[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?
[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.]
[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.
[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.]
[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.]
[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.]
[at least the cat loves him. at least someone cares about his feelings enough to come see if he's sleeping alright.
which. he doesn't. he does sleep, as Andersen probably predicted, his body unable to handle shutting down, but it's about two hours later when he jerks back awake from a new review of everything that lies dormant in his thoughts, and he curses under his breath. instead of lingering, he gets back up to fix his clothing and to go peer around to see if Andersen's run off anywhere with his newfound freedom. it's early enough that there's a full day ahead.]
[Andersen is fast asleep in the kitchen, with a variety of bottles neatly stacked on the table he's slumped over. He got into the alcohol not too long after he finished his work. His glasses are crooked on his face and nestled in his loose fist is the brooch he picked up from the living room.
[somehow, he's not entirely surprised. the bottles can be dealt with later, but for now, it feels only natural to pick Andersen up in his arms and carry him off to his room. putting him in bed is another simple matter, and on the bedside table Dantes sets his glasses and the brooch. strange that he'd cling onto it, and for a moment, Dantes pauses with it in his hand. but in the end, it goes there too.
he'll fix the kitchen to back how it was, and do his own duty of making the place a little cozier. in Andersen's absence, the theatre had been fully reorganized, but it didn't mean there weren't things to still do while Andersen sleeps.]
[He remains sound asleep as Dantes carries him away, with not even a flinch. Andersen's taken full advantage of his human body in this world to get himself miserably, absolutely drunk -- and given what has happened the last few hours, why shouldn't he? He wants a few moments to shut off his brain, to let himself ignore deadlines and what's brewing in his chest.
--his dreams aren't pleasant. Caught on the brink between waking and sleep, he tosses and turns in bed.]
[coming to check on him, seeing him in such distress, a frown creases Dantes's brow. whatever lurks in his mind, he's pulled into regret - if only he could go, burn it away and leave Andersen untroubled the way he used to do for their Master. absent that, all he can do is stand by the bed, slowly reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder.]
[Touch is new. Foreign. Andersen jolts awake and swipes out on instinct. He bumps his back against the headboard as he scrambles back, blankets tangling his legs. Only when he realizes it's Dantes (not a rathmore, not friend-turned-foe, just his bonded, his friend) does he freeze in place.
Slowly, he puts a hand to his head. He can feel a throbbing headache coming on.]
Don't watch me sleep.
[There'd be more poison to the words if his voice wasn't so soft.]
[he remains where he is, hand jerked back after Andersen was awake and tried to strike out - only a natural thing. they've lived through this before. Dantes knows how nightmares grip and twist one's psyche to the limit.
he won't push. won't ask too much, because of how very near the hurt is.]
[Andersen is an observer. He can see the worst of humanity without flinching because someone has to do it. Someone has to weave terrors into stories that can soothe and heal the heart. That's why he can't have anyone see him like this -- Dantes included. He's grateful for the out given to him.
[A subtle grimace, one Dantes will see from having been his Bonded for so long. Andersen doesn't look at him. He slips out of bed and refuses to look at him, his words taking on its usual edge.]
If you want to be Bonded so badly, just say so. I don't need you to neg me.
[for a long moment, he's silent. there are subtle twitches, a set to his jaw that Andersen will know as him carefully choosing his words, linking them together in the exact right order to say something difficult. he pulls them from himself, and has to live with them.
when he speaks at last, it is slow, rough, the syllables forming words he doesn't wish to yield up but that he will in the end. sobriety lends a clarity and an awareness of all inhibitions and blocks that are in the way, that must be surmounted to speak.]
...I didn't at first. I thought simply that you knew me from Chaldea, and we could work out some kind of arrangement, that I could trust you with my True Name because you already knew it. And over time...you became more a friend than a mere partner because of how you were. You exist around me, and grasp for more, but you do not demand that I lay the foundations for it and use the stories that come to you, not to others.
That man took my life, broke it into pieces, and rewrote whatever did not meet his approval. He warped the truth, and so it became reflected through his words, and I was altered accordingly. I will never be free of the lens of public perception. But you...
[he exhales, closing his eyes.]
You are not trying to reshape me to fit the image that you desire most.
[He is accustomed to being a means to an end, a stepping block for a greater goal. Their Master treating him as a person is a rare case; and with Kiara -- god knows that woman didn't have her head on straight to begin with. It'd be better for everyone involved to focus on his writing, not on him, yet he can't deny it makes his heart jump to hear Dantes speak so kindly of him. Andersen sets his hand on the brooch, fingers warm against the sapphire.]
Stupid. [A clipped response.] I'm a carrion animal, much as he was. If it's for the sake of a tale, I'll spin what I find. The only line separating him and I is that I'm far too lazy to trim the excess fat off my subjects.
[His shoulders tense.]
You've made up your mind on our Bond, haven't you? I don't have a chance in hell of convincing you otherwise.
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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?
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[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.]
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--he winds up coughing on his eggs a little.]
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it's going to be obvious that he's running away from the concept. again.]
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I'll handle it.
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[sleep is his enemy, Andersen. you know this.]
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[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.
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[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.
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[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.]
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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.]
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which. he doesn't. he does sleep, as Andersen probably predicted, his body unable to handle shutting down, but it's about two hours later when he jerks back awake from a new review of everything that lies dormant in his thoughts, and he curses under his breath. instead of lingering, he gets back up to fix his clothing and to go peer around to see if Andersen's run off anywhere with his newfound freedom. it's early enough that there's a full day ahead.]
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He seems completely at peace, for once.]
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he'll fix the kitchen to back how it was, and do his own duty of making the place a little cozier. in Andersen's absence, the theatre had been fully reorganized, but it didn't mean there weren't things to still do while Andersen sleeps.]
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--his dreams aren't pleasant. Caught on the brink between waking and sleep, he tosses and turns in bed.]
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Andersen.
[soft, and then a little louder, with the touch.]
Andersen.
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Slowly, he puts a hand to his head. He can feel a throbbing headache coming on.]
Don't watch me sleep.
[There'd be more poison to the words if his voice wasn't so soft.]
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[he remains where he is, hand jerked back after Andersen was awake and tried to strike out - only a natural thing. they've lived through this before. Dantes knows how nightmares grip and twist one's psyche to the limit.
he won't push. won't ask too much, because of how very near the hurt is.]
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His hand drops.]
I was trying to sleep until the next day.
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[he draws back, arms crossing, restraining a question about the nightmares that comes out instead as the second worst thing.]
Why do you want to sleep so long? Aren't there more important things than that?
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If you want to be Bonded so badly, just say so. I don't need you to neg me.
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[a brief pause as he looks away.]
...As for Bonding, well. I expressed my sentiments last night, and they have not altered. I leave the ultimate decision in your hands.
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Why do you trust me so much, Dantes? I'm an author like Dumas was.
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when he speaks at last, it is slow, rough, the syllables forming words he doesn't wish to yield up but that he will in the end. sobriety lends a clarity and an awareness of all inhibitions and blocks that are in the way, that must be surmounted to speak.]
...I didn't at first. I thought simply that you knew me from Chaldea, and we could work out some kind of arrangement, that I could trust you with my True Name because you already knew it. And over time...you became more a friend than a mere partner because of how you were. You exist around me, and grasp for more, but you do not demand that I lay the foundations for it and use the stories that come to you, not to others.
That man took my life, broke it into pieces, and rewrote whatever did not meet his approval. He warped the truth, and so it became reflected through his words, and I was altered accordingly. I will never be free of the lens of public perception. But you...
[he exhales, closing his eyes.]
You are not trying to reshape me to fit the image that you desire most.
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Stupid. [A clipped response.] I'm a carrion animal, much as he was. If it's for the sake of a tale, I'll spin what I find. The only line separating him and I is that I'm far too lazy to trim the excess fat off my subjects.
[His shoulders tense.]
You've made up your mind on our Bond, haven't you? I don't have a chance in hell of convincing you otherwise.
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