futaille | Open Post: Who invented this calendar anyway?

Well, Étienne might not have been planning an event, but Dionysus has been planning things for this day for quite some time now. Around dinnertime he comes and finds him, wrapping his arms around Étienne's waist from behind.

"Happy birthday, love." Dionysus has on a wine red chiton (made of a nice wool, because of the season) with gold trim and a golden band that wraps around his midsection and crisscrosses over his chest. He's got golden leaves in his hair to match, and has styled his bangs so they frame his face in the specific way he's noticed Grantaire favors.

Although he's a bit startled at the sudden hug, he at least manages not to flinch enough to knock down dominoes. He laughs and turns in Dionysus's arms. "Thank you," he says before stooping to give him a kiss.

Dionysus returns the kiss, as warm and sweet as he can manage (which is saying something). Once they part, he says, "How're the dominoes going?"

"Not bad. It's a good surface for it." He grins. "It's a good surface for a lot of things, in fairness."

"Multi-purpose," he says before leaning to kiss Grantaire's neck.

"Exactly. You look nice today, by the way."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I made dinner, by the way."

"Oh? What did you make? No matter what, I'm sure it's delicious, of course."

"Well, ah, I was a bit limited by, y'know, the season and all, but I made some baked ziti."

"Sounds lovely. Give me just a bit to finish this and then we can go eat!"

"Yeah, of course!" One more quick kiss and then he backs away. "I'm going to stand over here so I don't accidentally bump into the table and ruin it."

He shoots Dionysus a wink. "And so you can get a better view." With that he turns back to the table, setting a few more dominoes in a curve. He's not going to get quite as elaborate as he was intending to, but he's got a little bit of time at least.

"It is a nice view from here, isn't it? You know, I hadn't noticed." This is, of course, a lie. He noticed. He always notices.

"Oh, I'm sure you hadn't." He finishes setting the last few dominoes and promptly knocks over the one on the end to start the cascade.

Dionysus watches with a big grin as they all fall over.

And Grantaire promptly turns and bows. "Et voilà!"

Dionysus applauds! "That was wonderful, dear!"

"I couldn't have asked for a better audience."

"Oh, now that's not entirely true. You could have had an audience of several of me. I mean, just because it hasn't happened before doesn't mean it couldn't happen, right?"

"I have liked every one of you that I've met, so I certainly wouldn't complain. But you're a perfect audience all by yourself too."

"Well, I do have a lot of experience with shows you've put on just for me, so I suppose it makes sense."

"Extensive experience, as luck would have it."

"I'm one lucky god," he says with a grin. "Are you ready to go eat?"

"Absolutely." He can clean up the dominoes later, after all.

"Alright, let's go," he says, then stops. "Ooh, hold on, I have an idea. I'll make it more of a surprise. Can I blindfold you? Granted this would probably work better if I'd thought of it before I told you I was taking you to dinner at all, but the rest can still be a surprise."

"As a general rule, if you ask to blindfold me, the answer is always going to be yes no matter what the situation is."

"I figured," he laughs, and then very carefully makes a blindfold out of vines and leaves that wraps itself around Grantaire's head. He also makes some more vines wrap around Grantaire's wrists, tying them behind his back. This clearly doesn't have anything to do with any sort of secret keeping, it's just for Grantaire's benefit. It does take Dionysus a good bit longer to accomplish than it might normally, due to the season and all, but when it's done he kisses Grantaire on the cheek. "Alright, I've got you," he says gently, wrapping an arm around Grantaire's waist so he can start steering him out of the game room and down the hall.

A content little smile settles on Grantaire's face and he leans against Dionysus a bit more than strictly speaking necessary as they walk.

Dionysus doesn't say much as they walk, but he does lean over several times to leave kisses on Grantaire's cheek. He's so incredibly beautiful, after all, Dionysus just simply has no other option. Once they finally get to the dining room he gets Grantaire seated in a chair, busies himself with the last few tasks he has to do to get everything perfect, then vanishes the blindfold and wrist vines.

The small room is illuminated by rows of twinkling string lights and several well-placed candles, giving everything a cozy warmth. The table they're at is fairly small, and on it sits their dinner plates with what Dionysus hopes isn't too mediocre of a baked ziti (he did the best he could under the circumstances). There's also, of course, a couple of glasses of wine, which Dionysus seems to be a little out of breath from the effort of conjuring. Lastly, perhaps expectedly, a basket with several wrapped presents and a green card sits on a table beside theirs.

Grantaire's eyes widen a bit as he takes in the tableau. "Oh. It's... it's wonderful."

He smiles. "I'm glad you like it, love."

"Of course I do. I have no idea how I possibly wouldn't have."

"Well, I dunno, maybe you decided you hate candles in the past few hours."

"You're right, you're right. I've fallen hard for electric lights. Can't do anything without them."

"Right, right, of course. Well, how do you feel about electric candles?"

"They need to pick a side," says Grantaire, who is horribly allergic to picking sides.

"Ah yes, clearly," he says, trying to keep a straight face.

"You have to be electricity, or you have to be a candle. None of this halfway nonsense."

"Oh?" he says, lifting his wine glass to take a sip. "Please elaborate."

"Electric candles are fakery!" He takes a sip of his own wine. "Trying to replicate candles but you can tell."

He nods, very seriously considering this. "You don't suppose it's just that they have lofty aspirations, do you?"

"Oh, they're idealists."

"That explains it then!"

"Entirely too well, if you ask me." He has a sip of his wine.

Dionysus watches Grantaire drink, a little dreamily, resting his head on his hand. He's so beautiful Dionysus can hardly stand it.

He's getting at least a bit used to this at this point. "Yes, yes, look your fill."

"Well, I'll never tire of looking at you, so we might as well eat dinner before it gets cold," he laughs.

"Only if you do too." He does grab his fork and start in on it, though.

"Oh, of course," he says, picking up his own fork and taking a bite.

A few bites in to his ziti, he nods. "This is good! Thank you!"

Dionysus smiles. "I'm glad you like it!" He's not the best at cooking under perfect circumstances, after all, having rarely cooked for himself before arriving at the mansion, and so he has been nervous about this meal. If they were on Earth he would have just taken Grantaire to a nice restaurant, and let someone else cook for them. "I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but I suppose it's hard to go wrong with pasta."

"I realize this is terribly hypocritical advice coming from me, but don't sell yourself short. It's good and you did a good job with it."

"...Okay, yes, I suppose at this point it's hypocritical of me if I don't accept the compliment, huh. Thank you, love."

"You're welcome. And thank you for making it."

"It's an important day, it needs to be treated as such."

"Oh, it's not that important. But thank you anyway."

"It is important. It's the day you were born. That's very important."

"Having been born probably turned out better for me than not, true."

"Well I for one am incredibly glad you were born."

"I'll admit it would be slightly worrisome if you didn't. Although it's only my birthday on a technicality, really."

"It doesn't matter which day we celebrate you on, as long as I get to celebrate you at some point every year."

"I have a sneaking suspicion that you do so daily anyway."

He laughs. "I want to celebrate you every day, and do large, lavish celebrations once a year," he amends.

"Well, this is the perfect amount of lavish, then."

"Good, I'm glad. You know I like spoiling you as much as I can."

"You do a good job of it."

"I'm glad you think so! And you haven't even gotten to my present for you yet."

"Well, I figured I should finish eating first."

"Yes, good plan. Makes it easier."

"Nice to know you agree." He digs back into the food.

Dionysus smiles and goes back to eating as well, but it's perhaps a little slower, since every time Grantaire takes a sip of his wine Dionysus is incredibly aware of it, and has to stop what he's doing to stare.

He looks over at one of those moments and smiles. "That compelling?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, feigning innocence. "I am just eating my dinner."

"Oh, of course." He takes a long sip of wine.

"Well now you're doing it on purpose," he says, but he definitely does not sound like he minds.

"Doing what on purpose?" Another slow sip.

"No clue, you should probably keep on until I figure it out."

"Of course. Just let me know." Another sip before returning to the food.

Dionysus concentrates really intently and a little vine starts snaking its way around Grantaire's arm.

He looks up at Dionysus with a wry smile. "Starting the gifts early?"

"Oh, this isn't part of the gift, this is just payback."

"Ah." A bite of ziti. "Good payback."

Edited 2025-05-27 02:58 (UTC)

"Mmhmm, I thought so." He also takes a bite.

"Good talk." He works on scarfing down the ziti.

Dionysus is decently worn out from using his powers so much already today (has he mentioned lately that he HATES DARK???) that he does, eventually, drop the vine, and goes back to finishing up his dinner as well.

He misses the vine when it dissipates but also gets how the month is tough on Dionysus, so doesn't comment but still tosses him little fond smiles here and there as he finishes his dinner.

Once they're both done eating, Dionysus gives Grantaire a kiss, refills their wine, and clears away the plates. He then brings over the basket of wrapped gifts -- a small, squared box, a slightly larger rectangular gift, a card, and what Grantaire can probably guess as two wrapped wine bottles. "The card has to be last," he explains.

"All right." He goes for the obvious first, unwrapping the wine bottles.

They’re both red wines, but the bottle of one has a pattern of swirls made in the glass. Dionysus points to that one. “This one is hallucinogenic, so be careful. Kind of like the kykeon, but without, y’know, the cheese. And hopefully a little more enjoyable of an experience all around, whenever you drink it.”

"Oh, excellent. I'll probably save it for after Dark so we can celebrate together."

“Sounds lovely,” he says with a smile. Mostly he’s just glad that if it ends up being bad somehow he’ll be at full strength and able to nullify the effects for Grantaire easily. But hopefully it won’t come to that, of course.

"Funny. We seem to agree!" He looks back at the basket. "Which box do you suggest first?"

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe the larger one though?”

"As you wish!" He pulls the larger one out of the basket and carefully unwraps it.

Inside the slim box is a dark green book. It clearly has been hand-bound, by someone without much experience in binding books at that. On the cover, embossed in gold leaf, are the words The Collected Works of Étienne Grantaire.

If he opens it, he will find several of his …plays, which have been printed on the printing press.

“I had Enjolras show me how to get it all printed up. … I didn’t tell him what it was, but I suspect he had close to an idea, because he said I’m lucky he supports free press,” Dionysus says with a laugh. “And then I got Aziraphale to show me how to bind it. I, ah, I did explain to him what it was for.”

Grantaire turns quite a bright pink and he laughs somewhat helplessly as he flips through the book. "Oh là là, I was certainly never expecting to be published."

Ughhhh he's so cute when he blushes. "And why not? They're the best plays I've ever seen."

"You are incredibly biased." He does not seem the least bit put out by this.

"I'm the god of Drama, so whatever my opinions are regarding plays are clearly the correct opinions," he laughs.

"Clearly I'll have to reenact some sometime, then."

"Well, you know, I have a very busy schedule, but I might be convinced to sit in on a reading later this evening, perhaps."

"Perfect. Until later, then." He sets the book aside, giving Dionysus a wink, and grabs the other package.

It takes Dionysus a moment to realize Grantaire has started opening the last package, because his thoughts drifted quite rapidly to the realization of exactly what it would mean, for him, if he and Grantaire happen to be sleeping together when Grantaire starts reenacting one of his plays, and that is an incredibly distracting thought for reasons that make him unbelievably glad to be the god of Drama.

...Oh, right, Grantaire is opening the gift. Inside that box is a bracelet made out of a golden vine, with tiny, glittering garnet grapes weaving throughout¹. "I know you don't wear much jewelry, but I thought you might -- you might like this for, y'know, special occasions." Or every day, but he's not going to press his luck.

1. Sort of like this, but with the grape clusters being garnets instead of more gold.

"Oh, I'm impressed." He slides the box over to Dionysus and extends his wrist. "Put it on me?"

"Of course!" He takes Grantaire's arm, scoots his sleeve out of the way, and then leans over to kiss the inside of his wrist, lavishing a few moments of attention there before he pulls back and actually puts the bracelet on him.

He holds his wrist up and looks at the bracelet on it. "I feel adorned."

Dionysus smiles, staring at Grantaire like he's the only thing that exists. "You should. I should adorn you in jewelry head to toe."

He grins. "Oh, head to toe? That might chafe some parts."

"Well, we'll just have to leave those parts exposed, I suppose. What a pity."

He bursts into giggles. "Oh, what a sight I'd make."

"A very pleasant sight."

"If you of all people didn't think so, I'd be worried."

He laughs. "If I ever say anything otherwise, assume I'm somehow being held hostage."

"Who could possibly hold you hostage?"

"Oh, nobody, so you don't have to worry about me ever saying that."

He laughs. "Oh, good to know. Card next, then?"

"Ah, I suppose it's time for that part, yes," he says with a smile.

The inside of the card reads simply,
Where I got to meet the real you for the first time.

Yep, it's a scavenger hunt.

Never having seen a scavenger hunt before, he looks up quizzically. "What's this?"

"Go to that location and you'll find out."

"Intriguing." He stands, quickly leans over the table to give Dionysus a kiss, and heads out the door towards the entrance.

Dionysus follows behind him, enjoying the view.

Upon reaching the lobby, he starts to look around. "All right, what am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it," he answers cryptically. Hopefully eventually he will notice an identical card mixed in with all of the papers on the welcome table.

"Ah, voilà," he says as he spots it. He picks it up and opens it curiously.

"Ah, good job."

The inside of this card reads,
Where you became my oracle.

He reads it over a couple of times and then glances over at Dionysus. "... What if I don't remember the answer?"

Dionysus laughs. "Sorry, I can give you another hint if you want."

"Please?"

"Okay. Hmm. Ah, it's a good place to get snackies."

"Kitchen!" Does he know for sure which one? Not remotely. But he still makes a beeline for the one they use most.

That's not the right answer, but Dionysus decides to let him hunt around in a kitchen for a few minutes before he's going to give another clue.

He looks around for the next clue for a bit before figuring he's probably not in the right place. "... Another hint?"

“Paris.”

"Merde." He immediately starts for the café.

“I’m worried I might have made this too hard,” he says, following Grantaire.

"It's a compliment to me, if anything. And you're here to help if I go astray." They get to the café and he starts to look around.

"That's true, I can give as many clues as I need to," he says, hopping up to sit on a table while Grantaire looks around.

Sitting in one of the chairs is the new card.
Where I learned your name, and you helped me plan party invitations, and countless other memories.

He reads it and looks at Dionysus. "Wasn't that just my room?"

Dionysus grins. "Ding ding ding. Got it in one this time."

"You showed up all panicked. I'm not likely to forget that. So that's my studio now..." He heads off.

"I felt terrible about it! I still do! We had been together for a long time and I hadn't even asked you what your first name is."

"It's still fine! It was then and is now! My first name's been used more here than it had been in the previous ten!"

"It's a very good name."

"It's an ironic one, in the end, but I'm glad you like it." He gets to their rooms and he heads into the foyer.

"I love it, actually."

"And like it too." He pushes the door open to his R-cave and starts digging around. It's a bit trickier than the previous searches, because the clutter level is significantly higher.

It might take him a while to find it, but taped to the back of a canvas is the card, which says,
Where you learned what the dividing line between wine and vinegar tastes like before deciding to name a planet after me anyway.

"Oh! That was at the Bacchanal after last Dark! Where was... Hold on." He digs around a bit more before discovering his original invitation used as a bookmark in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Ha!"

Back out the doors he goes.

"Aww, you kept the invitation?" Dionysus says, touched.

"Of course I kept the invitation!"

"That's so sweet, love." He grabs Grantaire's hand to pull him into a kiss.

He wraps his free arm around Dionysus as he returns the kiss in question. Thankfully he's not in any particular rush.

Dionysus draws the kiss out, one hand up in Grantaire's hair and the other wrapped around his waist. It's really a good thing Grantaire isn't in a hurry.

When the kiss ends, he lets out a little sigh and smiles. One more quick kiss and then he reluctantly pulls away to continue.

"You're beautiful," he says as they walk.

"So are you. Which makes this the finest adorned hallway in the world."

"So you're adorning a hallway while adorned," he says with a laugh while gesturing to the bracelet.

He holds up his wrist and grins. "So I am." They do make it to the parlor and he enters and looks around.

This is one of Dionysus' favorite rooms, to the point that he's reasonably convinced he has to be the one who willed it into existence in the first place. It's perfect for all sorts of parties, and when he hasn't cleared it out for an event, it is full of comfortable places to sit or lie down. It was the main source of all the cushions he took to his room when he was first decorating it, back shortly after he arrived. He makes himself comfortable now, because he knows where the card is hidden (camouflaged in a pile of similarly-colored cushions) and anticipates it being a while before Grantaire finds it.

When he does find it, it says,
Where you gave me my stars, and where I get to wake up beside you nearly every morning.

It does take a bit of digging before he finally uncovers the next note and as soon as he reads it, he laughs. As he walks by Dionysus, he takes him by the hand and pulls him along, heading right back where they came from.

"I could've changed the order around, I suppose, but where's the fun in that?"

"No fun at all, obviously. This is perfect."

"I'm glad you're having fun with it."

"As if you didn't know I'd be having fun with it when you thought of it."

"What can I say, I know my target audience very well."

"Yes you do." He stops to give Dionysus a kiss.

Dionysus kisses him back, of course, because kissing Étienne is one of his favorite activities.

In that case he gets one more before Grantaire continues down the hallway, Dionysus still in tow.

Once they arrive back in the room, it should be fairly obvious where the card is, because the green of the card sticks out pretty clearly from the red of their blanket.

Where you told me about my play.

And then in slightly smaller writing under that, it says,

(no, I’m not making you go outside, don’t worry)

"If you're not making me go outside..." He heads to the window to peer out, and conveniently finds it taped on the reverse side. "Oh. Well then." He slides it open and carefully reaches to grab it.

"I thought about making you go outside, but then I realized that would mean I would have to go out twice, once to put the card there and then again with you to retrieve it, and that sounded like a terrible plan."

The new card reads,
Where you need supervision.

He reads the card over a couple of times, even though it's extraordinarily short.

"... Isn't that just everywhere?"

Dionysus bursts into laughter at that. "Okay, that's fair. Ah... hmm. Well, if I say 'where you do a hobby that makes your ass look really really good' that could also be everywhere, because your ass always looks good."

"I'm fairly confident you see breathing as a hobby that makes my derrière look really really good. But still..." He heads off to where he practices his savate.

"What can I say," he says, following behind. "It's a good butt."

He promptly wiggles it a bit as he walks.

Aaaaaand Dionysus is going to reach and grab it, because of course he is.

He laughs, having fully expected that, and continues on to his destination. It's not a very cluttered room, so the card can't be too difficult to track down.

"Oh no, it fell..." The card had been taped to Grantaire's punching bag, but clearly the tape and the punching bag material did not get along very well, and now the card is lying on the ground underneath it.

When he picks it up, it says,
Where I need supervision.

A griiiin, and he grabs Dionysus's hand again to head to the dance studio.

"Ohh, so this one you knew immediately, huh?"

"I knew what it meant this time."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"You know what I meant." And into the dance studio he goes!

Propped over the barre is a card that reads,

Where I got to watch you dancing, covered in glitter, and couldn’t keep my eyes off you for the whole night.

"Surely you had to look at the guest of honor at least once."

"Oh, you know what I mean."

He laughs. "I'll also point out that this was where we started." Still, though! Back to the game room!

"We didn't start the scavenger hunt in there, we started the scavenger hunt in the kitchen."

"I meant the entire adventure." This is a very easy one, though, as he knows his way to the game room by heart. "Also, I was finding that glitter on me for months."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," says Dionysus, who approves of glitter in most situations.

When they get back to the game room it'll be pretty immediately obvious what he's looking for, and it's not another card this time. Standing against the wall, on top of a little rolling dolly, is a brand new pinball machine. There's a pile of vines and leaves on the floor, wrapped around the dolly and half-falling off by now.

He stands in the doorway and stares. ".... How?"

Dionysus grins. "I moved it in here with vines while we were walking to the kitchen. That's why I put that blindfold on you. Would've been easier had it not been, y'know, Dark and all, but I managed."

He spins and gives Dionysus an enormous kiss.

Dionysus naturally kisses him back, just as enthusiastically. "I thought you might be bored of playing the same exact one all the time, so I convinced the mansion to make this for you a few weeks ago," he says when they part. "And since it's yours, if someone cheats you can just reset the high score whenever you want." Does Dionysus know how to reset the score on a pinball machine? Absolutely not. He's reasonably certain that's a thing you can do somehow though.

"You can reset them?"

"...Probably?"

A laugh and another kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," and he kisses him again.

He smiles around the kiss. "So. Do you want to watch me play?"

"Yes, obviously. Oh, wait, we should take it off of the dolly so it doesn't roll away. Help me lift it?"

"Of course." He goes to get in place.

Dionysus does as well. "Okay, on three. One, two, three," and as they lift it, he uses a last little bit of strength to have the vines shove the dolly away so they can set it back down on the ground. He hates this month.

"All right. Are you ready?"

"To watch you? Literally always."

His smile grows more than a bit mischievous as he promptly discards both waistcoat and shirt, tossing them on top of his forgotten dominoes on the pool table before taking his place at the pinball machine.

"Ooh, I've suddenly become a thousand percent more interested in pinball."

He is... watching...

"Only a thousand? I'll have to do better." He spends some time doing some utterly gratuitous stretches before starting the game up.

“Oh sorry, I must have temporarily forgotten how to speak French. I meant a billion percent.”

He laughs and launches his first ball. "That makes perfect sense. I temporarily forget how to speak French somewhat frequently."

“And here I was starting to think it was just Dark affecting my language skills,” he says, not taking his eyes off of the muscles in Grantaire’s back as he operates the game.

He grins as he plays, being relatively sedate in his play as he gets used to the quirks of the board. "I can also say you're frequently the cause of me temporarily forgetting how to speak French."

Innocently, “Oh, well, I can stop, if you want.”

"I don't recall asking you to."

“I mean I don’t want to inconvenience you, or anything.”

"Inconvenience is the absolute last word I would use to describe that."

“Oh?” He wraps his arms around Grantaire’s torso and kisses his back, between his shoulder blades. “Is it, now?”

"Oh yes." Grantaire leans back a bit against Dionysus. He promptly loses the ball but he doesn't care.

“Oh no, am I making you loose your game?” he asks genuinely.

"Oh, you're fine. I'm guaranteed to get the high score."

“You should teach me how to play pinball after you’re done setting the high score,” he says, clearly meaning it in a way that he doesn’t expect much actual learning to occur.

"Oh, you don't already know?"

He does. “I need a professional to show me what to do.”

"Wait, do I get paid for this now? Someone clearly forgot to inform me."

Dionysus sighs. “I’m too tired right now to make a bunch of gold coins for you, but just know I want to.”

"I appreciate the thought nonetheless."

“I’ll pay you tomorrow when I haven’t moved a pinball machine all around,” he laughs.

"I am completely willing to accept payment in a thousand sweet kisses."

Dionysus' face splits into a huge grin and he starts singing, "I've longed to discover something as true as this is. So with a thousand sweet kisses, if you're cold and you're lonely," he spins Grantaire around so he can kiss him, "With a thousand sweet kisses, you've got one nickel only," another kiss, "With a thousand sweet kisses, when you're worn out and tired," another kiss, "With a thousand sweet kisses, I'll cover you," another kiss, "Oh lover, I'll cover you, yeah, oh lover, I'll cover you..." And of course, another kiss.

It's all Grantaire can do not to burst into giggles during this cavalcade of musically-accompanied kisses. He slides his arms around Dionysus and gives him one more kiss.

"I love you," he says, practically hanging off of Grantaire.

"I love you too. Obviously."

"Sorry for distracting you from your game, you can get back to it if you want."

"Eh. It's not going anywhere." Another kiss.

He's certainly not going to say no to more kisses.

Oh good. Because in that case he's getting a few more, even.

Dionysus presses in very close, letting his hands wander. At a certain point he starts letting his lips wander too, leaving kisses and biting along Grantaire's neck and collarbones.

He laughs a little and stays put, launching the next pinball behind his back and deciding to randomly smack the paddle buttons and see how long that ball lasts. He's certainly enjoying himself a bit too much to actually turn around.

When Dionysus realizes what Grantaire is doing he also starts laughing, but it honestly just encourages him more, because now he also is curious about how long the game will last like this.

The answer is 'not terribly long', sad to say, although he does manage to rack up at least a few points from lucky contact before it falls again. "What a pity. I think I need a kiss to brighten my spirits."

"I think I can manage that," he says before kissing him again, as if he hasn't been continually kissing him for the past however many minutes.

"So accommodating." He returns to kissing Dionysus.

"You know me," another kiss, "always accommodating."

"How fortunate for me."

"It's what you deserve."

"Oh, yes, of course, just what I always say."

"It's what I always say."

"That is undeniably true."

"That's what I'm here for, to make sure you get things you deserve, so that you can sit back and not worry about it."

"That's a bit unwieldy to put after 'god of'."

"Not nearly as catchy as 'chalance'."

"I suppose you could shorten it to initials, but that would play havoc with the translation."

"We could just make up a whole new word for it, and then go around saying it to different people and see what the translator does with it."

"Oh, I love it. Did you have a word in mind?"

"Haven't gotten that far yet. Do you?"

"Not in the least!"

"I'm sure if we put our heads together we can come up with something." And by 'put their heads together' he means more kissing.

That demonstrably qualifies as putting their heads together, in quite a literal fashion. So he quite happily gives Dionysus a kiss.

"Hmm, I see a flaw in this plan," he says once they part.

"What's that?"

"It's really difficult to think up words if I'm kissing you."

"Sacrifice I'm willing to make." Another kiss.

"That's very noble of you."

"Oh yes," he says airily. "The most noble."

"And brave. I think such an act of heroism necessitates a reward."

"And here I thought I'd just been the recipient of several rewards."

"Those were your presents, that's different. What reward would you like?"

"I didn't mean the presents. I meant the kisses. Are they not reward enough?"

"Oh, I suppose so, if that's all you want..."

"Well, if there's more on offer... Maybe I should contemplate this while I actually play the third ball."

"Alright, but just so you know, I'm fully planning on being a distraction while you do that."

He winks. "I was hoping." And with that he gives Dionysus one more kiss and turns back to the game, launching the final ball.

True to his word, he does his best to be a distraction, pressing kisses all over Grantaire’s skin, as well as doing several other things that I’m not going to mention here involving some areas still covered by clothes.

And as a result and to nobody's surprise, the third and final ball really does not remain on the table for very long. He still gets the high score, though!

“Congratulations,” Dionysus whispers into his ear.

He laughs a bit breathlessly as he enters his 'R' for the high score list. "Perfect."

"Just like you!"

"Flatterer."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmhm. But I know, I know. Perfect for you."

"Exactly," he smiles, then catches Grantaire in another kiss.

He kisses back with a little smile. "I do learn eventually."

"Good. Everyone ought to know how special you are to me, including yourself." He hates that this month is affecting his powers so much. What he really wants to do right now is go in Grantaire's mind and let him feel exactly how loved he is, but even if he hadn't already exhausted himself today, he doesn't trust his weakened state enough to go messing around in someone's mind this month.

That would undoubtedly be more than a little bit overwhelming and possibly lead to tears, so it's almost better for Grantaire's dignity this way. "It's an honor."

Another kiss, and then, "Alright, you have to show me how to be good at pinball now."

"As luck would have it, you happen to be talking to the man with the high score."

“Oh wonderful, wonderful, I was hoping you’d be up to the task. I can be very hard to instruct at times, you know. I might need hours of careful study.”

Edited 2025-06-04 17:59 (UTC)

"Oh, hours, you say."

"Yes, I'm a very terrible student."

"Well, I'll be sure to work you as long and hard as needed."

"I'm starting to think it's my birthday instead," he laughs.

"Who knows? It might be!"

"You're not wrong, it definitely could be."

"Any good day can be your birthday."

"I'm not stealing yours though."

"If you say so. All right. Let's get to your... instruction."

"Of course of course. You'll have to help me get into position. I simply don't know what I'm doing at all here."

Oh, so we're actually doing this. "Of course." He gives Dionysus one quick kiss before taking him by the shoulders and moving him over to in front of the pinball machine.

"Ah yes, I can see how standing here would help me be better at the game."

"Exactly." He takes Dionysus's left hand and puts it on the front of the cabinet. "Right here is the button you push to turn on... the machine."

"Oh, well I am very good at turning things on by playing with their buttons, maybe there's hope for me yet."

"Prior experience. Excellent. How about playing with little balls?"

"Would you believe it, I've actually got a lot of experience with that too."

"That's fortunate! Press the start button and it will queue some up for you."

"Oh, a queue," he says with a grin, pressing the start button. "How efficient."

"Very. Not that it doesn't have the potential for chaos later." He then takes Dionysus's hand and puts it on the plunger. "Now that will launch your first ball. All you have to do is pull it back and let it go."

"I'm good at that sort of thing too, you know," he says before actually launching the ball.

"Then you should be a natural. Although if you ever want to practice, I'm certainly willing to assist." He moves Dionysus's hands up to the flipper buttons. "Now, you press these to work on keeping the ball going. Don't want it to slide away." He keeps his hands over Dionysus's to 'demonstrate'.

"Ah, yes, see, this is the part I have trouble with." You know, the entire actual game.

"All you have to do is pay attention," says Grantaire, as if even he finds paying attention easy most of the time. He keeps his hands over Dionysus's to play the game for the time being.

"I do, but it's hard to know exactly when to press the button to make the thingies move. The -- these things," he presses the button to make one of the flippers flip, demonstratively.

"It can be tricky. You get a feel for it after a while, though."

"Well, I don't think you've got to worry about me overtaking your high score any time soon," he laughs.

"Oh, you can overtake whatever you'd like. I won't worry."

“Oh can I, alright then.” The ball hits… something, that causes a bunch of lights and sound to go off. Dionysus has no clue what caused it or what it means but he assumes it’s probably a good thing. “It seems to agree.”

He laughs. "You're getting the hang of it already, it seems."

“The problem is I’m not sure what I did to cause that, or how to ever make it happen again.”

"It really doesn't matter that much. If you keep the ball from falling, good things end up happening and the score goes up."

"I like that you're not expecting me to put forth any sort of strategy or planning with this, only," he mashes the flipper buttons in lieu of using words to end that sentence. Of course, this has the unfortunate side effect of resulting in the ball falling down, rolling off the end of a flipper instead of bouncing back up. "Ah, damn..."

"I haven't played this one enough to know what strategy there is anyway."

"Probably not doing what I just did," he laughs, launching another ball.

He lets Dionysus's hands go and just wraps his arms around his waist. "Probably not, but you never know."

"The best tactic to win a game is to just fully lose the game quickly and then move on to something else, is that it?"

"That depends on how you define winning."

"Have you ever played Monopoly? It's a board game."

"No, I haven't."

“Monopoly is a game where you’re definitely winning if you lose quickly and get to stop playing the game,” he laughs.

"Oh, that tedious?"

“The point of the game is to buy squares that represent property with fake money, and then charge people rent if they land on your square. That’s it, that’s the whole game. And games last for hours.”

"Who wants to pretend to be a landlord?"

“Apparently a lot of people, at least they think they do. It’s a very popular game unfortunately.” Speaking of games, the pinball falls down between the flippers.

He watches the ball drop. "One left!"

"I'm going to try to actually do well this time," he says as he sends the last ball into play.

He promptly rests his chin on Dionysus's shoulder to watch.

He leans into Grantaire a bit, but does actually try to do well like he said. The ball bounces around for a little while until it shoots straight down, directly in the middle of the flippers where neither one can reach it to stop it from falling. "Oh hey, second place."

Grantaire laughs and turns his head to kiss Dionysus's cheek. "A valiant effort!"

"It is probably the longest game of pinball I've ever had." That's not saying much though.

"We'll put it down to my impeccable instruction."

"Oh, that goes without saying."

"Congratulations on second place."

"Is there a prize for second place?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can think of something."

"Did you have something in mind?" he asks, trailing his hands up Grantaire's torso to rest on his shoulders.

"Oh, I have an idea or two."

"I can't wait to find out what they are."

"Then let me just show you." He then proceeds to demonstrate a fair few of his ideas. If you know what I mean.

"I love you," he says breathlessly, pulling Grantaire up into a deep kiss.

A laugh. "I love you too."

"D'you want to play your game again, or shall we go find something else to do?"

"There will be plenty of time to play with it later."

"I wish it wasn't too cold for us to go on a walk outside together."

"We could try and steal away to the hot spring."

"We would have to go change into much different clothes. If you go outside like you're dressed now you'll freeze your nipples off."

"That's true. I do like my nipples."

"I like them too. Let's go grab your stuff from the kitchen then go change."

"My... Oh, yes! Good idea!"

Dionysus grabs Grantaire's discarded shirt and waistcoat with one hand, and with the other links a finger into the vine bracelet Grantaire is wearing to start leading him back to the kitchen.

"Useful handle." He grins and walks along.

"I thought so."

"All part of a clever plan!"

"You know me, full of clever plans." This is clearly a joke.

"You laugh, but I'm certainly not going to contradict you."

"That's a shame, usually when you're contradicting someone you talk at length, which is always nice to listen to."

"You see, though, I am contradicting you by not contradicting you, because you didn't mean the statement I was agreeing with."

"Hmm... I'm not convinced."

"What's not convincing you?"

"Whatever would result in you talking the most."

"Oh, I can happily talk about anything. It doesn't have to be your extraordinarily clever plans. Of which this is one, I should add."

"I just like hearing your voice, you know."

"Oh, I know. I could probably just say the same word a hundred times in a row and you would be just as delighted from start to finish."

"You'd probably get tired of it long before I did."

His eyebrows rise. That's a challenge if he's ever heard one. "Give me a word."

"Okay," Dionysus looks around before settling on, "Fenêtre."

"Windowgazing, are we? Very well." He clears his throat. "Fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre..."

Dionysus shifts from holding onto Grantaire's bracelet to holding his actual hand.

He twines his fingers with Dionysus's, his voice going a bit singsong. "Fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre..."

They reach the kitchen and Dionysus holds the door open for Grantaire.

"Fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre," Grantaire sweeps Dionysus a bow and walks through the doorway, "fenêtre, fenêtre..."

Dionysus gives Grantaire a kiss on the cheek and picks up the basket with his presents.

He smiles and continues. "Fenêtre. Fenêtre. Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre."

Dionysus briefly considers grabbing one of the bottles of wine he stocked this kitchen with on a previous day to take back to their room for later, and then immediately disregards that idea entirely. No matter how tired he is from making vines lug the pinball machine around earlier, the day he can't make a new bottle of wine is the day he ...dies or whatever. Not that he can die. But you get what he's meaning. Instead he squeezes Grantaire's hand and heads back out into the hall.

Grantaire squeezes Dionysus's hand back as he continues, playing with stresses. "Fenêtre. Fenêtre. Fenêtrefenêtrefenêtre."

It's really amazing how beautiful Grantaire's voice is. Once they're back in their room Dionysus flops onto the bed, on his tummy with his chin in his hands to keep listening.

He does a little spin next to the bed and starts to sing. "Feeeeeenêtre, fenêtre fen....être. Fenêtre, feeeeeenêtre."

"Oh well if you're going to sing it," Dionysus says before hopping up off the bed, wrapping his arms around the back of Grantaire's neck, and starts to dance with him.

Grantaire laughs. "Fenêtre?" Back to singing as he dances with Dionysus. "Fenêêêêêêêêtre, fenêtrefenêtrefenêtre...."

Dionysus rests his head on Grantaire's chest. He has absolutely no clue how many times Grantaire has said window by now. There's a distinct possibility he has already said it a hundred times.

It's thirty-five, but he hasn't been counting either. He's pretty sure he's not at a hundred yet, though, so he continues, wrapping his arms around Dionysus. "Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre..."

Dionysus shifts to take Grantaire's hand and lifts it to twirl him around. It's not the easiest thing, given their height difference, but it's not completely awkward at least.

He laughs and ducks his head just a bit as he twirls. "Fenêtre, feeeeeeenêtre, fenêtre fenêtre. Fe. Nêt. Re."

He catches Grantaire in a kiss, but it's a very short kiss as to not interrupt the fenêtre-ing.

Well, if we're going to do that... "Fenêtre." A kiss. "Fenêtre." Another kiss. "Fenêtre." Kiss. "Fenêtre." Yes, another kiss. "Fenêtre." And another one.

"Even better," Dionysus says when he gets a ...window... of opportunity.

"Fenêtre, fenêtre?" He grins. "Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre."

He goes back to snuggling up against Grantaire's chest, slowly rubbing his hands up and down Grantaire's back.

A happy little sigh. He almost wants to just curl up against Dionysus right now, but he's committed. "Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre."

There's nothing in the rules about not being allowed to snuggle on the bed while the windowening is happening, so Dionysus gently walks Grantaire over to it.

That sounds absolutely perfect. He goes along with Dionysus. "Fenêtre! Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre. Fenêtre."

Their bed has enough pillows (because of course it does) that when they lean against them they're half-laying half-sitting, and Dionysus wraps his arms around Grantaire big spoon style.

He leans back comfortably against Dionysus, tracing Dionysus's hands with his fingertips as he speaks softly. "Fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre, fenêtre..."

He sighs happily.

His smile widens just a bit. "Fenêtre, fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre.

As tired as he is from overextending himself today, and as peaceful as it is to just be lying here cuddled up and listening to the gentle sounds of Grantaire saying 'window' over and over again, Dionysus is aware he's in real danger of fully just falling asleep. He figures they're probably nearing 100 though, so it likely won't be going on for long enough for him to actually fall asleep. Right?

He's comfortable himself, but also bound and determined to get this done. He's not sure if he's actually made it or not, but erring on the side of caution is obviously the best move, so he continues lazily. "Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre."

Dionysus nuzzles into Grantaire's hair.

He yawns. "Fenêtre... fenêtre... fenêtre... fenêtre... fenêtre."

"Don't yawn, you're going to make me yawn too," he says before yawning.

An apologetic "Fenêtre," before he continues. "Fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre."

Dionysus presses a kiss into Grantaire's curls.

A soft, content hum. "Fenêtre, fenêtre fenêtre fenêtre, fenêtre.

Dionysus shifts his arms so he can hold Grantaire's hand.

Grantaire gives Dionysus's hand a little squeeze. "Fenêtre... fenêtre.... fenêtre..... fenêtre..." His words trail off as he dozes off himself.

Dionysus is about two seconds from sleep when he suddenly realizes something. "Love," he says, giving Grantaire a gentle nudge, "You're going to freeze if you sleep like this." 'Like this' meaning on top of the covers and nothing on his chest.

He startles back awake with a "Fenêtre." One more yawn. "Oh. Mm. You can be my blanket?"

"I can, but we should also get under the actual blankets. And I want to change as well."

A little sigh. "Fine."

Dionysus stays snuggled up for another long moment (wasn't it his idea to move in the first place?) before reluctantly untangling himself and standing up.

Grantaire stretches a little and otherwise remains put. "It's not that cold."

"Yes, but I'm a big baby about it anyway," he says with a laugh as he crosses to his jewelry armoire and starts taking his earrings out.

"That's perfectly fair." He props his head up on his hand, elbow on the bed, and watches Dionysus.

He gets his jewelry and crown off and properly stowed away, then fishes some pajamas out of a drawer. "Maybe tomorrow we can finally head up to the hot spring, since that's clearly not happening tonight."

He blinks, and then laughs after a moment. "Oh, right, we were going to be doing that."

"Yes, about a thousand windows ago," he laughs. "You sounded very lovely, by the way."

A laugh. "I'm flattered."

"What can I say, you've got a very good voice," he says as he starts to undo the sash holding his chiton in place. "Next time I'll have to find a phonebook and have you read from it. ...A phone book is a giant book full of everyone's name and the number you use to call their phones. ...A phone is a little device you can talk to people on even if you're really far away from each other, even on opposite sides of the Earth. I don't actually know if they make phone books anymore, come to think of it. Maybe that died out?"

He lounges comfortably and just watches. "Impossibly futuristic for me, either way."

"I think they were invented around 50 years or so after your time, so not too far off."

Grantaire lets out a little laugh. "So I could have seen them when I was ancient and doddering."

"Well who knows, maybe in 50 years we will finally get phones here, and you'll be able to see them when you're ancient and doddering anyway." He steps over to give Grantaire a kiss.

"Perfect." He kisses Dionysus back. "As long as we don't also get the plucked chicken."

"Oh yes, that would clearly be dreadful," he laughs, and pulls the chiton off, folding it up neatly before grabbing the pajamas. "You're going to be such a cute old man, I bet."

"You're biased. But I suppose we'll see."

“So what if I’m biased?” he says playfully, pulling on the pajamas. “Doesn’t make the statement less true. You were a cute kid, you’re cute now, you’ll be cute when you’re older.”

"Truly the highest compliment. It delights me to hear you say so."

What delights Dionysus is hearing Grantaire able to accept a compliment. He's getting so much better at it. Dionysus does realize that Grantaire hasn't actually moved from the bed, so he grabs another set of pajamas, and tosses them over. Sleeping in regular normal trousers just sounds so incredibly uncomfortable. "Here, love."

"Oh! Thank you." He still doesn't want to leave the bed, so he shimmies around as best he can to change.

Dionysus crawls back onto the bed himself now, moving extra pillows out of the way before he gets under the covers and scoots over to be ready for snuggles as soon as Grantaire is done changing.

It's a bit awkward, but that's not about to stop him. He manages to get into the pajamas, tossing his trousers across the room before nestling up to Dionysus with a happy sigh.

Dionysus wraps his arms around Grantaire. "See, that's better," he says before giving him a warm kiss.

"Mm." He kisses back, content, and then settles comfortably into Dionysus's arms. "Love you," he says, warm and happy. "Marry me," he adds, unthinking.

His eyes widen.

Dionysus stops breathing for a moment, staring at Étienne, in shock at the suddenness. "Yes -- of course -- okay -- yes --" he says, as soon as he's able to speak again. "Are -- are you sure?"

"I..." He's honestly no less surprised by it than Dionysus is. Possibly more. "I didn't think about it. At all. So I must be."

There's a half million thoughts swirling around in Dionysus's head right now, but before he can even begin to untangle any of them, he kisses Grantaire again and starts crying.

Grantaire kisses back, of course, and reaches up to brush Dionysus's tears away with a thumb.

"I love you," he says between kisses.

"I love you too." It's about as earnest as he ever gets. "So much."

He goes back to kissing, and then asks, "When?" as his thoughts start to very slowly untangle themselves.

"I..." He pauses. He has absolutely no idea. Maybe he would have if he'd planned on asking at any point, but he didn't. He's not upset that he did, but he has very little idea of what the next steps could possibly be. "... After Dark?"

"Oh -- oh yes, definitely after Dark, I can't -- I want to make you a crown, and make us rings, and I want them to look good, so -- so definitely after Dark." Nothing bad will probably happen between now and then, right? It's not going to be -- to be another situation like happened with Ampelos, right?

He's fairly sure of where Dionysus's thoughts are going to wander at that. He squeezes him. "If you want me to say safe in this bed until it's time, I'm perfectly willing."

“No no, you don’t have to stay in bed,” he says. “I’ll just find some more bubble wrap and wrap you up in that.” This is an attempt at a joke.

"Ah, see, a perfect solution." He gives Dionysus a kiss. "Don't worry. I'm sure the spirits want to see this almost as much as we do."

He smiles and starts running his fingers through Étienne’s hair. “So — d’you want a big formal event like Claudius and Galahad had? Or… or something else? Oh, ooh, how do you feel about seeing if Claudius wants to officiate?”

"Oh, he'd enjoy that." A little laugh. "Maybe not quite as formal? Something Sunny won't be as bored by, so she isn't put off of weddings forever."

“Right, so, regular wedding, but in the bouncy room, got it.”

He’s joking but Sunny would actually really enjoy that.

"Oh yes. Obviously the simplest way to go about it."

He pauses, then says, “If we wait a little bit longer it can be warm enough to have it outside in my vineyard.”

Edited 2025-06-18 19:44 (UTC)

"Oh. Yes, that sounds perfect."

He kisses Étienne again, then starts smiling around the kiss, which turns into delighted giggles. “We’re going to get married.”

He can't help but laugh in response to Dionysus's giggling. "Happy birthday to me?"

"One two three, one two three, one two three four. This is the new song we sing for birthdays. Bouncy and merry and not quite as scary, the new birthday song..."

"So how many birthday songs do you know?"

"Do you mean songs about it being someone's birthday, or songs you sing to someone on their birthday?"

"Oh, either!"

"A lot."

"Good. There will be plenty of birthdays to go through."

A kiss. “And if I run out of songs I’ll just start making some up.”

"I'll look forward to hearing them, then."

He had stopped crying, but now he starts up again. “I love you so much.”

A little smile and he gives Dionysus a kiss. "I love you too."

"Grantaire," says Susan, hovering at the door.

He looks up and grins. "The one and only! Or at least the one and only that's here as there are rather demonstrably other Grantaires that exist, but that's beside the point! Hello!"

"I understand that it's your birthday today."

"More or less, I suppose. Or at least given the common calendar translation. By my personal reckoning, it would be in another four months or so, but I do understand that everyone keeping their own would be a bit chaotic."

"Ah. I see you've also been struck by a calendar mismatch."

"I have. Jumped from the beginning of June to the end of October."

"So precise! I came from April to autumn."

"I did miss an entire summer. Something about that seems unfair."

"How perfectly dreadful," commiseratingly. Susan steps into the room. "In any event, I've got gifts."

He blinks in surprise. "Oh! Thank you, but you didn't have to. I know things are hard to come by right now."

"That's precisely why I've got them."

"Far be it from me to turn them down, then." He hops up to sit on the edge of the table, which of course sends the dominoes tumbling. Oh well.

"I'm afraid it isn't much, but I did set it aside for this." Susan hands him a basket. Inside is a bottle of very nice wine, another of brandy, a wheel of soft-ripened goats-milk cheese from southern France that she hopes very much is from the correct region, a crusty bread she'd baked that morning, and the queerest little object she found whilst inventorying one of the new closets on the third floor. It had been in a large box marked fidget spinners. Most of these she'd set aside before dark, knowing - based on the various surveys she's administered to the populace here - the timing of his birthday and his preferred foods.

He digs through the basket, smiling at each item. "No, this is wonderful! More than I would be expecting even if it weren't Dark." He pulls out the fidget spinner and looks at it curiously. "What's this?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

He plays around with it a little. "Neither do I, but I like it anyway."

"It did seem the sort of thing that might suit you."

"I agree." He gets a decent spin on it. "Oh, marvelous!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do. Thank you for... all of this, really."

"Well, when I realized your birthday coincided with Dark, I couldn't very well not set something aside." Because she's Susan, her tone sounds slightly scolding.

"Truly the mansion's mistress of foresight. I commend you."

"I'm pleased you like it."

"I'd say again that you didn't have to, but I'm sure you already know that and decided to do it anyway. So instead I'll say... would you like to share some of my spoils?"

Susan hesitates for a moment. "If you're certain you'd like to share."

"Of course I am! Bread, cheese, and wine are all infinitely better when shared."

"Well, then. I shan't take much convincing."

"Kitchen down the hall, then? Actual dishes would probably be better to eat from."

"If you insist," with a slight smile.

"Oh, I rarely insist on anything. We could eat off of a chessboard instead, but wineglasses may be slightly harder to come by."

"I've never had a problem with drinking straight from the bottle," says Susan, "but I suppose we might as well be civilized."

He pulls out the bottle of wine and wiggles it demonstrably. "I can still grab a chessboard."

Susan laughs, briefly but genuinely. "Perhaps a plate is in order," she says, and adds, hopefully, "I shouldn't want food to get in the way of a rousing chess match."

"I suppose that makes sense," he says with an exaggerated sigh. "Under most circumstances, I would trust the mansion's capability of providing another chessboard, but this is certainly not most situations. Chess and snacks, then?"

"That sounds ever so lovely," Susan says, venturing a smile.

"Excellent. I can go grab some dishes, then."

"Perfect."

"If you'd like, you can set the board while I'm gone. If not, also fine." He darts out of the room to go get some plates.

The problem with Grantaire, Susan thinks as she starts to set up the board, is that he ought to stand more firmly upon his convictions and more clearly express his preferences. It's awfully hard to get a read on him when he's so obliging. Naturally that sort of biddability can be appealing in certain contexts, but perhaps the reason she's struggled to get to know him better is because he doesn't often express a position upon which she can hinge her understanding.

Naturally, she shan't let this stop her.

He returns forthwith with a couple of plates in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other which he holds up. "Optional. In case we change our mind on the bottle. I have a few napkins in my pocket, too."

"Oh, clever," says Susan approvingly. "I expect you've fetched a corkscrew as well?"

He sets down the glasses with a little laugh and pulls the napkins out of his pocket, folded around a corkscrew. "It's safe to say in general that I want to get into the wine, yes."

"Very good."

He shrugs with a little smile. "It was simple enough, but thank you."

Look, Susan is willing to try out different approaches to make in-roads with people she isn't as close with: "Accept the compliment, you silly man," lightly.

"Ah, yes. Right. Thank you." His smile grows the faintest bit wry. "All present evidence to the contrary, I really am getting much better at accepting compliments."

Naturally Susan, who is not given to tests whatsoever, immediately tests this. "Ah! Well done."

He laughs a little. Obviously it's a prompt for a demonstration. "Oh, thank you. It's been a process."

"I imagine it must be."

"I suppose that after all my old reliable tricks to wriggle out of the way largely stopped working, I had to start adapting."

"What's all this, what art thou up to?" By now he's fully recovered from his Dark-induced fever, and he pokes his head in curiously.

He looks up and waves. "Hello! I'm doing the little domino tricks that my other self did when he was here."

"Oh, that's right! I remember that." Vaguely.

"Precisely!" He goes back to adding dominoes to the array. "So in honor of maybe his birthday, here I am."

"Maybe his? Thine, thou meanst."

"By at least one reckoning. And by extension maybe his!"

"And yet whither thy cake? I had cakes inflicted on me."

"I think they're just as subject to Dark as anything else."

"What a depressing thought. I'm going to make thee a cake. What wouldst thou have?"

"First, you really don't have to. Second, under the assumption that you're then going to insist, I'm not going to be particular now of all months, so whatever you can muster up would be lovely."

"Thee of little faith! I have everything we need at the house. And since thou carest not what kind of cake, I'll draw it from our game."

Now there's a challenge if he ever heard one. "Perfect. Do that."

"Marvelous. Take a jaunt with me for a moment, we need the jars."

He straightens, dominoes forgotten. "Perfect! Let's jaunt!"

As they take off, Sagramore asks, "How have you been holding up?"

"Oh, with Dark? Knowing it was coming made for a definite improvement, at least."

"And Dionysus has been keeping you well?"

Fondly, "Oh, he always does. But yes, we stocked up a good amount in advance, which is good because it's more exhausting for him to use his powers now, so I don't want to put too much strain on him."

A faint frown. "I don't think I knew that. Is he all right?"

He nods. "He's all right. A bit more tired at the end of the day than usual, but it could be worse."

"Christ, all right, I won't ask him for anything."

"He still loves helping when he can, so I don't think you have to swear it off entirely if something comes up. I think he prefers to be a bit tired over feeling completely useless."

"I suppose that stands to reason. He has such a soft heart." His tone makes it clear this is a compliment.

“He does." A little smile. "It suits him."

"Everything suits him." And then, as it occurs to him, "Didst thou know he had no idea how Laertes lusts for his body?"

"Oh? That's silly of him."

"That's the whole reason I was learning to sculpt!" sounding genuinely a little surprised at unlocking this long-forgotten memory. "So i could make him some voluptuous statues!"

"What? Visible sculptures?!"

"I know, I know, it's a completely different art form."

"Remarkable! What are the similarities and differences?"

"It's a hell of a lot harder, for one thing."

He laughs. "It makes sense. You're such a natural at invisible sculpture that most anything would be."

"I am! I'm really a savant."

"Handsome and a prodigy! Truly a marvel!"

Sagramore affects preening. "I accept thy roses."

"Wonderful. If you hadn't, I'd be bereft."

"I know. Thou art a wilting flower, easily bruised."

"Oh, yes, absolutely how I'd describe myself, no question."

"Oh, I'm aware, that's why I said it."

He laughs. "Of course, now I'm preoccupied with wondering what kind of flower I am."

"Claudius will have an opinion."

"Claudius would have a detailed explanation with citations from well-known treatises in botany."

"Oh, obviously. Ask him next time thou encounterest him."

"I should. Or maybe I'll just save it until I want to distract him with a new shiny toy to play with."

"What! Wherefore needst thou distract him? Will he bear down on thee like a hungry hound after a hare?"

"I have no idea! But you never know! It might be useful!"

"Oh, everything might be useful, mightn't it?"

"True. It all depends on where my whims take me."

"Everything thou dost dependable on where thy whims take thee."

"I have very good whims. Quite compelling."

"Oh, I've experienced them firsthand."

"Quite a variety of them, too."

"I have no aspersions to cast on thy whims. I find them enchanting."

"Now, historically, some have worked out better than others."

"Undeniable."

"Probably the case with most people, come to think of it. Imagine someone who, for good or ill, had all their whims work out exactly as well as every other one."

"Ugh, what an idea. Imagine how many animals there'd be in this place if I could have every dog and duck and horse my thoughts conjured up."

"You'd have no time to do anything else but care for them."

"What a horrifying thought. When would I ever get to make love?"

"Better for everyone that all your whims don't come true, then. Even if all the animals would adore you."

Sagramore laughs. "The benevolent patriarch of the beasts."

"Exactly, oh grand patriarch."

"I can think of worse fates, to be sure."

"Undoubtedly. Also better ones, to be sure, but there would be a certain charm to it."

Edited 2025-06-02 15:58 (UTC)

"Very pastoral, thinkst thou not? Another subject for an art."

"It could easily be pastoral, yes. I could see such a work going several different directions depending on the desired mood."

"Oh? What else hast thou got in mind?"

"Oh, there are a few. Something comedic, with you drowning in animal care, surrounded by more animals than can comfortably fit on a canvas. Or something more starkly realistic instead of soft and pastoral, illustrating that it's hard work too. Or even something hearkening to biblical stories, like Adam naming the animals or Noah and the ark. Or there's the option of portraying you in place of St. Francis and his animals, a counterpoint to another saint's iconography being hijacked in another piece I'm working on."

"Oh, what art thou working on?"

"A portrait of your husband that I think you'll find yourself fond of."

"Christ, what a temptingly vague answer! I always find myself fond of portraits of my husband."

"Oh, of course it's vague. I don't want to give it away before you see it in all its glory."

"I hate thee," fondly.

"Of course. And that's why you are about to make me an almost certainly terrible cake."

"Bite thy tongue, it'll be delightful!"

"Oh, I never said it wouldn't be delightful."

"Thou just said it would be terrible!"

"I have every expectation that it will be both. It will be terrible, and that will be delightful."

"Interesting. Wilt thou eat it?"

"Of course I will. At least a slice."

"And wilt thou compliment me?"

"Obviously."

"And tell me what a good and kind master I am?" he teases.

"If you don't already know that, certainly."

"I want to hear my good pup say it."

"You're a very good and kind master."

Sagramore pulls to a stop and kisses him before starting off again. "We must be almost to the kitchens. Christ, I haven't lived here in too long."

He nods. "Just around the next corner."

"Good. I'm too lazy for this sort of thing."

"Whatever you say." One more turn and they arrive at the kitchen.

"Ah, there we are! Everything we need! Provided by the spirits." And there are five jars, too, filled with paper slips.

He looks them over. "... New ones?"

"They know! They're looking out for us."

"But this month? How?"

"Obviously it's the significance of the anniversary. Wouldst thou like to draw or wilt thou put thy fate entirely in my hands?"

"I leave it to your capable hands."

"Very well."

With a little flourish of his hands, Sagramore closes his eyes and draws five pieces of paper, one from each jar. Then, affecting a dramatic tone, he reads, "Glacé cherries. Crusty bread. White chocolate chips. Dried oregano. Mayonnaise."¹

¹Thanks, Random Ingredient Generator!

He thinks over that list for a moment. "... That might actually be pretty good."

"See! Benevolence. The spirits like thee. I think we're doing very well."

"The oregano is the only thing that gives me pause, but I think you can somehow make it work."

"Well, they never said how much oregano I need to use."

"That's true! You can be discerning!"

"Especially when I want to impress someone."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

"Always."

"Shouldn't be too difficult. You usually do."

"Well, thou hast not had thy cake yet. Let's see, canst thou find me flour, sugar, cocoa powder, leavening, and a loaf of stale bread?"

"We'll see how well the kitchen accommodates me." He heads to start rooting through the cabinets.

Sagramore, meanwhile, goes for mayonnaise and white chocolate chips, and vanilla; he does trust that the ingredients from the jars, at minimum, will be easy to find.

The loaf of stale bread is, at least, fairly easy to come by, and after a bit more digging, Grantaire does in fact find the rest of the ingredients. Although none of them come in full packages, the quantities left should at least be sufficient for Sagramore's purposes.

"Good dog," Sagramore says, fondly. "How old art thou turning?"

"Oh." He thinks it over, not having really considered it. "Twenty-nine, I think? I was born in '05, came here in '32, and this is my second birthday here, so I think that adds up."

"Jesu, thou art such a babe. Twenty-nine cherries, then."

"Oh, yes, practically an infant."

"Grate that bread for me, little one."

"Ah, the responsibility!" He tracks down a grater and starts in on the bread.

"Last year I gave thee Jared, didn't I? That's going to be hard to top."

He laughs. "You did. I have to remember where I left him last."

"What's he wearing now?"

"I found a mermaid costume, so that. Maybe when I track him down again, I should have Kade make something bespoke."

"Oh, that does sound fetching! And Kade always likes a project."

"It would fit him better than anything he's ever worn."

"It must be hard to choose outfits for a man who's so slender."

"It's tricky! It needs a bit of trial and error but I've managed so far and haven't heard a word of complaint from him."

"Well, good, he should be grateful thou takest the time to be certain he's properly arrayed!"

"I'm sure he is. He hasn't thanked me outright, but he's a reticent man."

"That's true, he's shy."

"Which is fine. I'm perfectly able to speak enough for the both of us."

"Dost thou find thou knowst what words he would speak if he could? Oracularly?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he keeps himself silent for his own good, as he knows otherwise he'd give into his worst impulses. Like, say, harrassing shop workers for not treating him like an emperor. He knows he's better off being quiet and not terribly rude."

"Jesu, we don't need anyone who behaves like that! I'm so grateful for his self-control."

"I'm very proud of him."

"As thou shouldst be. It must be somewhat trying for him to have to rely on someone else all the time."

"I can only imagine."

"And yet it does sound as though thou hast misplaced him."

"Left him to his own devices for a bit!"

"Oh! Building his confidence with a little freedom?"

"Exactly. Letting him stretch his wings."

"Thou art a good father."

He wrinkles his nose. "Older brother at best."

"Convince me."

"That I'm not Jared's father?"

"That's right. I want thy most compelling argument."

"First, no family resemblance whatsoever. Second, I'm grossly irresponsible. Third, I think the mansion itself may be his mother and I haven't even taken it out to dinner."

"Not a one of those things precludes a man from becoming a father. Hast thou not met my children?"

"Of course I have. But you're exceptionally suited for fatherhood."

"Yes, but being suited or unsuited rarely has an impact on the reality."

"That much I certainly can't argue."

"Do another argument, I'm still convinceable."

"It's difficult to be a father to something that's not actually alive?"

"Now that I do find somewhat compelling. Continue."

"Now, the actual Jared that the picture is of undoubtedly has a father, but I'm also fairly sure I'm far too young to be that father."

"An intriguing proposition."

"Therefore, not me!"

"Oh, it's ipso facto, is it?"

"It would have to be."

"I don't actually know the meaning of the phrase," Sagramore admits; he's begun combining ingredients by now.

"'By the fact itself'. An inevitability of the premise."

"So it's a bit recursive of me."

"Sometimes that's what's needed."

Sagramore laughs. "Is it? Or art thou placating me?"

"Sir, when have you ever known me to be placating?"

"As opposed to argumentative? I've known it to happen."

"There's quite a spectrum between argumentative and placating."

"How wouldst thou describe what thou didst, then?"

"I would call it agreeing with you. Perhaps affirming."

"Affirming does sound very pleasant."

"I have my moments of pleasantness."

"Let me see thy tongue, pup."

"Let me know if it's grown spots." He promptly sticks his tongue out.

"Looks all right. Bite it now for me."

He's now impossibly curious as to where this is going. He bites down on his tongue, firmly but not painfully.

"Good. Do that whenever thou thinkst to tell me thou hast moments of pleasantness."

"Oh, now! I said nothing about quantity or frequency. I also have moments of talking!"

"And I find them very pleasant, as it happens."

"Which I'm quite grateful for, as what is pleasant is notoriously subjective."

"Thou art slippery, my sweet."

"As an eel." He seems quite happy to say so, although he can't resist one addition. "In some moments, anyway."

"Beloved eel. Most dear little fish." Sagramore lunges for him.

Grantaire makes a halfhearted token attempt to wriggle eelishly out of the way of the lunge.

It's half-hearted enough that Sagramore catches him easily and pulls him into his arms, pressing kisses to his pile of curls.

He laughs. "Clearly I'm not quite slippery enough."

"Some other, less slimy fish."

"A scaly one, then."

"A mermaid."

He laughs. "I did not expect that answer."

"Scaly, fast, charming -- I'm really making things up, but humor me."

"I have the sudden urge to go sit on a rock and sing sailors to their doom."

"Kade could make thee a tail!"

"He could! Or I could steal Jared's. Whenever I find him."

"Oh, that must have been what put it in my head! I do think thou wouldst be far fairer than Jared."

"He would be a flatfish mermaid."

"A flounder!"

"Both eyes on one side and everything."

"My God. That's so good. He does stay in one spot and lurk, too."

"Jared the flounder. It's perfect."

"But thee -- art thou an eel-maid? Is that the fish that makes up thy tail?"

"I do like a clever eel but then we return to contemplating my slime or lack thereof. An octopus also comes to mind but I think that might be straying from the general conceit of a mermaid, as they are not fish."

"They're fish! Why wouldn't they be fish?"

"They are not fish! They are, in fact, closer to snails."

"Mermaids are snails? Thou'rt laughing at me, this isn't true."

"Octopuses are snails! Mermaids are fish! Or, at least, half fish."

"That's even more ridiculous. Octopuses look nothing like snails."

"I know! But they are nevertheless cousins somehow! Think of the nautilus, which looks like an octopus with a shell, so it's another cousin in the middle of them."

"I've never heard of a nautilus."

"Ah! In lieu, then, of dragging you to the library and probably not finding anything on account of the season, imagine what looks like a snail shell, with little octopus arms and eyes poking out of the end."

"I have no imagination, I can't envision it. Canst thou draw me one?"

"Certainly I can!" He looks around for something to draw with.

Sagramore, reluctantly, lets him go and returns to the cake situation -- he remembers to pre-heat the oven, and while that's going on he starts spooning batter into pans.

Grantaire roots through a few drawers and, the season being what it is, comes up with a CVS receipt and a dull half-used crayon in the color 'Mauvelous'. Beggars can't be choosers in Dark, though, so he flips the receipt over and leans over the counter to draw over the return policy.

After a few moments, the pans are ready to go into the oven; Sagramore begins dumping the dishes into the sink, where he's probably going to forget about them.

Which is fine, because Grantaire certainly won't be remembering them either, and at that point, they don't exist anymore. He looks up with a smile. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Please! Let me see thy masterpiece."

Grantaire holds up the picture. Undoubtedly, experts would be able to find errors, but he has managed to produce as creditable a drawing of a nautilus as a non-expert can create with a crayon on the back of a receipt. At the very least, the basic principles are displayed.

Sagramore puts on his reading glasses and peers at it before demanding, "Thou'rt telling me this is a real creature?"

"It is! People often carve their shells to make decorations."

"What a mysterious place the future is!"

Edited 2025-06-09 19:40 (UTC)

"It is somewhat amazing that the more people learn, the more there somehow is left to learn. The history of humanity is a long string of learning just how ignorant we are."

"This does improve my outlook on being an idiot."

"Oh, we're all idiots. Even the smartest person who's ever lived is an idiot."

"What's thy reasoning?"

"There is the base of the uncountable mass of things that have yet to be learned or discovered by anyone, leaving a vast quantity of knowledge that even the smartest person ever couldn't possibly know, but then add on the individual things that any given person, even the smartest one, just happens to not know, whether they forgot about it or they never learned or even having it slip their mind for a moment... every single human who has ever lived is ignorant of so many more things than they were aware of."

"Wise, wise words, even speaking relatively!" Sagramore applauds just as the oven chirps about being preheated.

"Like Socrates, knowing only that he knew nothing." He glances at the oven. "Oh, it's ready!"

"Oh, quick, put the cake in! Let's say thirty minutes to start."

"Right away!" He promptly goes over, opens the oven, and pops the cake in, closing the oven door behind him.

"Beautiful." He pauses. "It's fairly dense. We'll see whether half an hour really does it."

"Oh no. The prospect of having to wait slightly longer for a surprise cake. How terrifying."

"So sayst thou now, when thou hast not yet had to do any waiting."

"I've had to do some waiting, or there would have been a cake just sitting here when we arrived."

"Wrong. Before thou wert admiring me while I toiled on thy behalf."

"I won't deny that, but even as I was doing that, I was waiting for cake. Unless you mean to suggest we will be doing nothing for the next half an hour aside from waiting and possibly staring at the oven."

Sagramore blinks, as if astonished. "Well, obviously. What else would we be doing?"

Absolutely anything else is what he's about to say before he abruptly switches tactics. "Oh, all right then." He straightens, promptly turning to stare fixedly at the oven.

Sagramore immediately posts up beside him, affecting his own attentive posture, silent and focused.

Grantaire takes in the details of the oven for a bit, finding at least something to focus on, and fully intending to shift to singing songs in his head once that gets tedious. He only needs to outlast Sagramore.

For his part, Sagramore contemplates what to make for dinner tonight and whether he should invite over Susan and Lancelot, which leads to whether Lancelot knows it's Grantaire's birthday, to when Lancelot's birthday is, to what sort of cake Lancelot would like, to whether he has a sweet tooth like Laertes, to Laertes and how handsome he looked this morning as he helped Sunny get ready to go out with Magnus, to how grown up Sunny is getting--

"She's really gotten so big, hasn't she?" he remarks to Grantaire.

He's on a loop through
"I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General", convinced he's switching some of the lines, when it's brought to a halt from Sagramore's question. Thankfully, there's only one person who he could be referring to. "Sunny? Oh, very."

"She must be almost three by now, dost thou not think?"

He thinks it over. "Probably? I suppose it depends on what years you use but I am not the person to ask to do calculations."

"I don't actually have any idea how much time has passed since she got here," Sagramore confesses.

"A year or so, I think? In regular reckoning. The year's longer here and I want to say it was spring when she arrived."

"Only a year? Art thou serious?"

"Close to it, I think."

"Time is obscene."

"That sounds right, yes."

"I don't like it! It shouldn't pass like this."

"It passes every other way it wants, whether we like it or not. Time's strange. Always has been."

"Well, I think you should give it a stern talking-to."

"Ah, let me see. Time, you need to do better, you cannot be trusted. You're a thief and you need improvement!"

"Go on. Really dress it down!"

He continues. "You're unreliable, you're either vanishing with no warning or staying around for far too long unwanted, you're disruptive, you're not remotely to be trusted."

"That's exactly right!"

"That did sound somewhat familiar, if I'm being honest."

"Wait, why?"

He shrugs. "Time seems to display a lot of the same qualities I've heard about extensively."

"Etienne," shortly, as he frowns. "I can see I've done a poor thing of training you."

"No, not at all! I'm talking about before, not here. It just struck me, is all, and then you asked."

Sagramore swallows down his sudden surge of anger at Enjolras and all Grantaire's other horrid supposed friends, and nods instead. "And thou knowst better to speak such things of thyself."

Grantaire nods back. He knows he's less annoying than he used to be. "Yes. My tongue can remain unbitten."

Edited 2025-06-13 20:56 (UTC)

"Good pup. I'm pleased with thee."

At that, he gives a sheepish little shrug. "Thanks."

Well, then, now they're back to... waiting. Cursed. Sagramore stares reproachfully at the oven.

Grantaire leans against the counter and sighs. "Surely a half an hour can't be this long."

"I really don't understand it," plaintively.

"Surely nobody does."

"Wouldst think with all this magic we'd have invented faster means by now."

"Can you use the microwave for cakes? That cooks fast."

"Huh," Sagramore says. "I've never tried cooking in the microwave. That's a good idea. We could do one in there and leave one in the oven."

"Maybe a smaller one because there's not as much space."

"Good thinking."

Sagramore opens the oven and reaches in for one of the metal cake pans, which immediately leads to his fingers being burnt, because he's forgotten to grab an oven mitt first; he mutters fuck. He knows from helping Laertes bake that there's a risk of the cakes falling if the oven door stays open too long, so as quickly as he can he snatches a dish towel and pulls the pan out and onto the counter.

"Oh! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Damn, that was hot! Open the microwave for me, wilt thou?"

He nods and walks over to the microwave and hits the button to pop it open.

Sagramore slides the pan inside. "How long, dost thou think? Five minutes?"

"Worth a try. We can always put it in for longer if it's not enough."

"That's a good point. All right." He programs the microwave, turns it on, and stands back.

It is... just like microwaving anything else.

They will be learning no important lessons today. "One almost wonders why people bother with ovens when this exists."

"I have no idea! I suppose there might be some difference in the final product, but even so."

"Surely the convenience must outweigh whatever slight difference there is."

"One would think! I really don't understand it."

"I think it just distills to the fact that people are strange and if you think about it too long, you'll tie your brain in knots."

"Oh, is that the answer? Idiosyncracy?"

"Accounts for by far most of human history. Why not this too?"

"That's a fair point. We're an inexplicable race."

"An inexplicable race that continues to inexplicably attempt to explain itself."

"Isn't that what we're all doing, really? Making excuses?"

"I can't say you're wrong, thinking about it."

"Making excuses and waiting for cake," with a sigh.

"At least eating the fast cake will take up a lot of the waiting time for the slow cake."

"I hope it's not too sweet," he muses, just as the microwave dings.

"I can think of a good way to find out!" He goes and hits the button to open the microwave door.

The cake is suspiciously spongy and wobbly when Sagramore turns it out on the cooling rack, but it smells chocolatey, too. He places fifteen cherries on the top and then shakes oregano flakes over that. "There!"

"It looks delicious. You're truly a master of random ingredients."

"My thanks." A sweeping bow. "Wouldst thou do the honors?"

"Of course." He grabs a knife and goes to cut a slice. He pauses fairly quickly. "This doesn't... feel quite right."

"How not right?"

"It... Come feel this. It doesn't feel sponge-y in the same way as a regular cake. It's almost like rubber?"

Edited 2025-06-16 22:02 (UTC)

Sagramore approaches, frowning, and as soon as he can squishes the cake with one finger. "Interesting. That's not quite what I expected."

"Ah well. Try nothing, get nothing." He cuts a piece of the cake and somehow manages to maneuver splooping it onto a plate before going to grab a fork.

"That's right, we've been brave enough to drink everything we've made, we can't disdain eating. I'll try after thee."

He grabs, in fact, two forks and hands one to Sagramore. "We can go together." He gets a bite from the slace on his own fork with a grin.

"That's so ominous," as he takes his own forkful.

He holds up his fork, the bite of cake wobbling a bit on it, and pops it into his mouth.

Sagramore follows suit. The cake is... not good, texturally. Flavor-wise, it's not bad -- it's chocolatey and dense, the oregano is barely noticeable, and the cherries are perfectly fine -- but the cake is both wet and rubbery, yielding and a little creamy, like the most unfortunate steamed pudding in the world.

He chews slowly. "It's. It tastes good! But I think we've discovered why they still have ovens."

"Perhaps we're not actually geniuses."

"It's all in the spirit of scientific inquiry." He takes another bite. No, he doesn't know why.

"So we're still geniuses, it's just in the things we've learned by failing."

"Precisely. Experience is the greatest teacher."

"Paint that on the wall of the café."

"Do you think? It's a bit trite..."

"Aren't all wise things a bit trite?"

"That says quite a bit about the wise. But you're right! It will go on the wall." He looks at the cake. "Perhaps alongside a picture of that."

"Yes! Immortalize it."

"I will! It's quite critical to, as it's clearly one of the most important cakes in history."

"It's certainly... significant."

"Yes. As any of the most important cakes in history naturally would be."

"I wonder if Xie Lian would like it."

"Truly, I would not be surprised."

Sagramore affects a position of prayer, fork in his clasped hands. "O mansion spirits, send him to us--"

Enjolras, contrary to some people's beliefs; does in fact pay attention to the calendar. It may be a strange calendar with months all out of joint, but he has been here over a year now, and with time comes familiarity. So, noting that Grantaire's birthday fell during Dark, he had planned ahead. It had taken some searching until he had found Grantaire's haunt, but he knocks on the door-sill, package in hand.

"That looks...complicated."

He looks up at the door and brightens. "Enjolras!" He gestures to the array. "It may look complicated, but it's actually quite simple. Much like myself."

"So I see." He heads further into the room to inspect, smiling a little. "In the spirit of making things that are aesthetically pleasing, I have something for you. --Of course, it is also due to the date."

"You are aesthetically pleasing," he replies basically automatically. "... Or, rather, you didn't have to, but thank you."

"Are you implying you are not?" He raises an eyebrow. "It is your birthday. Of course I was going to bring you something." It is customary, after all; even if the birthday is not in the proper season.

"I made no implications whatsoever, simply stated facts. That said, I still wasn't expecting it, but I appreciate it."

"Why would you not expect it?"

"You know as well as I do that back home, presents on birthdays were mostly for kids."

He shrugs, and offers the package -- inside it, Grantaire will find a fine set of pastels and a notebook, whenever he chooses to open it. "Yes, but that is at home."

"Excellent argument. I expect nothing less." He unwraps the package now and smiles. "Oh, they're lovely."

“I am certain you will put them to good use.”

He shoots Enjolras a wry smile. "Look at that, I can be useful from time to time."

Edited 2025-05-30 16:40 (UTC)

"That was...in incredibly different circumstances."

"I am very aware, don't worry."

"I...may have spoken rashly, however, under those circumstances. I apologise."

"No apologies needed. Under those circumstances, I probably deserved it more than not."

"I am not taking it back, so very well."

"If you insist."

"I do." There's a small, almost shy smile.

A smile back, just a bit bigger. "Far be it from me to gainsay you, I suppose."

Open Post: Who invented this calendar anyway?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject