[oh, Idia recognizes this. the pattern that Fearless falls into in his fights (in conversations, Idia began to realize) where he lets a little uncertainty get the better of him. this situation throws him for a loop, but behavior like that-- it's information to latch onto, almost grounding.
he doesn't move away. in fact, he very intentionally stays close.]
[Fearless is pretty good at being emotionally unaffected. he isn't even harboring some secret deep resentment about this. as far as he thinks, he's taking every vibe as it comes at him.
but he's also used to being right. he's used to, at least, thinking he's right about what he perceives. he is always correct about the reality he lives in.
it's not very often that someone else forces him to confront their reality in contrast with his.
so Fearless just kind of halts, like a cat that's seen something no one else can see in the room, dark eyes trained unmoving on Idia's face.]
Ehn— I—
...no.
[he acknowledges.
but his brow scrunches again, because he's very aware suddenly that he doesn't actually know what's happening. what he should say next.]
[that makes two of them. Idia doesn't have the guide for this, didn't even recognize the flags. like, since when did Fearless-- never mind.]
Yeah. Exactly. [if there's one thing he's not going to be tonight, it's a mouthpiece for some other guy's assumptions. he's had about enough of that here. Idia's quiet for a second, gaze flitting across Fearless' face.] Just-- give me a second.
[there's an implication that he might leave or at least turn away. Idia doesn't do that. Idia stays right where he is, staring thoughtfully at the corner of Fearless' mouth like he might burn a hole in it. he doesn't say a thing, doesn't hum. if his hair didn't flicker, it might seem like the whole situation was on pause.]
[Fearless... does give him that second. he's not sure why he waits. this isn't the kind of reaction he'd normally stick around for, but maybe it's this sudden self-actualization from Idia that halts him. maybe it's Fearless's own curiosity. maybe it's the gentleness that people like Seras and Angel and Greed have done so well to weasel out of him.]
Cool. Okay.
[he doesn't mind waiting, he's finding. there's a lot to look at, here. the curve of Idia's brow, the gentle glow of blue against his skin coming off his hair. the bands of gold fiber in Idia's irises. he's a wonder to look at, like a gleaming star, flickering with life even as he sits so very still. Fearless's patience becomes less unsure, and more reverent.]
[Idia can feel every second that he sits there in silence. it's too long, he knows it, but there's a lot to think through, to make sense of. everything about this is new: someone taking interest in him (what??), acting on it (huh??), having another person (that he's in love with??) to account for. the fact that it actually feels-- anyway. of course he needs to consider the cut of Fearless' jaw as if he can find some meaning there. does someone's mouth look different after they kiss you?
after an agonizing stretch of silence, he suddenly glances up at Fearless proper.]
[it's actually kind of embarrassing that being distinguishable from a specific "type" is flattering to him. like, aw, you want to give him a smoocharoo on his own stupid merit? or... wait, is it back-handed? is it, like, "you're not that special"? well-- the fact that he's considered at all has Idia's hair flickering an incriminating pink.
his eyes zero in on Fearless' gesture.]
Dyeheh... Wow... What does that say about you, huh?
[don't ask about him and his taste-- where fearless may or may not be slotting into it.]
[Fearless notices that pink, because he notices everything. because he's always had to notice everything, to be safe. lucky him, though, that noticing everything in a place like this means finding things that are kind of wonderful.
his eyes soften, his smile tugs a bit mischievously and he feigns a sense of shame for a second, scratching his neck just a touch—]
Ehnnn., judging a person by their taste's about as accurate as a personality test.
[look, he's still recovering from his own Flustering... it's not especially confident as he angles his head to get a better look at this prestige performance.]
That's something a person who's been read for filth would say.
["A good time"!! Woah, y-you can't just say that in this context!! Idia flushes a brilliant red.]
Whose fault is that?
[Don't look at his lips, don't look at his lips, don't-- shit. He glances down and realizes just how close they are now, how close they have been this whole time. Get any closer and he'd be climbing into Fearless' lap. Oh, he's going to pop if he thinks about that.]
[it doesn't help that Fearless is as touchy as he is. Idia's reaction inspires a grin, a lean— Fearless rests his hand on Idia's knee in a good-natured pat, rocks forward, back— shakes with a silent laugh.]
Good point. Yeah.
Guess it's mine, huh?
[there were times— like when he first arrived— that the course of this conversation would have made him more frustrated. the normalcy of this, though, knowing his life doesn't hang on the line, knowing he's not a part of the Red Dragon here, knowing no matter what he does or decides there is money for a meal in his pocket— it really lowers the stakes. makes it okay to play, makes it okay to get ribbed by someone who isn't Vicious.
there'd been times like that before, too, where even if those threats had been present, he'd been able to relax with that one person. it's amazing that in being dead, there can be more who fill the role.]
Yeah, but I told you, I'm not really the regretful or apologetic type.
Y'know.
What happens, happens.
[he looks back at Idia, into those golden eyes that are so very close by. what is happening, Idia? what happens next?]
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he doesn't move away. in fact, he very intentionally stays close.]
Did I ask?
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but he's also used to being right. he's used to, at least, thinking he's right about what he perceives. he is always correct about the reality he lives in.
it's not very often that someone else forces him to confront their reality in contrast with his.
so Fearless just kind of halts, like a cat that's seen something no one else can see in the room, dark eyes trained unmoving on Idia's face.]
Ehn— I—
...no.
[he acknowledges.
but his brow scrunches again, because he's very aware suddenly that he doesn't actually know what's happening. what he should say next.]
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Yeah. Exactly. [if there's one thing he's not going to be tonight, it's a mouthpiece for some other guy's assumptions. he's had about enough of that here. Idia's quiet for a second, gaze flitting across Fearless' face.] Just-- give me a second.
[there's an implication that he might leave or at least turn away. Idia doesn't do that. Idia stays right where he is, staring thoughtfully at the corner of Fearless' mouth like he might burn a hole in it. he doesn't say a thing, doesn't hum. if his hair didn't flicker, it might seem like the whole situation was on pause.]
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[Fearless... does give him that second. he's not sure why he waits. this isn't the kind of reaction he'd normally stick around for, but maybe it's this sudden self-actualization from Idia that halts him. maybe it's Fearless's own curiosity. maybe it's the gentleness that people like Seras and Angel and Greed have done so well to weasel out of him.]
Cool. Okay.
[he doesn't mind waiting, he's finding. there's a lot to look at, here. the curve of Idia's brow, the gentle glow of blue against his skin coming off his hair. the bands of gold fiber in Idia's irises. he's a wonder to look at, like a gleaming star, flickering with life even as he sits so very still. Fearless's patience becomes less unsure, and more reverent.]
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after an agonizing stretch of silence, he suddenly glances up at Fearless proper.]
... Me?
[that doesn't sound like a complete sentence.]
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he shrugs.]
Why not?
[like it's as simple as that, but then he kind of glancing to the side, takes a breath in as a few more gears start to turn;]
Everyone thinks I have a— um, type?
[Seras sure did. she had a similar reaction as Idia, he's remembering.
Fearless tilts his head to the side he'd glanced at, kind of shakes his head side to side like a weighted scale rather than a dismissal.]
I really don't.
[remembering something, Fearless lifts a finger to make a point;]
You said I had bad taste, anyway.
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his eyes zero in on Fearless' gesture.]
Dyeheh... Wow... What does that say about you, huh?
[don't ask about him and his taste-- where fearless may or may not be slotting into it.]
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his eyes soften, his smile tugs a bit mischievously and he feigns a sense of shame for a second, scratching his neck just a touch—]
Ehnnn., judging a person by their taste's about as accurate as a personality test.
[probably.]
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That's something a person who's been read for filth would say.
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Y'know, I thought I was being nice, here.
[did he, though? he's not being very convincingly offended with that stupid grin.]
Came out to have a good time, and now all this...
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Whose fault is that?
[Don't look at his lips, don't look at his lips, don't-- shit. He glances down and realizes just how close they are now, how close they have been this whole time. Get any closer and he'd be climbing into Fearless' lap. Oh, he's going to pop if he thinks about that.]
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Good point. Yeah.
Guess it's mine, huh?
[there were times— like when he first arrived— that the course of this conversation would have made him more frustrated. the normalcy of this, though, knowing his life doesn't hang on the line, knowing he's not a part of the Red Dragon here, knowing no matter what he does or decides there is money for a meal in his pocket— it really lowers the stakes. makes it okay to play, makes it okay to get ribbed by someone who isn't Vicious.
there'd been times like that before, too, where even if those threats had been present, he'd been able to relax with that one person. it's amazing that in being dead, there can be more who fill the role.]
Yeah, but I told you, I'm not really the regretful or apologetic type.
Y'know.
What happens, happens.
[he looks back at Idia, into those golden eyes that are so very close by. what is happening, Idia? what happens next?]