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[ did feng xin stay in his room for the entire 24 hours that clockwork dragonfly flitted and fluttered about his room, completely transfixed over the intricate, impossibly delicate-looking thing? yes, and what of it? you expect this man, who has never before seen anything like it before, to leave it all by its lonesome while it imitated life so uncannily keita might as well have breathed his own into it? hell no.
that's why it takes feng xin an entire day before he's showing up at the other man's door, cradling in one hand small bundle of folded cloth.
when keita eventually answers his quiet knock, the clockmaker will find the larger man looking more than a little uncertain. ]
I think I broke it.
[ 😭😭😭 why isn't it flying around anymore??? ]
that's why it takes feng xin an entire day before he's showing up at the other man's door, cradling in one hand small bundle of folded cloth.
when keita eventually answers his quiet knock, the clockmaker will find the larger man looking more than a little uncertain. ]
I think I broke it.
[ 😭😭😭 why isn't it flying around anymore??? ]
[ See, this is why Keita has to guard his heart carefully. What is he supposed to do with a man who appears at his door looking this worried about a clockwork toy?
It's evident that Feng Xin is truly concerned, so Keita steps back into his own room to let him in. ] I doubt you've broken it, they're quite sturdy. Come in, I'll have a look.
[ (Was this part of the plan? Getting to see a glimpse of Feng Xin by giving him a gift that would need winding after a day? Keita will never admit to it.)
He lets the door swing closed behind them and guides Feng Xin toward his sitting table, which is covered with parts and pieces. Keita isn't using it for eating at, obviously, just for work—he clears a small area of the table for Feng Xin to set the dragonfly down on, then gestures for him to have a seat. ]
Did it run into something? Or was it harmed somehow? [ It looks fine, externally! ] Or did it just stop working?
It's evident that Feng Xin is truly concerned, so Keita steps back into his own room to let him in. ] I doubt you've broken it, they're quite sturdy. Come in, I'll have a look.
[ (Was this part of the plan? Getting to see a glimpse of Feng Xin by giving him a gift that would need winding after a day? Keita will never admit to it.)
He lets the door swing closed behind them and guides Feng Xin toward his sitting table, which is covered with parts and pieces. Keita isn't using it for eating at, obviously, just for work—he clears a small area of the table for Feng Xin to set the dragonfly down on, then gestures for him to have a seat. ]
Did it run into something? Or was it harmed somehow? [ It looks fine, externally! ] Or did it just stop working?
When you said this place had ways of encouraging one to take part in their games, was it anything like this?
[ Somehow he doesn't think so, but... Mori is the only person that has gone through this sort of thing to Roche's knowledge. ]
I feel like I'm on the verge of spontaneously combusting and I've found myself looking... not quite like myself, if I'm perfectly honest. At this point I'm starting to wish I could have the jealousy you described.
[ Somehow he doesn't think so, but... Mori is the only person that has gone through this sort of thing to Roche's knowledge. ]
I feel like I'm on the verge of spontaneously combusting and I've found myself looking... not quite like myself, if I'm perfectly honest. At this point I'm starting to wish I could have the jealousy you described.
[He was getting a bit concerned about his dwindling list of people he can bother, and that was less hypothetical and more of a reality. He's noticed that he hadn't seen some faces for a while, and while he originally chalked it up to a coincidence-- the casino is huge after all-- he had started having second thoughts after his own disappearance.
He was lucky. His hadn't been permanent.
Of course, he could be honest. He could just come up to Keita and admit he was relieved to see him around, and that he was a bit worried with all the disappearances. Except Rinne's a bit terrible at being vulnerable with his emotions, even if he's quick to bare his body to survive.
So instead, he'll pretend he was just passing by with a giant stuffed pig in a bikini, because of course he is, and proceeds to put it atop Keita's head because he has no respect.]
Guess who~?
[He purposely makes his voice high and squeaky, staying behind Keita where he can't see him.]
He was lucky. His hadn't been permanent.
Of course, he could be honest. He could just come up to Keita and admit he was relieved to see him around, and that he was a bit worried with all the disappearances. Except Rinne's a bit terrible at being vulnerable with his emotions, even if he's quick to bare his body to survive.
So instead, he'll pretend he was just passing by with a giant stuffed pig in a bikini, because of course he is, and proceeds to put it atop Keita's head because he has no respect.]
Guess who~?
[He purposely makes his voice high and squeaky, staying behind Keita where he can't see him.]
[ Even without the benefit of his clairvoyance, it would be evident to Keita that there's something on Rinne's mind—he wouldn't ordinarily seek Keita out so specifically, after all.
But if Keita has suspicions about Rinne's motives in the moment, he certainly doesn't let on, nor does he immediately make it plain that he even knows it's Rinne. The doll lands atop Keita's head and he tilts his head back very slightly, but not far enough to actually look up into Rinne's face. ]
Can't I have a hint? [ There's amusement in Keita's tone, as he sits back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other. ] Although I'm not sure I know too many who would put something on my head and raise the pitch of their voice.
[ That requires a certain amount of theatricality, and of all the people Keita knows, Rinne is one of the only ones with the right flair for the dramatic. ]
But if Keita has suspicions about Rinne's motives in the moment, he certainly doesn't let on, nor does he immediately make it plain that he even knows it's Rinne. The doll lands atop Keita's head and he tilts his head back very slightly, but not far enough to actually look up into Rinne's face. ]
Can't I have a hint? [ There's amusement in Keita's tone, as he sits back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other. ] Although I'm not sure I know too many who would put something on my head and raise the pitch of their voice.
[ That requires a certain amount of theatricality, and of all the people Keita knows, Rinne is one of the only ones with the right flair for the dramatic. ]
[He starts typing and deleting the message over and over again because, uncharacteristically, he's a little nervous. Why, he's not entirely sure.]
Happy birthday, Mori! I hope it's a good one!
Would you be willing to let me treat you to dinner and maybe a walk around the forest a little to look at the stars?
Happy birthday, Mori! I hope it's a good one!
Would you be willing to let me treat you to dinner and maybe a walk around the forest a little to look at the stars?
[ Keita remembers telling Ches his birthdate, but it does somewhat surprise him to receive a message on the day itself. Even having remembered it happening, he's not... especially used to anyone wanting to celebrate it. ]
Thank you, Ches. It's very touching that you remembered.
I would like that very much. When are you free?
Thank you, Ches. It's very touching that you remembered.
I would like that very much. When are you free?
[ Knock, knock. As promised, Midnight is here, holding a champagne by the neck in one hand, and a bouquet of silk flowers, yellow and pink roses with sprays of baby's breath, in the other. Once the door opens, he beams, bows, and presents the bouquet to Keita. ]
There. Flowers that will last as long as my devotion for you. Hello, my love.
There. Flowers that will last as long as my devotion for you. Hello, my love.
[ The smile Keita wears when he pulls the door open is one of genuine adoration, already delighted even before he lays eyes on the flowers. Up until this very moment he'd thought he didn't quite understand the practice of bringing lovers gifts, but as he reaches out to take the offered bouquet, Keita thinks that he's starting to put the pieces together after all. A gift like this, a sign of Midnight's care for him—what could possibly be warmer? ]
Hello, darling. [ One of Midnight's favorite little pet names, but in Keita's voice this time. He steps forward and rest a hand on Midnight's arm, then pushes up on his toes so he can kiss Midnight brief and sweet before moving back to make room for him to come inside. ] Come in. I was just thinking about how thoroughly you must have bewitched me, to make me think of you all day.
[ Keita waits in the foyer until Midnight has removed his shoes, then kisses him again before he leads the way into the living space, where he can put the bouquet of silk flowers into a vase with no water. They'll never die, this way. The thought makes Keita smile again, and he turns back to Midnight, moves closer to rest his hands at Midnight's waist and looks up at him, soft and warm. ]
Shall I fetch glasses, or is the champagne for later?
Hello, darling. [ One of Midnight's favorite little pet names, but in Keita's voice this time. He steps forward and rest a hand on Midnight's arm, then pushes up on his toes so he can kiss Midnight brief and sweet before moving back to make room for him to come inside. ] Come in. I was just thinking about how thoroughly you must have bewitched me, to make me think of you all day.
[ Keita waits in the foyer until Midnight has removed his shoes, then kisses him again before he leads the way into the living space, where he can put the bouquet of silk flowers into a vase with no water. They'll never die, this way. The thought makes Keita smile again, and he turns back to Midnight, moves closer to rest his hands at Midnight's waist and looks up at him, soft and warm. ]
Shall I fetch glasses, or is the champagne for later?
[ on christmas morning, keita will find a small box set beside his door. inside is a simple and shallow glass dish, along with a note: ]
Merry Christmas, Mr. Mori. I hope you don't think me too forward in gifting you something that might possibly clash with the rest of your things. But I thought it couldn't hurt to have one other place to house your various trinkets while they await your use.
What you have is a gift, Mr. Mori. As someone who has only ever known to destroy with my hands, I hope you never tire of creating with yours. I know I would certainly never tire of watching you do it. — Marco
What you have is a gift, Mr. Mori. As someone who has only ever known to destroy with my hands, I hope you never tire of creating with yours. I know I would certainly never tire of watching you do it. — Marco
["Christmas" isn't, strictly speaking, a holiday that Rufus particularly understands — and no amount of binging Hallmark holiday movies is likely to make it any clearer, particularly not when he's busy getting hung up on why a powerful female professional would abandon what appear to be all her life's ambitions in favor of a man with a beard who wears flannel and farms trees. Absolutely bizarre.
Nevertheless, a small and modest package shows up at Keita's door on or about Christmas Day, roughly palm-sized, and containing a gift that's more than it seems on its face. It's hard to say whether it's more of a gag-gift novelty purchase or meant for actual use, but either way, it'd clearly made him think of Keita for certain understandable shifty-guy reasons.
There's no card — and maybe he wants it that way — but the lone tell of its buyer's identity is the fact that the wrapping is sleek and all-black, real posh nonsense that doesn't seem to suit the holiday at all.]
Nevertheless, a small and modest package shows up at Keita's door on or about Christmas Day, roughly palm-sized, and containing a gift that's more than it seems on its face. It's hard to say whether it's more of a gag-gift novelty purchase or meant for actual use, but either way, it'd clearly made him think of Keita for certain understandable shifty-guy reasons.
There's no card — and maybe he wants it that way — but the lone tell of its buyer's identity is the fact that the wrapping is sleek and all-black, real posh nonsense that doesn't seem to suit the holiday at all.]
Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which was seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which was seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
[ooc: Continued from here]
Just appearing here is a start! It's not really easy to kidnap someone and put them in a new bed and change their clothes all in one go! I was definitely at home before.
Isn't that too advanced a technique?
Just appearing here is a start! It's not really easy to kidnap someone and put them in a new bed and change their clothes all in one go! I was definitely at home before.
Isn't that too advanced a technique?
Oy, Tick Tock.
I did what we talked about and went back an hour twice.
I did what we talked about and went back an hour twice.
[ It isn't often that he lets himself be in this kind of disarray, testament perhaps to how safe and comfortable he feels with Midnight—and to his trust that when Midnight says he's beautiful, he means it. Keita smiles, reaching up to cup Midnight's face with both hands even as his body begins to stir, his cock twitching faintly under those questing fingers slipping under the fabric of his yukata. ]
So do you, [ he says, drawing his thumbs gently over the rise of Midnight's cheekbones. ] You're stunning, Midnight.
[ His touch lowers then, brushing along the pale column of Midnight's throat down to his collarbones, fingers smoothing over his chest beneath the lapels of his own clothing. It's enticing, to be able to catch such glimpses of Midnight's body, partially concealed beneath his clothes... it makes desire bloom in a simmer under Keita's skin, his fingers finding Midnight's nipples to tease at them both.
Thighs part slightly, allowing Midnight more room to touch, and Keita sits up a bit so he can reach behind Midnight to undo his obi. As he does, he leans up to press a sweet, tender kiss to Midnight's cheek, then murmurs low in his ear, ]
I want you inside me, my love. Please?
So do you, [ he says, drawing his thumbs gently over the rise of Midnight's cheekbones. ] You're stunning, Midnight.
[ His touch lowers then, brushing along the pale column of Midnight's throat down to his collarbones, fingers smoothing over his chest beneath the lapels of his own clothing. It's enticing, to be able to catch such glimpses of Midnight's body, partially concealed beneath his clothes... it makes desire bloom in a simmer under Keita's skin, his fingers finding Midnight's nipples to tease at them both.
Thighs part slightly, allowing Midnight more room to touch, and Keita sits up a bit so he can reach behind Midnight to undo his obi. As he does, he leans up to press a sweet, tender kiss to Midnight's cheek, then murmurs low in his ear, ]
I want you inside me, my love. Please?
You may have anything you like, my heart.
[ Even though Midnight is the one currently splaying Keita out, there's a softness in his hands as they settle at Keita's hips, lifting them to pull the obi away, then to take a spare cushion and settle it where the obi was, at the small of his back. Even though Keita is the most capable, well kept man he's ever met, Midnight can't help but feel agitated at the sight of his hair askew at his forehead, the part of his lips delicate, as though he holds a secret between them. He needs to care for him, to consume him, to lock him up deep underground so nothing might harm him...
He leans back without breaking focus, pulls his coat from the folded pile of clothing and feels for the lube in his pocket. Bending over Keita as he applies the lube to his fingers almost breaks the moment; he smiles, the bottle skittering between his fingers as Keita's firm hands feel his chest, his nipples hardening in return. The pleasure goes straight between his legs in a surge of heat as his obi slips to the floor next to them. Midnight puts a hand down to steady himself, looming over Keita, his yukata hanging between them like curtains, and pulls him partway onto his lap, lovely thighs open to him. He puts his other hands to the cleft of Keita's backside, warmed and slick fingertips sliding over the perineum and teasing the rim of his hole. ]
Let me have you, darling...
[ He sets a kiss on Keita's lips, shivering as Keita's hands roam over his body, then lets his fingers slip inside, easy and soft. Midnight flushes at how easily Keita lets him in, his own cock growing stiff against his underwear in anticipation. ]
[ Even though Midnight is the one currently splaying Keita out, there's a softness in his hands as they settle at Keita's hips, lifting them to pull the obi away, then to take a spare cushion and settle it where the obi was, at the small of his back. Even though Keita is the most capable, well kept man he's ever met, Midnight can't help but feel agitated at the sight of his hair askew at his forehead, the part of his lips delicate, as though he holds a secret between them. He needs to care for him, to consume him, to lock him up deep underground so nothing might harm him...
He leans back without breaking focus, pulls his coat from the folded pile of clothing and feels for the lube in his pocket. Bending over Keita as he applies the lube to his fingers almost breaks the moment; he smiles, the bottle skittering between his fingers as Keita's firm hands feel his chest, his nipples hardening in return. The pleasure goes straight between his legs in a surge of heat as his obi slips to the floor next to them. Midnight puts a hand down to steady himself, looming over Keita, his yukata hanging between them like curtains, and pulls him partway onto his lap, lovely thighs open to him. He puts his other hands to the cleft of Keita's backside, warmed and slick fingertips sliding over the perineum and teasing the rim of his hole. ]
Let me have you, darling...
[ He sets a kiss on Keita's lips, shivering as Keita's hands roam over his body, then lets his fingers slip inside, easy and soft. Midnight flushes at how easily Keita lets him in, his own cock growing stiff against his underwear in anticipation. ]
(re: this)
I want to apologize as well.
I was abrupt with you when I assumed your interest was entirely sexual, and didn't know how to feel when you expressed otherwise. I suppose.
[He doesn't know how to talk about his feelings but he's really good at downplaying them. Vanitas will try for Keita's sake, though.]
I was hoping no one would bid on me, truth be told. I'm tired of feeling like I don't have a say in what happens to me. And I know it's the same situation everyone is in here, but if I can avoid feeling like that, I want to.
I want to apologize as well.
I was abrupt with you when I assumed your interest was entirely sexual, and didn't know how to feel when you expressed otherwise. I suppose.
[He doesn't know how to talk about his feelings but he's really good at downplaying them. Vanitas will try for Keita's sake, though.]
I was hoping no one would bid on me, truth be told. I'm tired of feeling like I don't have a say in what happens to me. And I know it's the same situation everyone is in here, but if I can avoid feeling like that, I want to.
No need at all. This place makes it difficult to know whether someone is seeking sexual congress or simple friendship or both... In addition, I often struggle with understanding what others want of me, and I sometimes overstep as a result.
I know what you mean. I'm sorry that I contributed to that feeling. I suppose it's... somewhat unavoidable, things being what they are, but at the very least Oushi-kun is a very kind man. If anyone is to "win" you, perhaps it's best that it's him.
I know what you mean. I'm sorry that I contributed to that feeling. I suppose it's... somewhat unavoidable, things being what they are, but at the very least Oushi-kun is a very kind man. If anyone is to "win" you, perhaps it's best that it's him.
[Initially he hadn't wanted to involve Mori in this, but his search has been fruitless so far and he's grasping at any possible recourse.]
Would it be all right to ask you to check on the outcome of something with your ability?
Would it be all right to ask you to check on the outcome of something with your ability?
[It takes longer, far longer, than Thancred's pride as an infiltration specialist would allow to find a path out of the marketplace and back to the existing amenities of the resort. It's curious, he finds, how they're all there, albeit concealed by a means he can't quite identify — some magick or another, he presumes, that facilitates roping the guests into the resort's games while never fully depriving them of its pleasures, either.
Mayhap it's that tonight there's a gnawing in his soul that craves precisely what the Gilded Cage delivers: intimacy, connection, and in Thancred's case, an opportunity to fill that craving with something meaningless so as to forget the longing from which it stems. It's a nice place — nicer than any tavern he's ever done work in. Ornate as it is, it reminds him of Eulmore, a bit. Reminiscent of the Beehive, even.
(He'd once told Ryne the Beehive was the sort of place where one goes to savor some memories and drown the others. He'd been right. This is precisely that sort of place.)
He marks the effects of the floral perfumes almost immediately — the hazy stupor they cast over the room, the comfortable clouding of sense and reason. He could resist it if he wanted, but he doesn't. It's enough to mark it, for now, and file it away as a consideration for later, should temptation coax him too far out of his better sense. He's served a drink. After some time, he's served another. And after he thoroughly loses track of time amid the incense and the shadows, he gradually comes to notice that the chatter of the clientele has largely quieted, leaving only the sounds of the piano player to draw him in like a fish on a line.
Admittedly, he wasn't expecting it to be Mori. He's not sure what he was expecting, really.
For now, it's just warming to see a familiar face, and so he wanders over with his half-drunk cocktail in his hand, curious to watch the maestro play firsthand.]
Mayhap it's that tonight there's a gnawing in his soul that craves precisely what the Gilded Cage delivers: intimacy, connection, and in Thancred's case, an opportunity to fill that craving with something meaningless so as to forget the longing from which it stems. It's a nice place — nicer than any tavern he's ever done work in. Ornate as it is, it reminds him of Eulmore, a bit. Reminiscent of the Beehive, even.
(He'd once told Ryne the Beehive was the sort of place where one goes to savor some memories and drown the others. He'd been right. This is precisely that sort of place.)
He marks the effects of the floral perfumes almost immediately — the hazy stupor they cast over the room, the comfortable clouding of sense and reason. He could resist it if he wanted, but he doesn't. It's enough to mark it, for now, and file it away as a consideration for later, should temptation coax him too far out of his better sense. He's served a drink. After some time, he's served another. And after he thoroughly loses track of time amid the incense and the shadows, he gradually comes to notice that the chatter of the clientele has largely quieted, leaving only the sounds of the piano player to draw him in like a fish on a line.
Admittedly, he wasn't expecting it to be Mori. He's not sure what he was expecting, really.
For now, it's just warming to see a familiar face, and so he wanders over with his half-drunk cocktail in his hand, curious to watch the maestro play firsthand.]
[ The habit of staying late after the Gilded Cage has closed is one that Keita has held onto for the better part of two full years, now. He'd arrived in winter, newly heartbroken, and had taken to the piano as a way to soothe that turbulence; although the hurt of missing Thaniel has abated somewhat, across the intervening months, when it gets dark and cold in the deep winter Keita finds that old aches tend to resurface.
He's aware of Thancred's presence as he plays, aware too of the choices that will lead Thancred to approach, but it doesn't stop Keita. He plays through a handful of pieces back to back, some melancholy, some lighter; one of them a gift from Thaniel, one of them a gift from Midnight. One of them a gift he's yet to receive, but which come Christmas he'll know by heart. He's lucky, Keita thinks, to have had so many chances to love so well, for all that loving has opened him up to loss and grief as well.
He makes his way through one last piece, tender and emotional, and then lets his hands drop into his lap. The final notes seem to linger in the silence, trailing off, and Keita turns to look up at Thancred with a quiet, warm smile. ]
There you are. [ He pats the bench beside him in invitation. ] Will I play something for you?
He's aware of Thancred's presence as he plays, aware too of the choices that will lead Thancred to approach, but it doesn't stop Keita. He plays through a handful of pieces back to back, some melancholy, some lighter; one of them a gift from Thaniel, one of them a gift from Midnight. One of them a gift he's yet to receive, but which come Christmas he'll know by heart. He's lucky, Keita thinks, to have had so many chances to love so well, for all that loving has opened him up to loss and grief as well.
He makes his way through one last piece, tender and emotional, and then lets his hands drop into his lap. The final notes seem to linger in the silence, trailing off, and Keita turns to look up at Thancred with a quiet, warm smile. ]
There you are. [ He pats the bench beside him in invitation. ] Will I play something for you?
[Sitting outside his door is a smart-looking folded box of black board sealed with string looped about a stylish orange faux gem clasp. Inside a nest of orange packing paper is an impressive wooden model clock puzzle, complete with mechanical parts and wind-up features to accent its charm and complexity. A small note attached to the back demands Keita record the time it takes to complete it without cheating if possible. Several little bags of metal clockwork pieces hide within the packing paper, though he's never actually seen Keita work on a clock the entire time he's known him... Finally stashed away in sturdy wrapping is a green tea sake cocktail, (which got a strange look when he'd ordered the damn thing) though Keita will probably have to source the measurements from a bartender later.]
We've known each other well over a year now, and I still don't know a lot about you. But each time we're together, I feel comfortable with you. When we cook together or sleep together, this place doesn't seem so bad. Thanks for being someone I can experience that with. Let me know when the next time we can meet up. If you wanna cook again, we'll make something from London.
Merry Christmas, Keita.
Bakugo
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