nysalogs | ( mostly closed )

[ thomas' grin has faded again, back into something much closer to his usual expression, though there's still warmth in his gaze while he listens to john. ]

As much as I can, I suppose.

[ a beat. ] Any suggestions?

[ a laugh - one short burst, but it says about everything there is to say on the matter. still, he'll try to elaborate. ]

Develop 360 degree vision and don't be surprised what appears in it.

[ Unhelpful, but what can he say. John's seen most things by now and he's still occasionally caught off guard. at this point, when another of the district's delights seeks to surprise him, he tends to laugh rather than succumb to the red-faced fluster of more infrequent tourists to the area.

actually, he does have a couple of practical tips now he's at it. ]

Try not to linger too long by the vendors - they start to do demonstrations on fruit for things whose usage isn't immediately clear and getting away once they've started is near on impossible. And don't catch anyone's eye for longer than three seconds if you want to avoid an awkward conversation. Though you might be alright since you're Guard.

I see.

[ he does, in fact. the practical tips are just that: practical. he thinks he'll heed them, though developing 360 degree vision is not within the realm of the possible even for him. but the other tips, most certainly.

he hopes that the fact that he may be prim and proper but is not quickly shocked and does not put nearly as much stock into the norms of propriety than he may appear to will serve him well, but it remains to be seen. ]

I suppose at least I'll have a refuge to flee to, should it become overwhelming.

You will, yeah.

[ that much is a promise. it'll be as much of a relief to John as it might be to Thomas to host him in his office for a bit - God knows some of his shifts drag without company.

at which point a waiter arrives to tell them the evening's food options and take their drink order— John orders a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, glances to Thomas for confirmation that he's alright with wine with their meal. ]

[ thomas inclines his head. ] Thank you.

[ for a moment, he thinks to reach across the table, to touch his hand to john's for a moment — or for longer, perhaps. but for a moment at least.

he doesn't, because the waiter arrives. thomas nods at john's glance instead, smiling slightly as john orders. it's pleasant, this. not only the conversation, but having a companion. having someone to spend the evening with, at the very least. the pleasantness neither adds to nor detracts from the anticipation and emotion that sits tangled in his chest, but it makes it easy to ignore it, to continue on. ]

What are you thinking of having? [ he asks once the waiter's left again. ]

Mmn... the pie?

[ which... sounds incredibly basic. John darts an almost sheepish look Thomas' way, feeling on the border of foolish. struck in equal parts his sudden desire to impress, not look an idiot in front of someone impressive and worth impressing, and by the boyishness of that urge.

another breath, one of the ones that might be a laugh if he bothered to make an actual sound. ]

Sounds stupid, months in, but I still tend to go for whatever's closest to things we could get at home.

[ there's nothing wrong at all with choosing things that remind one of home, or simple food. thomas misses molly's cooking, the traditional nature of it, despite the fact that before, he'd often found himself eating out to avoid another night of staples of the english cuisine. ]

I can relate.

[ he lifts his shoulders in a shrug for a moment. ] I was thinking of the steak, myself.

[ an untangling of some freshly-made knot, and John settles. smiles at the sensation, at how schoolboy he feels alongside it all. a strange coupling of the empowered ease that comes over him on a date and the odd, bubbling fizz of years ago when all of it was new. makes sense, he supposes. the territory is both familiar and fresh.

it's nice, too, to remember that he's not the only one adrift out here. nor is he the only one without an anchor from home. there's companionship in that, too.

John nods his assent, the tucked angle of his smile perhaps incongruent with a simple sharing of meal choices. ] Can't go wrong with steak.

[ and the waiter's back with the wine, setting a glass in front of the both of them and setting the bottle on the table. he checks they're ready, takes down their meal choices, and absents himself again.

John takes the initiative to pour. ]

Unless they overcook it.

[ the response is dry and immediate, though not made in earshot of the waiter, who comes by a moment later and takes their orders.

while john pours, thomas takes the opportunity to let his gaze linger. he tries not to be too obvious about it, but neither is he hiding the fact that he's looking. he enjoys looking at john, and it isn't only the reminder of what it feels like to sleep with him, though that has warmth pooling in his stomach, too. ]

Thank you. [ he takes his glass, lifting it in a silent toast. ]

[ John can feel it. thinks he can, anyway. he's always been good at noticing attention once he realises it's on him, and he notices now.

it's far from unwelcome. he doesn't interrupt it, pours without glancing up, but when he does return his gaze up to Thomas to lift his own glass in return toast before bringing it to his lips for a sip, he holds eye contact. maintains. ]

Welcome.

[ only then does he break it, stretched to its limits in a public setting, and allows himself a little stretch of the neck and a quick massage of his shoulder to dispel the newly-arrived sparkling feeling from his muscles and set the world back onto its normal axis. ]

[ john holds his gaze and thomas' throat turns dry, his stomach tight. it's tension, but the best kind. he finds himself swallowing, but not looking away until they've both lowered their glasses again.

he wants to kiss john. chase the taste of wine from john's lips.

instead, he sets his glass down and clears his throat, his smile a little rueful. acknowledging the tension between them. acknowledging, too, that this is not the place for it. ]

What do you make of the tensions between Olympia and Wyver? [ he asks instead. ]

[ another small skittering of breath, equal acknowledgement of what's passed between them and the humour in having to move on to other things. it's a boundary he likes to walk along, really: dates are for getting to know each other, but also for enjoying themselves. there's no harm in getting little het up. compatibility is a multi-faceted beast, after all.

onwards, though. politics. ]

Likely to go south sooner or later. [ the upswing in anti-Wyver sentiment he's seen just in the past couple of says is a precursor of that. ] I haven't read up a lot on the history of it, but it seems fairly deep-rooted in some of the people here. Moreso for the recent events - the two of them working together over the past month looks like it's backfired. What're your thoughts?

Edited 2018-01-27 15:35 (UTC)

[ it heightens the attraction, knowing that it's mutual. knowing that john is affected, too. but they are moving on and thomas is the one who took the first step toward it, so he sets his own want aside and focuses instead on this.

a serious matter, though he is inclined to stay out of it as much as he can. ]

I agree. I wonder whether getting involved in the matter would change anything, but I'm inclined to think the answer is no.

[ in that much they're agreed: if a war is brewing, it won't be slowed or affected by outsiders. his tone drops, just slightly, suddenly aware that this possibly isn't something they should be discussing so openly in public either. ]

No. I'd say the best we can do is stay out until it's not an option anymore.

[ their table is secluded enough that thomas is willing to risk it, but the low pitch of john's voice is not unwarranted, he figures. ]

That was my thought as well.

[ for a moment, his gaze slides away from john, leaving him lost in his own mind. returning to the war he'd fought in, that cost england nearly all of her wizards. ]

I do hope it won't come to that.

[ John can see it: a trace of something he can relate to all too well. the difference between a civilian and a veteran at times like these is clear to those who have experienced the other side. ]

Yeah. [ spoken gently. me too goes unsaid - as does his lack of optimism that their hopes will be granted. ] Just as long as we're careful.

[ the situation is different, again, for refugees. for now they're safe in their sidelessness, but that won't be forever if these frictions keep brewing. they're going to need to watch how they play it. but that's something to worry about as time goes forward - not right now.

John's watching Thomas steadily, focus calm and centred, ready to meet his eye when he comes back. provide some silent assurance. ]

[ thomas doesn't let himself linger in the past, but the quiet understanding that comes from john when he meets his eyes again is welcome. it's steadying, and that is not something he'd have expected.

of course. the second world war was far from the only war england's been involved in. ]

Agreed.

[ before he can think of anything else to add, their food arrives, and he finds himself glad for the interruption, for the break in conversation. ]

[ it's good timing. these things aren't the easiest to talk about, especially not when you're not expecting them. another time maybe, but they've come here to enjoy themselves - the whiplash of drifting off into memory for any amount of time is always jarring and far from pleasant.

so when their food arrives, John lets the previous moment go, moves on.

there's the usual fussing and thanking as plates land, vegetables are brought over. sauces. John keeps up a casual friendly dialogue with the waiter: he's a semi-regular of this bar by now, and it's always nice to keep the staff in good spirits. plus it serves as a reset button, gives them both a bit of time to separate from the precious topic.

eventually they're alone again, tucking into food. John, forkful prepped and hovering, waits on the verdict of Thomas' first bite. ]

Make the right decision?

[ did they overcook it? ]

[ it's a good choice, letting the topic go, though thomas cannot quite bring himself to regret bringing it up in the first place. for all that it is an unpleasant topic, it is necessary as well. they are part of this world now, and its politics affect them. for better or for worse.

and he likes knowing where john stands.

despite that, he has no particular interest in returning to it and so just smiles, something a little softer than before. ]

I did.

[ the steak is perfect. a beat, and he offers: ] Would you like to try it?

[ somehow, it's this that makes him nervous. like there's something more involved, dateish about sharing food than there is in making eyes across the table until you're ready to— until it's best you stop doing that for propriety's sake.

so he's stuck staring at Thomas for a second, jaw slightly slack as he makes the decision. I'm alright thanks would get him past this nervy hurdle without incident, but it's also ridiculous. you can't be a person who throws himself into hot pursuit of murderers and also a person who turns down a bite of food because the thought of it has his heartbeat in his throat.

come on, John, for God's sake.

it's only a couple of seconds pause. a quick pair of blinks denotes him coming out of it, and there's a small series of nods to try and cover for his momentary lapse of presence. John sets down his fork but doesn't let it go, not quite sure how they're progressing with this. ]

Yeah, sure.

[ thomas' demons are very different from john's. he's thrown himself into hot pursuit of murderers, yes, and many more things, but he has always done them in the knowledge of his powers and abilities, of his own skill. he has never been the kind of man to chase the thrill of it. the war still haunts him in a way that he cannot undo, ghosts that he cannot exorcise despite knowing how to exorcise actual ghosts in more ways than one.

but despite growing up in a day and age in which homosexuality has been not only a sin but also a criminal offence, he has never let himself be ashamed of his own desires, his urges, wanting men over women. (that is not entirely true; he has internalised some of the norms of his time, but he does not often let it to the surface.)

there is freedom here that lets him show affection and interest in men. he hadn't expected it to throw john off so obviously and he almost withdraws the offer before john is nodding, agreeing. perhaps he might have played with the thought of offering his fork to john food first, but now, he cuts off a bite of steak and hands his fork to john instead with the hilt of it first, letting john take it. ]

[ John accepts gladly, and perhaps there might've been a trace of gratitude given to Thomas if he hadn't reacted so smoothly that John remains unaware that his own hesitation had been noticed and adapted to: as it is, the gratitude is only for the food that he's offered, and his nerves settle considerably to find the fork handle in his own hand.

taking the bite off the fork, John catches Thomas' eye just as he does, and a complicated little ripple of something crosses his face as his eyes dart away so he can chew. he ducks his head too, a vague attempt to conceal the suddenly shy pull of a smile and the heat he can feel in his ears.

Jesus Christ, you're not fourteen.

the fork dangles between his fingers as he swallows, nodding out a verdict before he can add the words that burst out as soon as his throat's clear to let them. ]

—Yeah. That's good. Good choice.

[ the way their eyes meet before john's dart away make thomas' stomach tighten again — with anticipation but also with uncertainty, for a moment. there are moments when he isn't sure of john's interest. it's there, yes, of that he is sure — but whether or not john is willing to act on it, that he is not so certain of.

he knows all too well that there are reasons, sometimes, why what one wants cannot happen regardless. the world is not always or even often kind in that way.

but he pushes those thoughts away. there is no need to be fatalistic before the fact. so he smiles, instead, and holds his hand out for his fork. ]

Quite. And your pie? Satisfied with it?

[ it's taking him a while to restart, put himself properly back on the rails and get moving again. Thomas accepts back his fork and John laughs at the question he's asked - it isn't funny, and John realises that, but he's laughing anyway, just a quick burst of those quiet voiceless under-breath laughs. what he's laughing at is his own, giddy idiocy, and the doing of it does its job, hooks him back into the conversation, all raised eyebrows and smiling at who knows what (John does, but from the outside it must be relatively inexplicable). ]

Mmn. Thank you, it's good. [ this is where John ought to offer a bite in return, but it's instead where he takes a sip of wine: sharing food is what sent him spinning off on one, probably best he gives himself a second before he goes wandering down that path again.

wine swallowed and feeling considerably more collected than he did just a few seconds ago, John takes his already loaded fork in hand. ] Did you want some?

[ it's asked earnestly, not a product of perceived obligation (he really did just need a second to get himself together) - though it might come out sounding a bit throwaway. not his intention, just a result of a late recovery and trying to keep himself centred. ]

[ the laughter is nice, though it does seem a little inexplicable to thomas, a little odd. he doesn't think john is laughing at him, at least.

(it's odd, to be thinking about these things. to be wondering. he'd have thought that he is too old for it, but john proves him wrong on that count.) ]

If you wouldn't mind.

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