
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Rowena might get a kick out of it. But not so much of a kick we wouldn’t need to pay her.
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Plain, or gaudy?
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I want it to look like you. Like something you would wear, I mean. Maybe on the less flashy end of that spectrum, but not all the way to my end of it. Something our friends will look at and guess came from you, you know?
[ He glances up. ]
Do you want one?
[ The ring he gave Byerly before wasn’t for this—not for promises and claims and labels. It doesn’t count. ]
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[ He'd have hesitated if Bastien hadn't been so certain. Would have hemmed and hawed a bit to save face. So he's glad Bastien answered first, so that he can be forthright. ]
Something with a fox.
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How badly do you think we would tease ourselves, if we were twenty [ -something ] again?
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[ He grins in return. ]
I think tease is an understatement. Mock, more like. It's disgusting how sentimental old men get.
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