( 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]

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. ]