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[ressusciter]

un: avenger.
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[manlet]

[A quiet affirmation that Dantes will live -- perhaps miserably, but he'll still try. Andersen keeps his eyes down. Very slowly, he reaches up with his free hand so he can press Dantes's.]

That's all I wanted to hear. You have a chance at freedom in this world; I don't want you to waste it.

[ressusciter]

[the touch makes him close his eyes for a second, committing it to memory.]

Perhaps I have forgotten what the sensation of freedom is.

[opening them again, he shifts so that they're slightly closer to each other.]

Did you mean it, when you said that you'd kill me?

[manlet]

[He looks up.]

If that was what you truly wanted? Yes.

[ressusciter]

Thank you.

[he doesn't smile, but there's something in his expression that suggests it. something that asks Andersen if he'll stay, if he'll leave, and he'll hold his expression if he's allowed to.]

[manlet]

[To think he'd find himself under the thrall of a new muse. Andersen has had many long months to dwell on his thoughts -- many sleepless nights to closely analyze just why he so frequently thought of a world that wasn't his own. Why he was miserable over Dantes's lack of memory.

He doesn't move away.]

... it's nothing to thank me over. An author who can't hear his subject's wishes is a useless one.

[ressusciter]

[there's a long moment where they look to each other, where Dantes cannot move away from those eyes, from Andersen, for otherwise the moment would be utterly shattered. finally he speaks, calm and collected.]

...Let me make you breakfast.

[a peace offering. a sign that he doesn't want him to leave. he won't press any points that Andersen doesn't want, but he'd like him to stay.]

[manlet]

[And it's over, just like that. All of the night before, all of what was quietly boiling beneath their conversation evaporates. Andersen finds it a little easier to breathe and is disappointed by the relief.]

If you won't say it, I will. I'm sorry and I'll have my eggs sunny-side up.

[ressusciter]

Any other specific requests?

[dawn is growing in the room, beginning to illuminate things more clearly through the open curtains. he lingers for half a second more before he pulls back, going to collect his coffee and move back towards the kitchen. having breakfast in mind is settling into an old routine, an old dance that he knows too well, and he rolls up his sleeves to begin.]

[manlet]

[He eases back onto the sofa with a sigh. It's as if nothing has happened between them at all, that their life on pause has now resumed. Andersen picks up his coffee and takes a large gulp of it.]

Yeah. Feed yourself, too, then get your ass to bed. I know you worked all night to keep yourself from sleeping.

[ressusciter]

I doubt I'm going to be able to sleep for a while still, Andersen. You know my habits.

[he says this, and soon enough the sounds of cooking will drift through the door. it's truly like an early morning before he left, as if they simply were returning back to old roles. Dantes knows where everything is, what Andersen likes - that he's going to end up adding bread and fruit in the bargain to the plate. simple, but cooked well.]

[manlet]

[His eyes roam over the table. Catches a glimpse of blue, which he peers at closer.]

Then take some of that drug you've got stashed away.

[It's the brooch. He bought it for Dantes a long time ago, on an impulsive whim. To think he'd pick a color his Witch was associated with -- that was an egocentric move only Andersen could make. But...]

You've kept this old thing this whole time?

[ressusciter]

What thing? I keep a lot of things.

[he knows what Andersen means. but he'll play dumb for as long as he can, busy with setting up their plates and cooking his own eggs.]

[manlet]

This thing!

[He realizes Dantes can't see what he's talking about. He groans, goes over while waving the brooch in question.]

You've held onto it. With the way you've been tending to my room and my things, I'm beginning to think...

[Wait. No. He can't finish that thought.]

[ressusciter]

Beginning to think what?

[he's sliding eggs onto their plates, and he looks over at the brooch for a second before he moves to set the table. of course he'd held onto it. it was important - it was something that stayed.]

You can't have thought I'd get rid of it.

[manlet]

[He's always been good at reading people. In Chaldea, it was essentially a skill. The ability to peer into another and see the core of their existence -- but in this world, it went both ways. If he could look into Dantes, then Dantes could look into him. And Andersen can't help but wonder how much the other man saw.

He turns the brooch over in his hand. Runs his finger along its edge. The words on the tip of his tongue stay where they are and he sits down.]

... whatever. If I say what I'm thinking, you'll get on my case again. Are my eggs ready?

[ressusciter]

Yes. You're fortunate I wasn't low on bread.

[putting the plate before Andersen, he takes his own seat and begins to eat in small, careful bites. savoring the taste, and allowing himself to adjust, since his last meal was quite some time ago. now, in company and with the pale light of dawn climbing ever higher, it tastes better than it has a right to, something about it too restorative.]

[manlet]

[His stomach grumbles at the fresh aroma. Feeling hunger again is like an old friend. In a strange way, he enjoys a physical reminder that he's human. Where Dantes takes small bites, Andersen eats with great gusto. He doesn't hold back, shovels it all into his mouth.

--he winds up coughing on his eggs a little.]

[ressusciter]

[breakfast is peaceful enough, and at some point in the proceedings, the cat appears again, taking the sign of two men awake as his signal to wait patiently for his own breakfast. which Dantes will handle after food without complaint. of course, there's the dishes to do and to dry. and his work to tidy up in the living room. and really, whatever else he can hold onto to avoid the idea of actually lying down for sleep.

it's going to be obvious that he's running away from the concept. again.]

[manlet]

[If he thinks he's being sneaky, he has another thing coming. When Dantes starts tidying up the living room, Andersen grabs him by the sleeve.]

I'll handle it.

[ressusciter]

Please, you just got here.

[sleep is his enemy, Andersen. you know this.]

[manlet]

I said I'll handle it. [To make his point, he begins sweeping up some of the papers into a pile.] Shut up and go upstairs.

[ressusciter]

Andersen.

[why does he have to say it aloud? why can't it just be understood?]

I don't want to sleep. Drug or not, my head is too full of thoughts for it.

[manlet]

Then lay down and close your eyes for half an hour.

[He goes on shuffling papers together.]

If I let you go on, you'll find excuse after excuse to stay up for the entire week.

[ressusciter]

It's not going to do anything for me.

[he grumbles, and begins to sulk his way towards his room. to emphasize his point, he'll lie on top of the blankets, unwilling to truly try and get cozy. a half hour, fine, he'll occupy his mind somehow.

even if the moment he lays down his body feels as heavy as stone and he has to tune out the stress of exhaustion. that's its own matter to handle. he complies, because otherwise Andersen will do something drastic.]

[manlet]

[The sight of Dantes slouching away, draped all in black like a true moody teenager, hits Andersen's funny bone so hard that he can't help barking out a laugh. He should keep his mouth shut when his partner is still within earshot, but he can't help it.]

I'll take off five minutes if you be on your best behavior!

[Ignatz, who's watching the little tiff from beneath the table, at least hops after Dantes to keep him company.]