Private Conversations

[dominioned]

The confessional before you is ornate and well maintained, ebony colored wood embellished with the visage of two angels. A jet black curtain separates the confessional from the rest of the Church, offering a surprising degree of privacy to any eavesdroppers nearby. Unlike the rest of Krakow, the inside is dimly lit by a small light bulb securely attached to the ceiling which emits a faint red light. While the atmosphere isn't exactly cozy, it is private.

A smooth voice calls out to you once you've sat down, familiar enough to identify the speaker despite the partition between you.

"Welcome welcome. I take it something is on your mind?"

We're in a museum now, Harry.

Comments

[dominioned]

[ Time for that surprised blinking to make a reappearance. He doesn't nudge back at least, and after a second he shakes off his bewilderment with a light exhale. ]

You know very well if I was trying to do either. [ Tipping his head to the side to grin wryly. ]

Ah, just like a thief is supposed to ask before they take something?

[bawcock]

[ What a disaster you are, Rembrandt. You spend so much time with people but have no idea how to behave around people! At least Erik grins back anyway. ]

What, never read that part of the thieves code of honor? It's in the bylaws, you know. Don't steal from other thieves, don't steal from friends, and if you can't avoid either—ask first.

[dominioned]

[ Does he really though, because he's pretty old! Actually yeah, because his eyes go even wider at that one particular word. ]

"Friend"...?

[bawcock]

[ Wow, Rem's eyes are wider than that time he said mook. All it does is make Erik look even smugger!! ]

Need me to define that one for you, too?

[dominioned]

[ He bristles, which causes the branch to sway. ]

Of course not. It's not a word I hear too often in regards to myself, twice is far too much.

[bawcock]

[ Flinging his hand down to grab the branch!! It doesn't help the branch stabilize, but it does help keep him stable. Tempting as further teasing is, bristling like that is never a good sign.

Also, he doesn't want to fall 'cause he's 85% sure Rembrandt won't catch him. ]

That few, huh? That explains... [ A beat. A very conspicuous beat. ] ...a lot.

[dominioned]

[ That's a fair bet. ]

Well, go on. [ The branch is going to move a bit more as he shifts to prop his head in his hands. There's no anger in his expression, but he does look a shade exasperated. ]

[bawcock]

I wonder how closing my eyes, putting my faith in you, and hoping not to get smashed into a thousand pieces will go. [ Not great, he bets. It might be 90% now, coupled with the faint suspicion Rembrandt plans to break the branch on purpose.

He glances warily between the branch and the ground. A shake of his head before looking back up. ]

Go on about what?

[dominioned]

Faith isn't something I have or understand. [ A muted smile peeks through his fingers, though he stays still on the branch. ]

What does it explain?

[bawcock]

Somehow, I don't think I'm the guy to explain it to you. I barely understand it myself. [ That, and what little he does have faith in, he's seen proof of (which technically doesn't even make it faith anymore). The Luminary's amazing—defying all odds, always doing what Erik hopes rather than what he expects, and generally trying his best to help everyone he meets.

Rembrandt's... well, Rembrandt's not any of that. So, naturally, he's now married to the idea of Rembrandt trying to break the branch on purpose. Funny how a strong commitment can change your whole world view and just make you sigh, huh? ]

I'm tempted to take my chances with jumping, but... I did start this. Okay, I was talking about the greenhouse.

[dominioned]

[ His only answer to the first part is to keep smiling. That may be part of it, but even the Luminary couldn't teach Rem about faith. Probably. ]

Oh?

[bawcock]

[ Just as well!! If he Must die, at least his final thoughts will be of the beautiful beautiful Luminary. Except he's not actually going to die so whatever. ]

"Oh" he says. [ A somewhat weary smile. ] Let's do this another way. Say you walk into a dark, secluded garden to meet your buddy. Just as you're looking around, you hear a voice whispering "follow the roses" into your ear.

What's your first thought?

1/2 i blame you for this

[dominioned]

[ There are a couple of fatal errors here, all around. One: the garden wasn't dark, to Rembrandt at least. Two, he may not know understand what friends are but that doesn't mean he's a complete nincampoop when it comes to other areas, no definition needed. Three: as off kilter as he was a moment ago, his recovery time is pretty short.

He laughs. ]

Goodness, is that what you were thinking? Trust me, you would know if I was coming onto you. [ Leaning forward (or sideways in this case), he grabs a hold of whatever fabric he can reach to pull Erik closer. Museums are good for drawing out his red eyes, now laced with a smooth velvet tone. ]

[dominioned]

[ After a mere second he lets go with a full mouthed grin. ]

But that's not the case!

1/2

[bawcock]

[ He's half-disappointed Rembrandt knows how that sounds. If he didn't, Erik would be the one laughing right now! Too bad. Which he barely gets to think before Rembrandt takes his best shot at being sultry and he's being pulled in. ]

Huh?! [ Eloquently put! He's doing his best impression of a deer-in-headlights! His hands flounder for a second before he grabs Rembrandt with one hand—half for balance, half to push him back—and the branch with the other. ]

[bawcock]

[ It takes him a second or two to let go when Rembrandt does. Relieved, he breathes out and makes sure he's steady. ]

Sheesh! Careful with the branch! [ Give him another second to steady himself. ] Anyway, I did get the memo. Eventually. Didn't stop me from being terrified for a full minute that you'd turn around and hand me a rose, though.

[dominioned]

Do I really look like the type? [ His grin has relaxed, no mind being payed at all to the branch. ]

[bawcock]

[ Mind the branch!! Know what though? He's gonna think about this and study Rembrandt. Closely. Carefully. And after his pause ends— ]

Actually... yeah. [ Quite sincerely! What he doesn't add is: yes, if only to throw someone off balance. ]

[dominioned]

N’importe quoi. [ Cause French is the language of love or something and to emphasize how he feels, a rose is getting tossed at Erik's face. It's white. Where did it come from? They're on a branch it's not the biggest stretch! ]

[bawcock]

[ Instinctively reaching up to shield his face!! He grabs the rose after a fumble or two and then stares at it, wholly unimpressed. Hopefully there's no thorns on it! ]

I've been around the block enough times to know what that means. Looks like we share at least one language, eh? [ He holds the rose out to Rembrandt. Take it, he doesn't want it!! ]

[dominioned]

Besides Polish? [ Graciously he accepts the rose and then lights it on fire. And it had no thorns because he has better manners than that! Or something. ]

[bawcock]

If you can even count that one. [ A tragic but fitting end to the tale of the rose (neither of them wanted). ]

[dominioned]

You wound me so, rejecting yet another gift I've given you. [ Essential endgame info, that he's the one who gave you the ability to understand Polish. ]

[bawcock]

Uh, why would you want us to understand Polish? And how the heck did you manage that? [ This doesn't feel like essential endgame info, 0/10! ]

[dominioned]

My secret. [ Finger pressed against his lips. ] I could have given you the ability to speak German, but that seemed pointless given the locale. And if you couldn't converse with it each other that would just be awful, hm?