Legend of Ransera

Time passed. Aurin's meeting next door had been just after the lunch hour, and then there had been enough champagne to fill the time until Lord Yserloo begged off to flit off to some more important event. The new managing director of the Theater already clocked him as relegating Aurin to the Help category, but that was fine—for now. Elric looked interested, and Celisa looked relieved. He agreed he would see them on the morrow to begin the transition, which he imagined he could largely do on his own just having access to the books.

But regardless, while he kept a calm facade, he was elated that his plans were moving forward and the first person he wanted to tell was, he hoped, quite close by. He moved through the Cabaret like breathing was easy, all smirks and jokes and making sure everything in his wake was going smoothly—he had mastered this job, and soon he would give Lunaria notice that he would be moving next door. She might be cross. He had made her life easier, but she could hardly be angry. She had rebuffed his attempts to buy into the business and eventually he knew, even then, that he wouldn't stay forever.

He knocked on Arry's closet door.

Of course, he didn't know that Arry was present, but he hoped. He wanted to share the good news and the good fortune, and Arry was the one who stood to benefit the most from it. Things had been a little strange since Arry made a decision about their relationship, such as it was, but he hoped that proving he was still working to make Arry's life better might help them get back to something like friendship, even if he was mooning after his minstrel and wouldn't want any time in Aurin's bed.

"Milord Arvalyn, are you at home?" he asked. At least he could tempt him out with a fancy dinner, he hoped.

There was a noise, so Arry was home. When he finally deigned to allow Aurin an audience, he let himself in. It was dark but for the light shining in from the hallway behind him, so he squinted as his eyes adjusted.

"Last night must've been a long night," he said, chuckling softly so as not to exacerbate the hangover more than necessary. Seeing as it was almost time for supper, either Arry had been up quite late or over-imbibed. But then an itch in his mind scratched itself when he remembered that Arry hadn't been working last night. The schedule was something that Aurin helped set, after all. So he must have been out with his minstrel, but then he ought to have stayed over if he was in such a bad way.

When his eyes adjusted, they narrowed, "Arry, you look like shit."

And then he was sitting at the edge of the bed, back of his hand to Arry's forehead as if he knew fuck all about bodies except how to make them stop working. Well, and to get certain parts of them hot and bothered.

"What's wrong? What can I get for you?"

He squinted suspiciously as if Arry had done something wrong, but really he was only trying to suss out what was wrong so he could fix it because that was what he did. In his own mind, Arry would always be his responsibility, and it was a reality he took seriously and to heart. He couldn't tell people he loved them, but he could show them. Still and all, they didn't always catch his drift.

As his eyes adjusted even more, he could see the bloodshot suffering in Arry's eyes and it took all his self-control not to panic.

Aurin frowned. He recalled one time Arry had come down with something and all he could do to comfort him was lie next to him, risking illness himself, but willing. Hesitation earned him a nod toward the chair, so he abandoned that idea. Nodding, he got up to close the door, dropping them back into darkness which was probably blessed given Arry's state.

"I could come back," he offered. The news he brought was some of the best news they had had in some time, but perhaps this wasn't the right moment for it. Would Arry thank him for ruining the moment? He didn't know.

In any case, offer or no offer, he settled into the chair and let his senses filter through his rune passively. If he spent enough time in Arry's presence, he ought to suss out what was wrong. It was difficult, though. He hadn't any real medical training so he didn't have a lot of context to compare what his senses took in. Arry didn't smell like he was sweating stale wine, so perhaps he was just tired and had a headache. But Aurin thought not; he knew the clever thief better than that.

"Well, I was going to take you out to dinner," he began slowly. "Then see if there are any decent tailors open late. I need some new clothes, nicer clothes, and you've a better eye for that than me." He paused. "I could just ask Rickter, I suppose, but fur-lined skivvies aren't really my style. And I don't know if he imports that wet dog-smelling cologne from somewhere, but also, no thank you. Of course, you'd probably outfit me in too much lace and thread-of-gold but I can't really pull off the dandy aesthetic, so I guess I'll just go to dinner by myself and see what I find."

He didn't move yet, though, still gauging Arry, and his response might be telling.

That an offer for food and clothes perked him up was a good sign, but something still felt off, with and without his Semblance trick. But if Arry was willing to come out of his cave and join the land of the living, Aurin would give him some time to be forthcoming about it. If he didn't, the elder man might just have to pry for his own good. He was glad that the minstrel was giving him things Aurin couldn't, but Aurin would still force him to take care of himself if he needed it.

"He's fine," he said, honestly wondering why Arry bothered to ask when it was so clearly a chore. He didn't ask after the minstrel, assuming Arry knew how to take care of himself and that he could ask Aurin for help at the drop of a hat no matter what.

"I'll just wait out front," he said when Arry started to change. It was dark in the room, but lines had been drawn in the sand and he wanted to respect Arry's wishes as best he could. But he hurried past the closet with the medicines for something that would help with a headache, and dropped into the kitchen for some water, and made it back to Arry's door before he emerged, the better to let him dose up and drink before they quit the premises. It was solicitous, but it wasn't new behavior. He second-guessed it, though, while he waited. Perhaps taking care of Arry was what had led him to want some exclusive thing with him. But he couldn't not take care of him. He had offered the songbird a place to perch far from the streets of Antiris. He had grown to full manhood here, and things between them had blossomed into other things, but even if Arry had outgrown him, he wanted to take care of him when and how he was able. That was the whole point of him being here at all with news of the Theater waiting in the wings.

When the door opened, he held out the painkiller and the water.

"I was," he said, "but I thought you might find me more palatable if you're in less pain."

He delivered it like a joke, but it was the truth. He deflected the question while they were inside, then looked hard at Arry's complexion when they were in the sun. That wasn't quite what he looked like when he was hungover, but he would continue to wait for more on that story. Just a season ago, he would have demanded to know and Arry would have put up a fight but he would have told him in the end. Now he wasn't sure he had a right to ask. Perhaps he never had.

"Well," he said, squinting at the sun, as well, then back at the golden boy of the Velvet Cabaret, "I got a new job and these are the nicest clothes I've got. I'm not entirely sure what a serious impresario ought to wear. My only study is the soon-to-be-former managing director and I don't think I'd look good in her dresses." He had been up in her skirts, of course, but that had been when he was wearing another man's face and using another man's name. Of course, he didn't volunteer that information, but he would rather Arry not always know what he did to get what he got, rather that he told him he would do a thing and he made it happen.

"Anyway, I figure if we eat first, then they will make sure to leave me a bit of room where it counts so I won't pop buttons when I eat, you see?"

That said, he started across the plaza shared by the Velvet Cabaret, the Golden Peacock, and the Jade Crane. Arry might squawk at the news and hurt his little head, but at least Aurin was playing it cool and collected.