#instantvalse

Still, once he rose to the acclaims of Malkuth nobility, one of his first purchases was a replacement pair. Finer material, tougher but softer, and craftsmanship far beyond his own skill. They were beautifully constructed and fit like—well, a glove. He rarely took his old pair off save for a quick shower or an especially messy meal, but he wouldn’t have minded if these went right ahead and adhered themselves to his hands so that he might never be rid of them.

But some things still need that special touch.

It’s the first time he’s willingly parted from them, although only the right one loosened to free his hand to the outside air. It’s quiet—barely a rustle as he tucks it away in a back pocket, material fingers still jabbing out at the world as if reaching for freedom—and his careful steps mimic the stealth. He doesn’t want to alert his target, after all, and his fingers curl at the second knuckle in anticipation. One step closer. And another. Almost there—

Breath held tightly in his throat, he reaches out and… there! Bare skin meets with the short, bristling azure of an unsuspecting soldier’s hair. A victorious grin leaps across his lips as he threads his hand as much into Hubert’s locks as he possibly can before recognition and retaliation take place of carefree obliviousness. He’s sure he’ll get some sort of scolding or exasperated chiding; maybe even the arcing swing of a hard book upside his face.

ps grow ur hair out first before complaining about the length of others’ :/ :/ :/ (aka hu’s here to complain adlhfaha)

"It's not the worst thing that could happen," Sheena offers with a soft snort as she steals a glance up at half-elf from where her head laid comfortably upon his shoulder. With due thanks to the messy style that she tied her hair in, it was true enough that every time she turned her head meant the brush of hair against his cheek or his neck. It went without saying that it didn’t bother her at all but unfortunately, her companion was another matter.

A book that she had been leafing through without much interest lies open on her lap, a hand holding it open to the page that she had last skimmed. Text filled the majority of either page that it was open to, though a diagram of some sort occupied half of the first. It was hard to determine with just a look what the diagram depicted but each part of it was labeled in small text.

After stifling an unwelcome yawn that served to remind her how late in the evening it had become since her arrival, she ventures on to elaborate on her thoughts. “Your glasses keep it from getting in your eyes and it smells nice anyway, right? Maybe you’ll survive this plight somehow and, well... If not then I’ll make sure I bring a whole bunch of flowers to your funeral.” 

A small pause followed, after which a small frown found her lips and she tilts her head back to look at Hubert properly.

But he’s organized himself and it’s only a short trip that finds him conversing briefly with a guard and thanking a maid for allowing him entrance to the lieutenant’s home. The waiting is a bit more impatient—nervous fidgeting and last-minute questioning—but he attempts to calm it all when he’s once again face-to-face with the other man.

“Before you yell and tell me to leave—“ He has to get that out quickly because he’s nearly positive that the only response he’ll receive is that exact one or something very similar. His hands might be trembling slightly if not for their tight hold on the small box clamped between them and his expression says only hear me out.

“I meant what I said before. Anything you decide is okay. And I asked you to be honest about it, but I got to thinking and…” The box is shifted to one hand while the other raises to rub at the short hairs at the base of his neck. “I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask you to be honest if I can’t prove that I’m doing the same. After all, you probably don’t know me well enough to take my word for it.”

A heavy breath is let out and his wandering eyes finally raise with some confidence and vulnerability.

“A few months ago my fiancé, the only person I’ve ever really been with, went missing on a military operation. He was a colonel,” the catch in his voice is slight and he pushes through it with hurry, “and a strong fighter, but he still...” There are no guarantees in life, for sure. “To this day, I still haven’t told my best friend, whom I’d do anything in the world for, that I’m even interested in other men because I’m afraid of what he might think of me.”

It all seems without purpose, these random facts, but they come together to prove ( at least in his mind ) a very solid point. Another, shorter breath is forced out and the hand waging war on the back of his head rejoins the other to stranglehold the box.

“I know this seems a lot like oversharing, but I wanted to tell you that. I just don’t want you to think I said what I did lightly. Everything about this scares me—I was scared even when I thought you might have felt the same way. I tried a dozen times to come here so I could say all of this to you before I actually worked up the courage to do it.” Breathe.

“You can’t have any way to know that I’m serious about all this other than what I’ve said, but…” And now his gaze falls downward, emotions exhausted and mind fatigued. “I just wanted you to know all of that.”

“I’m lost, aren’t I?” Maybe it’s a section of a world he knows that’s merely unfamiliar, but he’s become accustomed to his frequented universes enough to know better than that. The single saving grace is that he’s dropped in close to a city. And one with what seems to have a military presence. It’s a quick contest in his head whether the benefits of asking a more knowledgeable resident might be outweighed by the suspicious nature of his question; he’s already feeling as though he sticks out readily, anyway.

“Excuse me!” His smile betrays him, drawing nervously across his face as he approaches a man appearing to be with some law organization. Perhaps it’s just a simple outfit, but it definitely appears to be a uniform. Besides, that stern look and watchful demeanor Guy’s observed in the few moments it’s taken to reach him—it reminds him quite a bit of the other military personnel he’s known.

He stops at enough of a distance so as not to seem threatening and raises a single hand in greeting.

“Sorry to bother you, but I think I’m a little lost. I don’t recognize this city at all.” A risk—if he’s happened into a well-known city or a capital, it’ll look all the more suspicious. “Would you mind telling me where we are?”