Capek could hardly contain his excitement. Through the brief formalities exchanged between two old souls whom haven't seen one another in years; to the house maid laying out the plain cookies and cups of tea between them as they sat across one another - he fought against the twisted and haughty grin that wanted to crack along the edges of his mouth.
The silence they shared only furthered the storm of excitement across his skin; dancing up his arms in tiny skin colored goosebumps. Every little bit about his interaction with the great Bonaparta was enough to make him sit on the edge of his chair; just breathing in the same air was enough to stimulate a reaction from him.
So the slow and careful downpour of the tea felt almost mocking. The golden liquid dripping from the spout and hitting porcelain felt as if it were grains of sand trickling down from an hourglass, chipping away at his patience - but seemingly never-ending.
He wanted to hurry, blurt out the news, alleviate the excitement from his chest and then bask in the blessings of his praise.
But everything had to be perfect - he hammered into everyone; the butlers, the maids, the cooks - down to the biscuits laid out on the china; homemade and fresh, perfect in size and without a single crack to spoil the flowery aesthetic. The deserts that did not pass were thrown out.
As usual, the other's expression was unreadable. Capek couldn't tell if he was impressed with his ameliorations. When he was merely a follower of the man's shadows, Capek did not have a manor to call his own - let alone an experiment.
He was certain Bonaparta knew all about his progress. That is what brought him here, wasn't it? The intrigue upon reviewing his reports - despite the fact that he left that life behind him long ago. Capek knew if he gave him the inklings of what he was currently working on; his friend's would wake up out of the shell of his former self.
But there was one more trick up his sleeve - and my god, it was becoming painful to keep it hidden.
The man considered him, with a glance - before taking a sip of his tea.
"You have something you wish to tell me, don't you Capek?" He finally spoke, breaking the choking silence between them - as well as Capek's hold over his emotions.
He sat forward, cupping his hands together over his knees as to hide the fact that they were shaking and refrained from speaking because he knew he would do so frantically.
How horrible it was, to have the words tremble upon his lips, torturously dancing along his tongue as he tried to swallow down the nonsense he knew wanted to escape.
"Y-yes." He stammered out, his hands clammy.
"Y-you see, I've discovered something of great interest to you." He chuckled nervously.
"That is why I broke my vow and wrote to you." He tried to share a pleading smile along with his confession but Bonaparta was too focused on the tea to spare him a look.
Capek coughed to calm his nerves and continued.
"...It's about the twins." He couldn't drop all the bombs at once - no, he was too eager to read every inch of this man for what he was about to share with his reaction.
The thrill that came when Bonaparta lifted his gaze from his tea and finally locked eyes with him was euphoric.
"I have them - i-in my facility." He swallowed hard, knowing he was not being as clear and concise as he wanted to be.
"A subordinate of mine found them near death at the border." He paused, allowing his words to set in.
"Upon their description, I had to see it for myself - and asked General Wulf to send them to me." He unclasped his hands and in turn, unleashed himself.
"I've observed them for the last 2 months at 511. The boy is harder to decode but if one thing is certain - he seems extremely overprotective of his sister. And the girl, my the girl - showed great promise early on." He spoke with an air of pride and carelessness.
"If there's one I know we can mold into perfection; it's definitely Anna - his twin sister."
Capek was brave enough to pick up his eyes and look directly at Bonaparta. The other bore his eyes into him but said nothing. His expression was flat; not a flicker of anger or excitement - nothing. For some reason, this made him nervous.
"Don't you see? We have another chance at this!" He tried to lighten the mood; alleviate the weight his words hung in the air.
Franz was in no way eager for this meeting, alas, he knew his old friend was too useful to ignore if he bypassed his own reserves against contacting him.
He didn't need to look his way to know he was posturing, as always. It was obvious in the gait and mannerism of the maid, buttler, and even guards.
The pastries held not a single blemish, a waste, if someone asked him.
But that was the thing wasn't it? Petr, never asked him or even tried to know him.
He was too busy with his sycophancy to the myth he crafted, the fake name he projected.
He never once tried to understand him really, all he wanted was to project his own worthlessness and chase a fix that would never satisfy him.
It wasn't something he necessarily grudged him, If anything he pitied him - he wished he would have grown out of it by this age -but he never enjoyed being the recipient of it.
Especially since he never needed the validation of anyone to be anything, bit certain wounds never healed it seems. And Bonaparta was in no mood to be a replacement for a childhood crush.
The tea fogged his glasses as he let the man simmer. He always found letting him externalise it was the best strategy.
He never wanted him attached but there was nothing he could do about it without causing more issues. And he needed a confidant anyways, regardless of his intentions.
The pastry dusted his mouth and he chewed slowly.
When he finally spoke, it was to dispell the stench of nervousness and the desire for praise.
But alas, the news Petr wanted to deliver were likely to do with the twins, something he needed to know.
The chasm gaped wider as he explained his plan, echoes of a poorly made bait to reanimate the dragon from its tomb, call upon the vestiges of myth, to feel great by proxy.
If he knew Franz, he would have know why he did what he did. If he was a real friend, really in love, he would have paid attention. He didn't attempt to hide it from him.
But alas, he was never as good of a disciple as he liked to think he was.
He almost sighed but kept himself blank, as always. The blank mask always led to more projection on his part.
One brow raised. "We? I never took you one for such assumptions, Petr"
A small mercy, a lifeline for the man to right his misteps, for old time's sake.
