When the world is too dark

[anthophilia]

[ The Evergreen has a strong no-assholes policy. This is undermined somewhat by the fact that Nick basically runs it now, but it means he can use himself as a gauge. If anyone’s a bigger asshole than he is, they get kicked out.

Steve is the kind of asshole who should have been kicked out way earlier. That’s on Nick. He was over-cautious, cut the guy too much of a break, because running this bar is the only thing that has him making enough cash to keep up with his responsibilities. He’d worried that word would get around that The Evergreen wasn’t a friendly place anymore, and he’d ruin the reputation Al had carefully built up for it over the years, drive customers away. And it’s not just because Al’s basically promised him the place and it’s his future he’s gambling on, but respect for Al. He built Nick sure as he built up this bar, and the very least Nick can do in return is not tank it. And in fairness, Steve had started slow: the kind of coarse jokes that are mean instead of funny, taking sly digs at people. Way too much flirting with women beyond the point it became clear that they didn’t want to be flirted with, at least not by Steve. Nick finally found his balls the night he’d rounded the corner to check there was enough paper in the johns and seen Steve caging a girl in against the wall, face leaning in even though hers was twisted adamantly away. He’d grabbed the man by collar and belt with no regard for the fact that Steve had a good three inches and 20 pounds on him, marched him out the door, and told him not to come back, ever.

Which means that Steve is now going on the Wall of Shame, and he’d been such a dick about it Nick wants to make it a special occasion. There’s a little florist across the street that’s probably gonna close down any day now, judging by the amount of foot traffic they get, so before opening the next day Nick heads over to give them a little last bit of support. There’s a little bell that rings cutely as he pushes the door open, a blast of welcome cool, fragrant air, and… the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes on behind the counter. Blond hair in one of those trendy cuts that look goofy on most people that aren’t pop stars but somehow suits him just right, big eyes shaded with long lashes, a sweet little beauty mark.

Nick stops dead just inside the door, confident that if he takes one more step without preparation he’s gonna trip over his own feet. ]

Comments

[spiculatus]

[ business is... slow.

which is okay! vash is absolutely, totally, almost-definitely sure that things are gonna pick up any day now. it just takes a while to get things rolling, right? and he's only been open six months, sooo. any day now.

nai had protested this location when vash had picked it out, and sometimes he still drops the occasional nudge about packing up shop and moving downtown. closer to his office, nestled in amid the high-end shops, where window-shoppers are more common and people have money to spend. (plus, he'd said, it'd make it easier for us to eat lunch together every day and that was officially the closest vash had ever come to bending on the issue.)

it's not even a bad part of town, per se. closer to the kind of neighborhood where he and nai had lived with rem; sure, there are places where you shouldn't go at night, and the people here don't have money like they do on the other side of town, but there's still plenty of good. people look out for each other here, learn each other's names, always call out greetings to vash when he's opening the shop in the mornings. and everywhere deserves flowers, not just the rich and glitzy places.

still, it's been a slow day on top of a slow week, and vash is struggling not to yawn where he sits perched at the counter. he's already swept the floor (twice), gone through the routine of checking in on each of the plants (watering them, pruning the ones that need it, chattering to them about the latest episode of the spaghetti western he's been keeping them all up-to-date on), and even rearranged the window display for good measure. maybe he should clean the windows? it's officially his least favorite chore, but --

then the bell above the door chimes out, and vash's head snaps up. ]

Welcome to Seeds! [ brightly, his best customer service voice. ]

[spiculatus]

[ vash lucks way out when wolfwood is still down to come hang out on friday night even after watching him get kidnapped.

it takes some clearing up! which he probably should have done immediately, but he'd been preoccupied with ruining legato's attempt at a lecture by kicking the back of his seat the entire way home. and then he does sit very politely through the lecture nai lays on him once he's back home -- mumbling sorry, sorry while nai grills him about not checking in and going out alone. and then! even though he is definitely not drunk, he does end up crashing facefirst on his bed and taking something suspiciously close to a drunk nap for about two hours.

and by the time he wakes up and remembers to plug in his phone, he's got a handful of missed calls and a pile of increasingly worried texts from wolfwood, which makes him feel guilty and warm all over.

so! he persists in inviting him over on friday night, because nai's almost always out 'til late, and they can hang out and watch a movie or something, then crash and head to the orphanage together in the morning. it's perfect! a plan with literally no flaws!

except now that friday night is actually here, vash is a jittery mess of nerves. he showers to make sure he can scrub the dirt out from under his nails, stresses over what to wear until he throws on a pair of sweats and a sweater that's both great for snuggling and also hopefully suggests that he is Totally Cool about this whole thing, and then makes a lame attempt at straightening the pillows on the sofa just because he's at a loss for what else to do.

it would probably be very cool of him to wait a few seconds after the door buzzes, just to hammer home the idea that he's a very cool guy dripping with game. instead, vash bounds over to it like an overgrown labrador, throwing it open and beaming. ]

Hi!

[coillier]

[ vash has never been very good at hiding anything from him.

and really, knives doesn't know if his baby brother has ever tried?

why should he, after all? what can one half hide from its mirrored reflection, what secrets shouldn't they lay bare? it's never mattered that there are parts of his own life that knives keeps shadowed from his twin; it isn't hypocrisy when it's for vash's own good, when the knowledge would only be a burden and a torment. if vash wanted to know, there is nothing knives wouldn't show him, but that's not what vash asks of him. he's always leaned into his older brother's hands, asked knives to cup them around his eyes and provide blinders for his periphery. vash has never wanted to see the ugliest parts of the world, and it's never been a burden to shield him.

still, this clumsy farce might be the closest his brother has strayed towards duplicity, and it pricks knives' attention. it starts when he delays from coming directly home after his shop's usual closing time, and legato reports tersely that he's ventured into the bar across the street. curious, but not concerning; vash is a moth drawn hopelessly towards the tempting light of company, and it's not a terribly dangerous urge to indulge. more curious is the way his little brother has someone added to the list of permitted visitors for their home, but knives begins to pay real attention when vash tries to make sure it won't be reported on. (of course, the man had called him the moment vash had left his office, but the attempt alone makes it worth noting.)

knives runs the name. nicholas d. wolfwood. an orphan with no parents on record, a ward of st. michael's orphanage. one brother registered to him by law and not blood. a few smudges on his criminal record as a juvenile; sealed, but no real challenge to have opened up for his curiosity. a few years logged at seminary before he'd left it, and not because he'd been struggling academically. a lapse of faith, maybe? it isn't particularly relevant, but it adds a little color. pitiable finances, mostly because it seems that the man redirects most of the profits from his bar toward the task of putting his brother through school. unremarkable overall, but the qualities in other people that snag vash's attention rarely follow any lines of logic.

there are at least a hundred ways to handle this, direct and indirect. but protecting vash is a balancing act -- if knives draws the leash around his brother's neck too tight, vash remembers that it's there. too lax, and knives runs the risk of letting someone damage vash in a way that won't even prove instructional. if this man represented any reasonable threat, knives wouldn't hesitate to interfere, but.

for now, he doesn't see any real risk in letting this play out a little longer, until he can get a better idea where he might benefit.

it doesn't mean knives is expecting the stranger to stay the night. it's a first for vash -- he'd had a friend or two back to the apartment when he'd been in college, mostly study partners or project groups. but none of them ever stayed over, and the break in routine makes knives itch. he knows the man is still here from the moment he slips into the apartment and closes the door behind him; he's had years of attuning his senses towards any possible change in his environment, filtering through information to sift out any threats, and the presence of someone else in their home is almost a physical thing. unsettling, uncomfortable, unfamiliar. vash has overstepped a boundary, and even though knives forgives him for it, it's a jagged edge in their relationship that knives will have to file carefully back down.

impossible to sleep with someone else here. but it's late (early) enough for sleep to be all but a moot point anyway; knives has never required much of it. so he sets himself to his morning routine instead -- works out, showers, dresses, bides his time attending to a few work details that require his attention, and then, finally, baits his trap.

breakfast for vash, something that he likes -- a tofu and veggie scramble, presented at an hour where the smell of food is likely to rouse him. and then knives settles down to wait at their kitchen table, opening up a collection of reports on his phone and turning half his attention towards them. time to wait and see. ]