"You've reached Gustave. I am not available at this time, but feel free to leave me a, what is it, a 'voicemail'? Clever... Ah, I will respond promptly. ร bientรดt."
[To be completely fair, the speeding motorcycle that growls down the street, its engine rumbling louder and louder, does come to a slow as it nears Gustave. Atop it rides Verso, who is no longer donned in his Expedition uniform โ but rather a linen button-up shirt and plain airy slacks, which he had stolen away from the newest diffusion zone just a few days prior.
He straightens as he comes to a stop, flashing Gustave his default smile as he places both shoes on the pavement to keep his ride balanced. He wears his casual, unaffected mask with ease.]
Bonsoir.
[Notably, he has not bothered to seek a place to park, or to kill the engine. A gesture to the empty space behind him; big enough for two.]
So, I realized we can walk... or we can ride.
[The thing about having a motorcycle means that parking is a lot less of a trial. He can roll it into any space that fits.]
( the gesture comes easily, a light wave, bonsoir, the language they speak back in lumiรจre a comfort to him especially now in this new world afflicted by too many transient peoples, cultures, histories, artifacts. seeing verso on his motorcycle makes gustave thankful that maelle, at the very least, has a car. these contraptions seem a little too untethered for his liking.
he glances at the seat behind him, and shrugs. )
It's your gas.
( and how damn expensive it seems to be.
gustave adjusts himself behind the man, the cold feeling of his mechanical arm gripping just over his shoulder. )
[So. He should probably not mention how, on day one, he sped along too fast, wiped out, and landed himself and his bike in a ditch.]
Very comfortable.
[...he just waits for Gustave to take his seat and hold on tight, ignoring the associations that buoy up in his mind when he feels the grip of that mechanical arm. A lost brother. A grave. All the pain that came rolling in because of it.]
I made it here in one piece, didn't I? Besides, it's not that far.
( without knowing that this is something that would otherwise dig knife of guilt further into verso, gustave says this with a sense of levity, some amount of humor. no time to feel conflicted, though, as they are soon on their way.
precarious about verso's abilities in driving regardless of his confidence, gustave keeps to himself to avoid being a distraction, glancing about at the city the goes past them, unfamiliar yet now becoming familiar with each passing day, lacking the architecture he so loves from his home but every head turn offering him some new thing to be fascinated by.
he is more at ease once they come to a stop on the curb. )
[There is a distinct lack of response to that, though it is easily played off by either Verso's focus on driving, or the fact that he needn't respond because the trip it so short. Surely it's one of those things.
They zip down the street, turn down maybe one block or two, and without incident, they arrive at the hole in the wall bar that Verso had described, which is titled fittingly, Hole in the Wall. The outside matches the inside, which is to say, nothing special.]
This is it. Now, I know it doesn't look like much, but trust me... The wine's good. And the bartender's more competent than that other place we visited.
( he knows exactly who verso is referring to. the poor android tried his best, though gustave was more interested in its functionality than in its ability to serve drinks.
stepping off the bike, he dusts off his shirt as he glances up and about the place.
beggars can't be choosers, etc.
once verso has his motorcycle parked and is moving about, gustave will say, shall we?, and make his way inside. the atmosphere definitely feels like a 'hole in the wall', but the bartender greets them most kindly, so it might just be a good sign. up the counter he goes, sitting up on one of the stools there.
at the bartender's remark for what they'll have, gustave turns to verso, )
[He sidles into a barstool next to Gustave, seeming well enough at home in an atmosphere like this one. There were days, long ago, when fancy establishments were his bread and butter, but now? He's more a skrunkly, hole-in-the-wall kinda guy, keeping to himself and his wine glass more often that not.
The bartender seems to recognize him, granting them both friendly grins.]
Ah, Louis, good to see you again. How about the top-shelf stuff you mentioned las time? From the, ah, crate that floated in from one of the old diffusion zones?
[The Bourdeux stuff, Verso? Really looking to treat this friend of yours, eh? He winks. Coming right up.]
Thanks. [Verso flashes him a charming smile in return.] You can just leave the bottle. [A side glance at Gustave soon after-] Apparently, wine and spirits from other diffusion zones surprise the populace now and again. I figured why not be brave and give it a try.
( in the entire back-and-forth, gustave watches in bemusement at how easily acclimated verso seems to have become to the local watering hole and being in the good graces of the procurer of wine and spirits. it seems like something someone from lumiรจre would be far too engrossed in getting right, certainly. )
Might as well.
( once the bottle is brought, along with the glasses, and they are served the wine, gustave takes a moment to look at the bottle. there is french script on the label, which reminds him immediately of him. )
Grand vin, Chรขteau Bellegrave...
( unfamiliar to him, regardless. he turns to verso, placing the bottle down. )
Should be good. ( after all, it's wineโ he grabs at his glass. ) To you, mon ami.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He straightens as he comes to a stop, flashing Gustave his default smile as he places both shoes on the pavement to keep his ride balanced. He wears his casual, unaffected mask with ease.]
Bonsoir.
[Notably, he has not bothered to seek a place to park, or to kill the engine. A gesture to the empty space behind him; big enough for two.]
So, I realized we can walk... or we can ride.
[The thing about having a motorcycle means that parking is a lot less of a trial. He can roll it into any space that fits.]
no subject
he glances at the seat behind him, and shrugs. )
It's your gas.
( and how damn expensive it seems to be.
gustave adjusts himself behind the man, the cold feeling of his mechanical arm gripping just over his shoulder. )
How exactly comfortable are you driving this?
no subject
Very comfortable.
[...he just waits for Gustave to take his seat and hold on tight, ignoring the associations that buoy up in his mind when he feels the grip of that mechanical arm. A lost brother. A grave. All the pain that came rolling in because of it.]
I made it here in one piece, didn't I? Besides, it's not that far.
no subject
( without knowing that this is something that would otherwise dig knife of guilt further into verso, gustave says this with a sense of levity, some amount of humor. no time to feel conflicted, though, as they are soon on their way.
precarious about verso's abilities in driving regardless of his confidence, gustave keeps to himself to avoid being a distraction, glancing about at the city the goes past them, unfamiliar yet now becoming familiar with each passing day, lacking the architecture he so loves from his home but every head turn offering him some new thing to be fascinated by.
he is more at ease once they come to a stop on the curb. )
Is this it?
no subject
They zip down the street, turn down maybe one block or two, and without incident, they arrive at the hole in the wall bar that Verso had described, which is titled fittingly, Hole in the Wall. The outside matches the inside, which is to say, nothing special.]
This is it. Now, I know it doesn't look like much, but trust me... The wine's good. And the bartender's more competent than that other place we visited.
[poor Thomas]
no subject
( he knows exactly who verso is referring to. the poor android tried his best, though gustave was more interested in its functionality than in its ability to serve drinks.
stepping off the bike, he dusts off his shirt as he glances up and about the place.
beggars can't be choosers, etc.
once verso has his motorcycle parked and is moving about, gustave will say, shall we?, and make his way inside. the atmosphere definitely feels like a 'hole in the wall', but the bartender greets them most kindly, so it might just be a good sign. up the counter he goes, sitting up on one of the stools there.
at the bartender's remark for what they'll have, gustave turns to verso, )
You're the expert here, mon ami.
no subject
The bartender seems to recognize him, granting them both friendly grins.]
Ah, Louis, good to see you again. How about the top-shelf stuff you mentioned las time? From the, ah, crate that floated in from one of the old diffusion zones?
[The Bourdeux stuff, Verso? Really looking to treat this friend of yours, eh? He winks. Coming right up.]
Thanks. [Verso flashes him a charming smile in return.] You can just leave the bottle. [A side glance at Gustave soon after-] Apparently, wine and spirits from other diffusion zones surprise the populace now and again. I figured why not be brave and give it a try.
*is revived*
Might as well.
( once the bottle is brought, along with the glasses, and they are served the wine, gustave takes a moment to look at the bottle. there is french script on the label, which reminds him immediately of him. )
Grand vin, Chรขteau Bellegrave...
( unfamiliar to him, regardless. he turns to verso, placing the bottle down. )
Should be good. ( after all, it's wineโ he grabs at his glass. ) To you, mon ami.