[open] I'll be here waiting with basmati rice

[boffing]

CHARACTERS ▶ Dorian Pavus & William Tsang
LOCATION ▶ A market level
SUMMARY ▶ A case of mistaken identity.
WARNINGS ▶ Rated PG-13 for mentions of sex/work I suppose
NOTES ▶ Everyone should drop and find their character re-apped all the time no don't !! I love everyone at this bar.

Dorian.

[The voice behind the teacher sounds funnily authoritative, quite serious. However, the moment Dorian starts to turn... or at least, at the moment that his profile becomes apparent, the mysterious voice gives way to,] Holy shite. You're back. [By the time Dorian gets a proper look at him, said voice has developed a body.

Which is tucking itself under his arm, like a cat who intends to be disarming; more disarming than your video-game controller or your laptop. Me, me. Pay attention to me. William smiles upward at Dorian, who is slightly taller.

He is toting his backpack around, which means he was about for trade. Zion's trade levels are not visibly more expansive than Antioch's but it's a little different. Everything is a little closer together, the empty stalls fewer, less ostentatious displays. It won't be incredibly long before Zion runs into a problem of space, and it's slowly beginning to show. The shopkeeper who'd been trying to get Dorian to purchase some shoes-- cotton, lined, very comfortable-- ends up glaring at William, disgruntled by the interruption.

William fails entirely to notice. In my next tag his hand is gonna be on Dorian's butt and his mouth on his cheek unless Dorian does something about it precariously quick.] Are you coming to my party, [William asks.] Please tell me you're coming to my party. I got the base boats commissioned but the competitors have got to paint them and fucking nobody gets the paint in weird places jokes. Also I'm a bit worried protesters are going to turn the whole thing into a political cluster. If someone lobs color powder at a Councilor, it might be on me.

And it might get in our fucking drinking water. [William appears to be taking the dissolution of a handful of food-safe color in a vast body of water as seriously as a political kettle boilover, but he lacks a sense of proportion in many levels really. People don't really keep him around because he's bright.]

Comments

[besmirches]

[It had been two years since anyone had called him Dorian. It's disarming, and he bristles a bit, looking over the other man. Oh, he was attractive, for certain, and Gideon couldn't complain entirely too much about that.

Still, Dorian.

Gideon leans back from him, just a bit, enough to get a good look at him, and he furrows his brow a bit, shaking his head. The party talk goes a bit over his head, but he blinks at him.]

I'm sorry, have we met?

[boffing]

[Whaat. Wuut. William looks understandably confused, his eyebrows curling and mouth falling open slightly, idiotically, until it clamps shut again.] Oh, [he says. He leans back a bit too, but like Gideon, it's only a bit; not all the way or even very far. Gideon looks like Dorian. Even sounds like him, although the accent is perhaps slightly different.

A beat.

He theorizes shortly afterward that he's being pranked.] William, [he says.] I-- yes. Yes. You can put in your fucking punch line now, [he adds, making a face.]

[besmirches]

Oh, I haven't had time to even prepare a proper punchline.

[He chuckles softly, and offers him a slight smile.]

My name is Gideon.

[Not Dorian. He wasn't that man anymore. Gideon, he thinks, is like a skin he wears, a persona that is entirely the man he truly is, stripped away from the past that haunted him in Thedas, away from the things that bound and chained him to Tevinter, to the Pavus legacy.

Gideon is a better man. When he finally allowed himself to shed his past, it was like discovering that his head had been held underwater for so many years. He could finally breathe.

Identity was a difficult thing, for Dorian. Dorian had his life dictated for him since he was a child. He was defined by names and titles, of caste standings he had no control over.

Gideon was man who was able to decide who he was, away from all of that.]

I'm from Antioch...I just recently arrived.

[He drapes an arm around William's waist, though, and he smirks a bit.]

But if this is the welcome I'm to receive, I decidedly cannot complain.

[boffing]

[William blinks. Whaaat.]

Whaaaat.

[But he's already smiling, interpreting some of what Gideon is throwing out with accuracy (the hand around his waist, the curl of his mouth under that moustache, which he has always liked) even if much of the subtext and context goes straight over his head. Name change, new city of origin. There are plenty of unplugged who'd clue in enough to guess, but William instead says,] You look just like one of my clients, mate. His name was Dorian, and he was from 'round here.

But you might have a better arse, [he says generously, and however vapid and clueless he might come across, there's clear enough light in the way that he dips a smile nearer to Gideon's face. And he hooks a forefinger on the back seat pocket of Gideon's trousers, reciprocating the half-hold, a little more tactful than grabbing himself a handful.] I can't quite tell from here.

I'm William.

[besmirches]

Ah, I'm certain I do.

[And he smiles, even as the proverbial wheels are turning in his head and he's trying to puzzle it out to himself, Certainly, he wasn't one to think of alternate timelines and the like to be too farfetched.

Curious.]

I'm pleased to meet you, William. And...and sort of services do you offer to these clients, if I might ask? Consider me intrigued.

[boffing]

Oh, you know, [because this is Zion and you can talk like this. live like this. It's nice that way,] we fuck.

[It's not particular to Zion, though, that people in his profession can look at a handsome man as if they would rather like to fuck him, and for that to be true, despite that the appearance of interest is nearly identical to that which they might present a less handsome man.] Or whatever, [he adds relevantly. Though not a creature of great imagination, it's a natural course of thought (even for someone who isn't a natural thinker) to wonder how Gideon and Dorian might differ in their tastes.]

Or, you know. [Props.] Other shit. We sort it out beforehand or we figure it out during-- as long as they like me to be a part of it. [It's not a misrepresentation, really. William is a flexible and accommodating person, and his smile appears to be saying that he would like to flex and accommodate all over Gideon's charming person.]

--you should come to my party anyway.

[besmirches]

[Gideon chuckles softly. He was no stranger to that, and William reminds him keenly of the elves and humans kept in the pleasure houses of Minrathos. Most of them reminded him of affectionate cats, much like William, men and women kept because they were beautiful and charming.

He reminds him of someone he knew once, but...that was many years ago, now. Even if he can still see thick, braided jet black hair and blue-green eyes set in a face the color of fine whiskey- and Rilienus was every bit as intoxicating as that. Many years had passed, and he could still remember the soft purr of the elf's voice, could still recall the almost chiming of his golden bangles and jewelry.

Gideon looks down at William, and he pulls him against his hip for just a moment, fondly, and he chuckles.]

Could I possibly refuse an invitation like that? Very well. And perhaps we ought to work out an arrangement for the two of us, hmm?

[He smirks.]

[boffing]

[William doesn't have bangles. Maybe he'd like bangles. Someone should mention bangles to him.

It's odd, isn't it-- this version, this Gideon, has been out of the Matrix much longer than the other man he'd been with, but the debonair hasn't worn off him yet. Charm goes both ways. The Real usually scours it away eventually, the food too simple, the sky too far away, not enough physical luxuries or social stratifications to provide the nourishment that real glamor needs to thrive. But Gideon has-- a. certain. something.

Either that, or William isn't used to people bothering much to flirt with him, or making it look effortless, like it's no bother at all. He looks at Gideon for a few long seconds, not thinking to say anything, reminded of gala crystalware and social games that he used to envy a long time ago, but free of the velvet glove and careful arm's length. Indeed, Dorian's arm is close. And his chest. And his face. And-- stuff.]

Yes, [he says, catching himself smiling, and it looks very sweet for an instant before it creases up into something ridiculous, the way people get when they know they're being ridiculous and are wont to do it anyway.] There's a hole in my life shaped just like you, [he says, dropping his arm from around Gideon's waist.]

[besmirches]

[Gideon chuckles softly, taking a step back and inclining his head a bit.]

The business isn't the fun part, but do you contract? What is the arrangement here, I'm curious?

[He wasn't unfamiliar with a written agreement. In Minrathos, things like this were often dealt with like business arrangements, and, indeed, the business of selling sex was a lively trade.]

lmk if too assume!

[boffing]

Mostly I do about an afternoon at a time now, [William says, but he looks thoughtful now, studying Gideon.

Or, you know. As thoughtful as he can be, while still being William. It depends remains unspoken, but easily inferred between the lines when he asks Gideon--] What's it you do these days? Now that, you know.

You ain't a fucking brilliant magician, quite. [Finally catching on to the whole 'new identity, kinda secrets maybe' thing, he cooperates enough to lower his voice slightly when he says this.]