(from datzpose) 🍻+ "Who are you to Apollo, really?"
send 🍻 and a question for drunk klav to answer!
Klavier maintains eye contact with Datz for a long moment, before turning his attention to the subject of the question, sitting across the room and speaking animatedly with the others who had come over to celebrate the lates big win for the Justice law Offices. With the strong Khura'inese alcohol, Klavier's carefly constructed facade fades more than usual, and it would be extremely difficult to hide the soft fondness in his gaze. It's not often alcohol gets the better of him, not after so many years.
With a slightly foreign sense of slowness as he focuses on forming the right words, he finally answers. "In his eyes? Friend. Good friend…I hope. Guess…guess he fin'lly decided to like me after a while. Rival before that, sorta. 's complicated."
He closes his eyes and tilts his head, and were he sober he knows he wouldn't be having this conversation. But of all the things he's learned sicne he and Apollo finally were on the same page about their friendship…being open and honest helped. So maybe, finally, he should say what he really feels.
He cracks open an eye and points at Datz, accusingly. "You…cant say a word bout this. 'Spec'lly to him. But…he's my type. Becuz 'm a—a glutton fer punishmint. An like people who're mean to me." He sighs too wistfully, his gaze going back to Apollo, watching his gesture wildly while he recounts some story for the crowd around him. "'e pulled me outta my slump…back inta the light. More'n once. An…he's funny. Pass'nate. Vib—vibr'nt." He struggles to actually say the words he wants to, his expression briefly turning frustrated before he sighs heavily.
"…but. Can't be." Klavier actually sounds fairly defeated as he admits it aloud—it's something he's thought about for ages, mulled over any time he considers the depth of his feelings for Apollo. "I…hava lotta things I love 'bout him. But…but. 's not meant to be. Fer…lotsa reasons. An Im…" Klavier's not fine with it, not really. But he can't find it in himself to say it. "…gonna be fine widdat."
He glances back at Datz, reaching out and sluggishly patting the other's shoulder.
"An if I find out ye…said anythin to 'im? 'm gonna sue ya. Sooooo many papers." And then he procedes to sluggishly list out the lawsuits he'll send Datz's way. In a mix of German and French.