[Idly, when Gustave cuts himself off once again, Verso wonders what the tally is of times he's toed that line only to pull himself back. Not that he blames him, of course, only that the more it happens the more concerned he grows. There are things one keeps inside oneself that nest therein, comforted by the thought of never seeing the light of day. And then there are those that are corrosive no matter whether they're held in or released into open ears, rising and falling and rising and falling, leaving little real room for relief. There's little doubt in his mind which one of those Gustave's death favours.
That still isn't the point of the conversation, but it is getting a bit harder to ignore each time it comes up, especially in the silence that follows. A silence that Verso maintains a little while longer, even after Gustave finds the rest of his words, his own delay owing to him trying to figure out what, exactly, to say.
An apology rests on his tongue, one that he has full intention of speaking, but giving it context requires more thought. Once, coming up with a deft deception would have been easy for him; these days, however, it's growing harder and harder to see the point in hiding himself away. He looks down at his own hands and thinks about all the things he'd tried to accomplish, both when he still believed in his own nobility and after, and all those he'd failed to bring about. Look what lying has earned you in the end, he thinks. Look how it's only caused everyone around you to suffer.
So, honesty it is, then.]
Still, I wish I'd done more. I'm sorry I didn't. Wasn't sure how welcomed I'd be after what happened on the beach, so I figured I'd keep an eye on you instead, make sure you got to the manor all right since I knew Maelle was safe with her father. But, you know, hindsight, right?
[Gustave's brows knit together as he looks back at Verso. He hadn't really expected any kind of reaction, but especially not an apology. The early days on the Continent were difficult, to be sure, but after that message giving them - or at least Gustave - a metaphorical kick in the pants to go somewhere, they made good progress. Meeting Noco told them how to get to the Gestral Village and Golgra. Golgra directed them toward Esquie's Nest for his help. Francois, of all people - of all creatures - put the Stone Wave Cliffs as their next objective. They all managed to keep moving, to keep getting just a little bit closer to the Monolith and the Paintress.
Would it have been nice to have had a guide, someone who knew the world perhaps even better than the Gestrals or Esquie, to get them to their goal? Of course. Maybe they wouldn't have wasted so much time wandering the Ancient Sanctuary trying to find the Gestral Village. But they still found their way.
Gustave's expression softens.]
You did enough. We were able to continue, thanks to you.
[Though, Verso's other point earns him an acquiescent hum and tilt of the head.]
I want to believe that I would have given you a chance had you come to us then, but...
[He can be honest, too. Gustave doesn't always live up to his own expectations or ideals of others, or himself. He lifts a shoulder in a little shrug and laughs softly.]
But I probably would have been pretty wary of you. Defensive. One unknown Expeditioner had already proven himself a threat, who was to say he acted alone, right?
[That's just good logic, and reasonable expectation. That constant sense of danger really put a damper on the beauty of the world, though, and Gustave's own curiosity. Add that to his list of regrets from his former life. But, like Verso said, hindsight.]
Yeah. It's hard to wrestle with it. And far too easy to get bogged down by thinking of what you could have done instead. I don't know if it helps, but I try to remind myself that, at the time, I did what I thought was best. I didn't have all the information, so I acted on what I did have and what I could see as potential outcomes. It's...sometimes it's an act of forgiving yourself. And that's hard, too, but... Well, that's another subject.
[The words Gustave uses in affirmation are too similar to the ones Verso had clung to on the Stone Wave Cliffs as he watched Gustave's desperate struggle to survive; they land like a barrage of bullets to the chest, accelerating his heartbeat and shortening his breath. All the guilt he'd been trying to hold back in his earlier apology bleeds through, and he can only think, at first, how shitty it is of him to be sitting here with the man who's borne the worst of the consequences of his distancing, wallowing in a regret that he doesn't deserve comfort for yet that he's being advised on how to forgive himself over all the same.
Stop it, he wants to say. You don't know what I've done. To say so would be even more selfish than to say nothing, though, for how it's driven more by Verso's desire to assuage his guilt than by a genuine belief that it's for the best. And though there is an oppressive itch in his mind pointing out that this silence draws from the same motivations and justifications he regrets claiming, it feels different. This isn't a lie to armour himself against his own actions or control the narrative, it's one to protect Gustave from a hurt he doesn't need to experience. Telling him would accomplish nothing.
Resolving that is easier than pulling himself together, but he finds some promise in focusing on the generalities of what Gustave is saying, the easy relatability of choice and forgiveness and regret. All he has to do is agree, right? Toss in some thoughts of his own?]
Yeah.
[It is such a small, light lie, one word, one syllable, one intent, yet it has weight enough that his voice breaks under the pressure of its speaking and no more words follow. He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry. But he doesn't expect forgiveness, doesn't want it, doesn't deserve it from anyone, least of all Gustave. Which should make it easy for him to pull himself together as he always does when his emotions feel like impositions, but he is tired, so fucking tired, and he's had too much to drink, and the contrast of how relaxed he'd felt moments ago to how sick he feels now makes everything feel a little more futile, and it all dominates the space around and inside of him. Verso can't find anything to grasp onto in order to pull himself out of this.
So, he lets out a self-admonishing laugh as he leans forward, resting his arms on his legs and his head in his hands, and he wills himself to offer another apology he doesn't deserve to make.]
Sorry, I... It's been a long day.
[A long life, really. Much too long of one. He really is exhausted. Still, he lifts his head and offers a slight, apologetic smile.]
[Maybe Gustave got a little carried away there, offering more advice than is necessary. Verso is a grown man, after all, but he puts it down to simple habit. When he and Emma had taken Maelle in, he assumed his role once more of older brother, being her guide in a world that had been anything but stable and consistent. Maelle wasn't...a difficult child, not in Gustave's opinion, but rather unmoored. Adrift. Afraid, too, of latching onto anyone else by the time she came into his life. He just needed patience and understanding, and that willingness to try when it seemed everyone else had given up on her.
And more recently, with Henri, though Gustave still isn't sure he knows how to be a father, he's fallen back into the role of mentor. Raising his son has been different from raising Maelle, of course, since he's known Henri since he was born, but a part of it has been made easier because of his time fostering. Though his life may not be the richest or full of countless experiences, he still finds he can draw from enough to help and relate.
Again, Verso probably doesn't need it. He's lived far longer than Gustave ever has, maybe more than he ever will, and lived through far more. His answering affirmation doesn't surprise Gustave, either; this is probably nothing groundbreaking for him.
Except his voice breaks. Gustave leans forward slightly, as if that change in posture will help in any way. Something inside his chest aches for the man despite not knowing why. All Gustave really suspects is they're not speaking of the same thing anymore. Why would Verso feel so terribly over not meeting the 33s face-to-face earlier than he had? Things had turned out okay until Renoir caught up to them again.
There's no way he'll know without bluntly asking and with the new apology given, as well as that clear sendoff, Gustave doesn't dare pry further. Besides, Verso is right, and has clearly reached the end of his social rope. If that isn't Gustave's cue, then he doesn't know what is.]
Right. Yeah. It's late, isn't it? Soph'll think I fell into a hole somewhere.
[He pushes himself to his feet, a little too quickly judging by how his head swims for a moment from the alcohol still marinating in his system, and takes a moment to collect himself. Looking down at Verso, he wants to stay, regardless. Offer a silent presence while the other man works through whatever's going on in his head. He's done it for Maelle and Sciel before, and Sophie, too, but the difference here is that Verso isn't his friend. Even if he's been invited into this apartment, it was more of a social call. And that dismissal, however incompletely given, is final enough.]
Thanks, though. For the drink and the pastry. And the time. It's been...
[Well, nice doesn't feel quite right, but there are worse ways either of them could spend their night, he's sure.]
It's been good.
[That seems a decent compromise. He pats his thighs and takes a few steps toward the door, but turns back.]
I'll let you get some rest. We both probably need it. But, um...I hope to see you around. Have another drink or something, or... Yeah.
[Another moment of hesitation, but then Gustave nods to himself and sees himself out.]
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no subject
That still isn't the point of the conversation, but it is getting a bit harder to ignore each time it comes up, especially in the silence that follows. A silence that Verso maintains a little while longer, even after Gustave finds the rest of his words, his own delay owing to him trying to figure out what, exactly, to say.
An apology rests on his tongue, one that he has full intention of speaking, but giving it context requires more thought. Once, coming up with a deft deception would have been easy for him; these days, however, it's growing harder and harder to see the point in hiding himself away. He looks down at his own hands and thinks about all the things he'd tried to accomplish, both when he still believed in his own nobility and after, and all those he'd failed to bring about. Look what lying has earned you in the end, he thinks. Look how it's only caused everyone around you to suffer.
So, honesty it is, then.]
Still, I wish I'd done more. I'm sorry I didn't. Wasn't sure how welcomed I'd be after what happened on the beach, so I figured I'd keep an eye on you instead, make sure you got to the manor all right since I knew Maelle was safe with her father. But, you know, hindsight, right?
no subject
Would it have been nice to have had a guide, someone who knew the world perhaps even better than the Gestrals or Esquie, to get them to their goal? Of course. Maybe they wouldn't have wasted so much time wandering the Ancient Sanctuary trying to find the Gestral Village. But they still found their way.
Gustave's expression softens.]
You did enough. We were able to continue, thanks to you.
[Though, Verso's other point earns him an acquiescent hum and tilt of the head.]
I want to believe that I would have given you a chance had you come to us then, but...
[He can be honest, too. Gustave doesn't always live up to his own expectations or ideals of others, or himself. He lifts a shoulder in a little shrug and laughs softly.]
But I probably would have been pretty wary of you. Defensive. One unknown Expeditioner had already proven himself a threat, who was to say he acted alone, right?
[That's just good logic, and reasonable expectation. That constant sense of danger really put a damper on the beauty of the world, though, and Gustave's own curiosity. Add that to his list of regrets from his former life. But, like Verso said, hindsight.]
Yeah. It's hard to wrestle with it. And far too easy to get bogged down by thinking of what you could have done instead. I don't know if it helps, but I try to remind myself that, at the time, I did what I thought was best. I didn't have all the information, so I acted on what I did have and what I could see as potential outcomes. It's...sometimes it's an act of forgiving yourself. And that's hard, too, but... Well, that's another subject.
no subject
Stop it, he wants to say. You don't know what I've done. To say so would be even more selfish than to say nothing, though, for how it's driven more by Verso's desire to assuage his guilt than by a genuine belief that it's for the best. And though there is an oppressive itch in his mind pointing out that this silence draws from the same motivations and justifications he regrets claiming, it feels different. This isn't a lie to armour himself against his own actions or control the narrative, it's one to protect Gustave from a hurt he doesn't need to experience. Telling him would accomplish nothing.
Resolving that is easier than pulling himself together, but he finds some promise in focusing on the generalities of what Gustave is saying, the easy relatability of choice and forgiveness and regret. All he has to do is agree, right? Toss in some thoughts of his own?]
Yeah.
[It is such a small, light lie, one word, one syllable, one intent, yet it has weight enough that his voice breaks under the pressure of its speaking and no more words follow. He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry. But he doesn't expect forgiveness, doesn't want it, doesn't deserve it from anyone, least of all Gustave. Which should make it easy for him to pull himself together as he always does when his emotions feel like impositions, but he is tired, so fucking tired, and he's had too much to drink, and the contrast of how relaxed he'd felt moments ago to how sick he feels now makes everything feel a little more futile, and it all dominates the space around and inside of him. Verso can't find anything to grasp onto in order to pull himself out of this.
So, he lets out a self-admonishing laugh as he leans forward, resting his arms on his legs and his head in his hands, and he wills himself to offer another apology he doesn't deserve to make.]
Sorry, I... It's been a long day.
[A long life, really. Much too long of one. He really is exhausted. Still, he lifts his head and offers a slight, apologetic smile.]
Maybe you should, you know...
no subject
And more recently, with Henri, though Gustave still isn't sure he knows how to be a father, he's fallen back into the role of mentor. Raising his son has been different from raising Maelle, of course, since he's known Henri since he was born, but a part of it has been made easier because of his time fostering. Though his life may not be the richest or full of countless experiences, he still finds he can draw from enough to help and relate.
Again, Verso probably doesn't need it. He's lived far longer than Gustave ever has, maybe more than he ever will, and lived through far more. His answering affirmation doesn't surprise Gustave, either; this is probably nothing groundbreaking for him.
Except his voice breaks. Gustave leans forward slightly, as if that change in posture will help in any way. Something inside his chest aches for the man despite not knowing why. All Gustave really suspects is they're not speaking of the same thing anymore. Why would Verso feel so terribly over not meeting the 33s face-to-face earlier than he had? Things had turned out okay until Renoir caught up to them again.
There's no way he'll know without bluntly asking and with the new apology given, as well as that clear sendoff, Gustave doesn't dare pry further. Besides, Verso is right, and has clearly reached the end of his social rope. If that isn't Gustave's cue, then he doesn't know what is.]
Right. Yeah. It's late, isn't it? Soph'll think I fell into a hole somewhere.
[He pushes himself to his feet, a little too quickly judging by how his head swims for a moment from the alcohol still marinating in his system, and takes a moment to collect himself. Looking down at Verso, he wants to stay, regardless. Offer a silent presence while the other man works through whatever's going on in his head. He's done it for Maelle and Sciel before, and Sophie, too, but the difference here is that Verso isn't his friend. Even if he's been invited into this apartment, it was more of a social call. And that dismissal, however incompletely given, is final enough.]
Thanks, though. For the drink and the pastry. And the time. It's been...
[Well, nice doesn't feel quite right, but there are worse ways either of them could spend their night, he's sure.]
It's been good.
[That seems a decent compromise. He pats his thighs and takes a few steps toward the door, but turns back.]
I'll let you get some rest. We both probably need it. But, um...I hope to see you around. Have another drink or something, or... Yeah.
[Another moment of hesitation, but then Gustave nods to himself and sees himself out.]