( mostly closed )

[ettersberg]

Who: Thomas Nightingale (ettersberg) & various
What: dinner dates, accidentally stumbling about questers, a month in the life of one (1) thomas nightingale
When: january
Where: olympia
Warning(s): n/a (will warn in subject lines if anything comes up)

[ starters in comments. hit me up via pm or at abiosis if you'd like to do something! ]

Comments

[ettersberg]

True.

[ the joke settles something inside thomas that the awkwardness of before had kicked up, not quite an insecurity but a worry. he finds himself smiling back before sipping some more of his wine, finding his glass nearly empty.

so he takes the lull in conversation as an invitation to refill their glasses. ]

The only thing missing now is a game of rugby on. [ he remarks after a moment, letting his gaze take in the pub. it'd be possible, wouldn't it, to pretend that this is london instead of a whole other planet. thomas doesn't allow himself the luxury. ]

[enarms]

[ John's mid-mouthful when Thomas brings up rugby, and he swallows it down with an indignant look. ]

If there was rugby on, we wouldn't be drinking wine and eating steak.

[ it's said with the offended mock-disbelief of a die-hard fan faced with the ludicrous reality that anyone could even suggest that one could possibly sit and eat a pleasant meal when one ought to be sitting haphazardly on bar stools, swigging beer and groaning at missed opportunities to score. it's play, and John sustains it just long enough for the fun to settle before he casts an almost unconscious glance over his shoulder at where a TV would sit perfectly over the bar. if this were London, if they were home. ]

Would be good though, wouldn't it. I wonder how many people here even know the game.

[ there are plenty of Earthlings here, from who he's met. but so many are American, and scattered all over times. not that promising, really. ]

[ettersberg]

[ for a moment, thomas remains impassive. one might even think that he is not so invested in rugby that it matters to him whether he has food and wine while watching or whether he can focus wholly on the game.

then, a moment later, that expression breaks and he laughs. it's a rare thing, startled almost when it comes out. ]

Quite right. [ he admits a moment after. ]

If I were a younger man, I'd suggest starting a team.

[enarms]

[ Thomas' laughter is met with a grin, and lightness it brings gives John plenty of room to parry back, half-frowning through his smile. ]

Oh, sod off. If you can patrol the red light district, you can play a game of rugby.

[ettersberg]

[ thomas does, in fact, box regularly, so he is in very good shape for someone his age. even for someone his apparent age. ]

In patrolling I have the benefit of magic.

[ but he is still smirking just so, undercutting the weight of his argument. ]

[enarms]

And you're telling me you've not got a spell ferreted away somewhere in there for cheating at rugger.

[ come on now, do you think he was born yesterday?

whether or not John truly expects such a spell actually exists (he doesn't) or that Thomas would actually use it (he doesn't) or that he'd even need to (who knows? but not as a fitness aid, John has personal experience of that much), isn't the point. the point is, this back and forth is good fun. ]

[ettersberg]

I could have.

[ john is right, though: thomas would not actually use it eve if he did. though he's quite certain he could think of a spell — a shield spell, maybe, making him virtually untouchable. ]

[enarms]

Course you could.

[ and here John finds himself settling into the old ease of flirtation, equal playing field restored, and it's good. the current bubbling along at the meeting of streams: friendly banter and the idle catch of something else. ]

i know nothing about rugby, NOTHING

[ettersberg]

I do have an idea or two, in fact.

[ thomas allows himself to keep grinning. ]

me TOO let's never research this and pretend we did

[enarms]

Go on, then. Regale me.

[ it's notable, and John's enjoying how it lasts. it's nearly enough to make him feel smug. ]

perfect

[ettersberg]

There are spells, for example, for propelling an object through space. And others to fix it in place.

[enarms]

[ — hang on, that startles a laugh out of him. ]

That's dirty. You could fix the ball so nobody else could move it?

[ettersberg]

Easily.

[ seeing john laugh feels like an accomplishment, though john's more forthcoming with the expression than thomas himself. ]

We used to practice it on apples. If done well, they stay in place even when hit with a baseball bat.

[enarms]

[ that's incredible. if anyone had said that to him a couple of hours ago, with magic a far away unfamiliar and uncomfortable reality of this new world, he would've scoffed. now, at least in present company, it's something real and substantial, and the idea of apples kept magically still against the impending force of something as everyday as a baseball bat -

calling it "magical" is a waste of words, but John's touched by something of what it might be like to feel the bright awe associated with the stuff. there's smothered joy layered into his voice. ]

Jesus. The ricochet on that must've been fun.

[ hit at an apple expecting it to fly or explode and it just stands still, all that force has to go somewhere. ]

[ettersberg]

I'd be happy to demonstrate, if you'd like to try it for yourself.

[ another glance around. ]

Another time, that is.

[enarms]

[ John's grin takes on a slanted edge. what are the bloody chances that he'd come out of this with an offer to play with some magicked items and be excited about it. ]

Another time. Alright.

[ettersberg]

[ thomas inclines his head. there's a hint of a smile still lingering on his lips. he doesn't try to hide it. ]

Applying it to rugby would most certainly sway the game in my favour.

[enarms]

Yeah. Good job we'd have law enforcement on hand to curb this rampant abuse of magical talent.

[ that's you, Thomas. you'll be the cheater and the ref in one, what luck. ]

[ettersberg]

Involving law enforcement tasked with dealing with magic? A wise move.

[ except, y'know. that's definitely him. the slant of his eyebrows says he knows it, too. ]

[enarms]

Full of wisdom, me.

[ a smiling swallow of wine. he's having a whale of a time. ]

[ettersberg]

So it would seem.

[ thomas follows john's example, unconsciously mirroring him. ]

[enarms]

[ the night goes on well. they eat, chat, stick to wine. when conversation lulls, the quiets are companionable, rarely awkward, and often they're peppered with the unexpected catch of eye contact or one or other of them spotting the other watching their mouth or their hands or their face.

by the time the bill's paid (John fakes a trip to the loo to cover it, not giving Thomas a look in, assuring him he can get the next one) and they wander out into the evening, John's pleasantly warm from wine and company, spirits buoyed.

so it's not really much of a problem for him to ask, delivery casual enough, ]

Are you far from here?

[ John had been to Thomas' place in Wyver, but he's no idea where he's living here. as a cover, it's fine, but it's fairly transparent that John might not be quite ready to part ways yet. ]

[ettersberg]

[ the night goes on well and if their ways would part now, thomas would call it a good evening and a success despite the fact that he's not quite ready or willing to let it end yet, either. there have been too many moments of their eyes catching, of john looking at his lips or vice-versa for thomas not to want to lean in and kiss him again. not to want for john to crowd him against a wall again. ]

Some ten minutes walking, or so.

[ a beat, and he says (quite casually as well) ] It's a lovely walk.

[enarms]

[ the hitch of his lips is immediate: good. ]

It's been a while since I've been for a night-time stroll.

[ that's not dishonest either, it has. most night he's shut up in his office from early evening until the crack of dawn. but maybe now the prospect of a walk isn't the first cause for the stretching of his smile. ]

Lead the way.

[ which, he realises now, may or may not be a direct echo to something said on that night a month or so (two? God, who knows) ago. he isn't sure. it feels like it could be, though, and the thought of that has his expression take on fresh mirth - and the subtle shift of the onset of anticipation. of what, he doesn't know yet, but of the fact that it'll almost definitely be something. something he can remember the thrill of. something he'd very much like to revisit. ]

[ettersberg]

[ it reminds thomas of the night in wyver he'd led john to his small apartment there. tonight, the urgency and need he'd felt then is lacking, or it's softer, less immediate but more genuine for it. it's all him, them, he thinks, instead of something in the air affecting them, breaking down their resolve.

he returns john's smile, still for a moment before he spurs himself into action and starts moving.

somewhere along the path to his place — past some picturesque and nearly quaint houses and a little park — his hand brushes against john's. it's not accidental, but it isn't an attempt at taking john's hand. it's just contact. a reminder that he's here.

acknowledgement, too, of the anticipation building inside him. ]