[...Is that it? He just. Misunderstood?? Lobelia's mind blanks. He turns, gliding into the kitchen to pick up a meat cleaver, if only to ground himself. Ignore him. He's processing.]
We do have a trash compactor. Sadly, I've never had the opportunity to see how it handles blessed steel. And now you've made me dreadfully curieux...
Ha. [And now, a not so gentle laugh, grinning.] I've already come this far. I don't think your fear is all so warranted. [It's not like he hasn't thought about the possibility before. Even if he disapproves...he's here.] And really? Would you? Keep them in the morgue, please. That's the place for them.
[Ah. So that's how easily Hansa can undo himโ one gentle observation, and Lobelia stills. The meat cleaver rests against his shoulder as though it weighs nothing at all. His smile wavers, but only for a breath.]
Mon Dieu... must you say such things while I'm holding a blade?
[A quiet laugh escapes him, low and shaken around the edges. He sets the cleaver down with more care than necessary and turns back toward Hansa.]
If I were wiser, I would deny it. I would say you imagine things, or that you read too deeply into my jokes. But... oui. You are not wrong. I like you more than is sensible. Beaucoup more.
And as for the morgue, very well. If I ever take a life in your honor [lol], I will ensure the body is kept somewhere respectable. Happy?
Oh, merci! Call me cute again and I will rethink tossing you in the trash compactor. Your crocodile tears won't sway me.
[He's not cute? He's a grown murderer?? Have some respect.
Mercifully, he leaves the meat cleaver where he'd set it and motions broadly to the kitchen as a whole.]
Ah, but I'm afraid I must disappoint you further and tell you that there is little of interest in this place. If you were looking for secrets, you won't find them here. That is why you called on me, non?
I said you liking me was cute, not you. Or do you want me to call you cute, too? I would. I always say what I mean, and I mean what I say.
[DOES HE]
Secrets...eh. [He tilts his head, grinning.] No, I called on you because of you. I just wanted to see how you felt being in someplace that seems familiar.
[Lobelia gasps, lifting an arm to drape theatrically over his eyes like a man struck by grievous insult.]
Mon dieu! What kind of priest demands a man beg for truths he already knows? I am cuteโ รฉvidemment!
[they should've replaced those eyes too when they were all up in there robotizing hansa smh............]
Mm, but non, this place does not sway me much at all. If it had been, say, my childhood home... my parents waiting warmly within... oui. That might have meant something to me.
He would love to tell Hansa off for calling him sentimental โ he hates when this man is right โ but it's true. His parents are worth remembering fondly, aren't they? He'll be coming home to them soon enough.]
Mm! If you're offering, it would be rude of me to turn you down. This way, this way.
[He'll take Hansa over to his favorite table... which gives anyone who sits here a pretty full view of the restaurant. It helps to know where the exits are.]
[tell me it fires lasers or some shit why is it hidden]
For you? Mm... give me a moment.
[Lobelia scans over the menu, but in practice, he's considering the particulars of how a man like Hansa even processes food. Maybe if he could just take him apartโ]
...I suggest Coq au vin. A classique, and one I feel you will enjoy. Of course, you intend to have wine with your meal, non?
[There's only one right answer. Don't insult the Frenchman, Hansa.]
Don't patronize me... [:,(] And ah...a man of the sea. You do have that way about you. You probably spend a lot of times romantically sauntering down the beach, hm?
[Aw... is he being patronizing? Lobelia sticks his tongue out at him.]
That's cute, Pรจre... Not you, รฉvidemment, but your upset.
[HEH. As far as romantically sauntering down on the beachโ]
Oui! What else is the beach for if not for romantic saunterings? Ah, but not quite as you imagine. I have told you before that I am something of a loner, non? Don't think to pity me. I've lived my life a particular way by choice.
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[You know...he will start to turn away.]
Perhaps I should leave. I clearly started off on the wrong foot. Even my enjoyment can take me too far.
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You were willing to believe I would stash bodies in a restaurant freezer. I can't fault you for that.
[But still... Lobelia hesitates. More than Hansa, he's frustrated with himself.]
It shouldn't bother me.
[And yet it does.]
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[A tilt of the head.]
I can see why that was taken as such. Should have clarified. And anyways, it was an off-color joke. Even for you.
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We do have a trash compactor. Sadly, I've never had the opportunity to see how it handles blessed steel. And now you've made me dreadfully curieux...
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[He is going to come up from behind him, though.]
...Why were you upset if I did think you stored bodies back there? Do you want me to think the best of you?
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Do I want you to think the best of me? Bien sรปr. Who wouldn't? But wanting and deserving are not the same, and I've never claimed to be easy to like.
[He taps the flat of the cleaver against his shoulder, as if considering how close he dares come to sincerity without cutting himself open.]
If you had truly believed I kept bodies back there... Mm. Perhaps I feared you would stop looking at me the way you do now.
[A beat, softening, but only slightly.]
Besides, if I ever were to keep corpses on the premises, I'd choose somewhere far more elegant than a restaurant kitchen. I have standards, you know.
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[His expression softens.]
You really do like me that much, don't you.
[A gentle observation.]
Ha. [And now, a not so gentle laugh, grinning.] I've already come this far. I don't think your fear is all so warranted. [It's not like he hasn't thought about the possibility before. Even if he disapproves...he's here.] And really? Would you? Keep them in the morgue, please. That's the place for them.
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Mon Dieu... must you say such things while I'm holding a blade?
[A quiet laugh escapes him, low and shaken around the edges. He sets the cleaver down with more care than necessary and turns back toward Hansa.]
If I were wiser, I would deny it. I would say you imagine things, or that you read too deeply into my jokes. But... oui. You are not wrong. I like you more than is sensible. Beaucoup more.
And as for the morgue, very well. If I ever take a life in your honor [lol], I will ensure the body is kept somewhere respectable. Happy?
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[Even he is self aware how obnoxious he is. He is grinning though, his nose scrunched a little with amusement.]
Don't take a life in my honor, either! I'd be so sad. You don't want to see me sad.
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[He's not cute? He's a grown murderer?? Have some respect.
Mercifully, he leaves the meat cleaver where he'd set it and motions broadly to the kitchen as a whole.]
Ah, but I'm afraid I must disappoint you further and tell you that there is little of interest in this place. If you were looking for secrets, you won't find them here. That is why you called on me, non?
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[DOES HE]
Secrets...eh. [He tilts his head, grinning.] No, I called on you because of you. I just wanted to see how you felt being in someplace that seems familiar.
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Mon dieu! What kind of priest demands a man beg for truths he already knows? I am cuteโ รฉvidemment!
[they should've replaced those eyes too when they were all up in there robotizing hansa smh............]
Mm, but non, this place does not sway me much at all. If it had been, say, my childhood home... my parents waiting warmly within... oui. That might have meant something to me.
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Ah, I see.
[A pause.....and then a little huff of a laugh.]
You really are so sentimental. [He means it as a compliment.] Your parents may not be here...but we can have dinner together. If it would please you.
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He would love to tell Hansa off for calling him sentimental โ he hates when this man is right โ but it's true. His parents are worth remembering fondly, aren't they? He'll be coming home to them soon enough.]
Mm! If you're offering, it would be rude of me to turn you down. This way, this way.
[He'll take Hansa over to his favorite table... which gives anyone who sits here a pretty full view of the restaurant. It helps to know where the exits are.]
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Alright.
[He gladly follows, sitting himself down across the man.]
Now. What do you think I should order?
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For you? Mm... give me a moment.
[Lobelia scans over the menu, but in practice, he's considering the particulars of how a man like Hansa even processes food. Maybe if he could just take him apartโ]
...I suggest Coq au vin. A classique, and one I feel you will enjoy. Of course, you intend to have wine with your meal, non?
[There's only one right answer. Don't insult the Frenchman, Hansa.]
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Ahhh. I don't think I've had that before, but I'll take it. And of course, the wine, too. It only adds to the meal, yes?
[HE WON'T BE SO MEAN]
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Bien! That is the only correct answer. Then for you, a bourgogne rouge.
[Which he'll order on Hansa's behalf, because Lobelia knows best.]
And for myself... Mm! Magret de Canard aux Cerises and Pinot Noir. Any objections, Pรจre?
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[And....yes, he doesn't know enough French for This Shit.]
Canard....duck, right? Is that your favorite?
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Oui! Very good, Pรจre.
[clapping for him what a good boy]
Ah, but non. I prefer seafood, myself. I grew up by the shore, you know... That is where all my best memories were made.
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Don't patronize me... [:,(] And ah...a man of the sea. You do have that way about you. You probably spend a lot of times romantically sauntering down the beach, hm?
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That's cute, Pรจre... Not you, รฉvidemment, but your upset.
[HEH. As far as romantically sauntering down on the beachโ]
Oui! What else is the beach for if not for romantic saunterings? Ah, but not quite as you imagine. I have told you before that I am something of a loner, non? Don't think to pity me. I've lived my life a particular way by choice.
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[^_^]
[Yes he will take that compliment thank youuuuu.]
[The following remarks make him purse his lips a little. A loner...]
I wouldn't pity you. But I have to ask...why? Why that choice?
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[Ah, but now Hansa's asking the real question. Lobelia buys a moment to think with a sip of wine.]
Oh? Don't you know, mon Pรจre? The Tower is bad luck. Stay too close to me and you'll fall to ruin too.
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[He lets out a little snort of a laugh.]
If Childermass got it into his head and told you that, maybe I should give him a talk.
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