#lilac scribbles

"This seat taken?" asks Verso. Gustave looks at him in alarm, but quickly shakes his head. "It's not." He pauses, then curls his lips into a tiny, nervous smile. "Or… well, I guess it is if you want to sit there. Go ahead." Smiling in return, Verso slides onto the stool. He quickly orders a gin and tonic on the rocks—lighter on the liquor, since he's already two shots of pineapple vodka deep and doesn't want to get blackout drunk tonight—pays, and then turns to Gustave while he waits. Gustave, for his part, seems to be trying to look comfortable, but it's clear that he's not quite at home in places like this. "I'm Verso, by the way," he introduces himself. Nodding, Gustave replies, "Lune and Sciel told me." He smiles sheepishly as he stirs his straw in his drink. "Gustave. But I imagine Lune or Sciel told you already, right?"

You'll have to excuse him, he's just a brat.

Drawing with a mouse is hard </3

"I think it could be a good time. A place to cut loose and relax." "Although, if you're relaxed at a nightclub, I think you're doing it very, very wrong," inputs Sophie, her tone far more serious than her joke should probably indicate. Chuckling fondly, Emma gently pokes Sophie's forehead. "You're right, but that's not the point," she muses. "The point, my dear brother, is that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." Nodding emphatically, Sophie points at Gustave and announces, "And we're going tonight." She points between the three of them. "All three of us." Brows rising, Gustave looks between them, incredulity increasing with each flick of his eyes. Finally, he shakes his head. "No, actually," he replies, offering the gaudy flier back to Emma. "You two are going. I'm sure you'll have an absolutely wonderful time. Relaxing or chaotic as you like it. I'm perfectly content to stay home. I have some things to work on before the next semester starts—"

There's no need to be nervous, Verso tells himself sternly. Don't overthink it. He invited you over. You're not intruding. Verso runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Before he heads for the door, he takes one last glance at his bruised cheek in the rearview mirror. The center is red and split, the wound clean but still ugly, and the entirety of his cheek is bruised. It's a deep shade of purple, swirled with an angry red throughout. In a way, he's lucky that Dion isn't any stronger. It could have been a lot worse, but that doesn't change the fact that it hurts like hell. He huffs quietly, then averts his eyes from his reflection and glances toward the door.

"Can I tell you something?" Gustave intimates. Verso nods. "Of course." Smile growing more genuine, Gustave squeezes Verso's hand and picks up a piece of bread with the other. He dips it in the queso blanco, but before he eats it, he explains, "Maelle wishes you were her father."

Gustave ♥