...On Official Business. ("Unfettered")

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]Hardly the same man.[/shadow]

---

November 11th, 2011.

A warm day. Fortunately for Vincent most of his journey took place below ground, saving him the discomfort of trekking for miles beneath the glare of the sun, in a full black uniform; and how fortunate that the sun was out in the first place, saving him the trouble of having to travel through flooded tunnels… again.

The man’s face as he walked for miles through the lightless realm was cool and unaffected. But several times along the way a certain memory would jab him in the heart, agitating a squall of ethereal butterflies in the absolute darkness.

. . .

By the time he had exited the Tunnels and made it as far as the pier, Vincent was no less stoic than he was when he’d left Rogues territory. He traversed the length of the pier with a brisk sort of casualness, a professional but humble demeanor. The sleek black uniform he donned, reminiscent of the SS and characteristic of Rogues officers, was the prominent clue that he was here on official business matters. His pale visage was stern but unassertive, his lips drawn into a slight frown (as usual) but his brow unweighted, raised ever-so-slightly in a graceful manner. His eyes… lustrous violet. Not a hint of apprehension whatsoever to darken the hue.

…Or at least, he was doing a rather good job of disguising whatever perturbation or excitement that may have still been fluttering around in him. He may or may not have been tapping his fingers insistently against the inside of his coat pocket. But his hands froze when he approached the two guards who were stationed right outside the Crow’s Nest… he would stop his approach about ten feet away, eying the men with an air of unspoken caution. Standing up straight, Vincent cleared his throat and reached up to straighten his black tie.

“…I am Vincent, Commander of Rogues. I’ve come to see Unfettered. He sent for me.”

His hands would return casually to his pockets.

["Unfettered"]

OOC: ...Talk about damaged muse. My bad for taking so long. ><

Of Crows, Of Rogues

Only about a minute into Vincent's emergence would the Crows have realized the presence of an unverified target. Three minutes later, the observers would be informed of the identity of the unknown: Vincent, commander of Rogues. However, no patrols seemed to be dictated his way in terms of identifying exactly where Vincent had come from or how he had penetrated so deeply into Crows territory without being identified. It was as though the patrols were weakened at his emergence location non purpose. Vincent would go unmolested as he approached the doors by two guards.

...At a distance... Vincent might have appeared to look like "Unfettered" by some of the German's older colleagues, save for the short, neat hair and the deathly pale skin that made "Unfettered" look positively tan.

Almost instantaneously, something in the minds of the guards clicked. A cautious smile swelled onto one of the guard's face, while the other just seemed to nod more professionally.

"...Of course, sir. We've been expecting your arrival---please, come in. We'll send for "Unfettered" to come meet you in person, sir."

The more smiley guard slipped opened the door, slipping inside first while the second, more serious guard opened up the door and held it open for Vincent. Inside, Vincent would see a small waiting froom and another double doors just beyond the first main entrance doors. The "filtering" room would not be unlike that of a waiting room at Red Lobster if it were still standing or some other finer resteraunt. Vincent would be allowed to wait here, inside and away from the hot sun while a dramatically cooler atmosphere waited for Vincent inside.

Standing at attention inside the room, the two guards would leave outside front doors unattended---or so it would appear. With a quick, nonchalant knock to the inside of the double-doors to the main part of the Crow's Nest, two unseen Crows would quickly make their way to cover for them. Otherwise, the weight would be about three minutes...

...And then the door opened.

"Unfettered" would step out with a smile barely concealed on his face. The guard that had remained at the door would look to his side, rather shocked to see the S.S. uniform donned for the first time in his Crow career. "Unfettered's" eye would be darkened over by his cap until he stepped out a little further, revealing the sharp blue eye.

"Unfettered's" arms would shoot out rather quickly around the man's waist and hug him deep and close against his own body, sticking his tongue deep into his mouth in a passionate kiss, his cap falling off to the side as he rubbing his left cheek against Vincent's, happily.

"Mein freund! Mein lover! So glad you could make it!"

He would loosen his grip about Vincent and give the man a moment to compose himself. Excitement twinkled in the German's eye.~

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]Be cool...[/shadow]

---

Vincent nodded at the guard’s greeting and stepped forward through the open door, gladly letting the sunshine peel away from his black clothing. He blinked away the remnants of the bright light from his eyes and let his gaze settle comfortably on the light blue tile floor. After a few moments of standing with his hands still idle in his pockets, Vincent pulled out his cigarettes and regarded the two guards somewhat indifferently as he lit one. He leaned against the wall in a feigned counterfeit of perfect ease and anticipated the opening of the door. After the first two minutes had passed, though, Vincent’s focus was inadvertently diverted to seeing patterns in the grid lay of the tile floor.

The door opened. Vincent flinched at the sound, recollected his thoughts from the floor in an instant, and turned his head to see… to see… to…

*ahem*

…To see “Unfettered” stalking toward him. He barely noted the man’s outstretched arms, too distracted by the sleek black uniform that covered them, and thus was caught off-guard when the German hugged him. Vincent’s face was absolutely blank as the man’s strong arms encircled around his waist. His entire body stiffened for a moment. Due to the slight height difference between them he found himself staring wide-eyed at the German’s black-collared neck. Warm skin brushed against his cheek. Strong arms held him captive against that tall, lanky, finely uniformed body. The familiar, deeply accented voice all but cooed at him, it was so close. And then, by some unprecedented reflex, Vincent relaxed into the embrace and even let his right arm, carefully as he was still holding a cigarette, wrap loosely around the German’s waist. When “Unfettered” backed off, Vincent’s hand trailed along the black fabric on his hip and then dropped quickly to his side.

He felt… fine. But he felt himself blushing, if only a little. With nothing really to say in response to… anything , Vincent returned the German’s greeting by flashing a wan smile. A wan, but sincere smile.

And then he reached up with his left hand and straightened his tie again.

["Unfettered"]

First Things First...

"Unfettered" continued smiling, looking again at his dear compatriot. He missed that clean scent. The German himself felt no awkwardness seeing as this was the man who had saved his very life. And it felt good to feel Vince's increasingly defined muscles wrapped so tightly about him.

Not everything was for fun and games. Vincent's meeting was an important one, for both the diplomatic ties of Rogues and Crows, but also for the strategic exchange of information that would occur. There was, however, a very real, very sexually personal reason of wanting to see Vincent again. It had been so long that he had seen his lover friend in a while, after all, and their parting was only under relatively grim circumstances.

"Unfettered" would reach out, patting the man on the shoulder towards him gently as an indication to follow him. To the guards, he nodded gratefully for bringing Vincent to his attention.

"Du may return to your posts.

"Vincent... coffee?"

He would smile, pushing open the waiting room's door into a hallway that connected all the rooms on the first floor to one another, with wooden flooring and white painted walls as the guards nodded in turn, returning to the outside silently. The Mess Hall was directly across from them.

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]UH[/shadow]

---

Once his smile had faded, Vincent found himself just staring silently up at the taller man. Then, out of nowhere, he caught himself imagining that their brief embrace hadn’t ended there, and had ended perhaps by turning their faces toward each other and pressing their lips together and Vincent would slip his tongue into— WHAT THE FUCK.

The mental image had lasted no more than an instant, like a single frame from a porno spliced into a children’s movie, but it was enough for Vincent to clench his jaw in sudden apprehension. His heart smacked incredulously against the inside of his ribcage for a moment as he stood, somewhat dazed, wondering if the room had suddenly grown warmer or maybe just… calm the fuck down. “Unfettered” put a hand on his shoulder.

“I would love some coffee.” he said, promptly, following the German wherever he chose to lead him.

["Unfettered"]

Like A Goddamned Ritual

"Kekekeke... alright."

As before, Vincent would be able to see the otherwise cool and collected demeanor that "Unfettered" kept around his men. He looked pleased and amused...

...And opened the door to the Mess Hall. It was a little after lunch, so it was a bit emptier than usual, with only a few stray tables left open. The leftover food had been packed away, only brought out manually for the hungrier folk already done with their duties before it would be otherwise distributed elsewhere, but several coffee pots were kept piping hot with necessary accessories stationed nearby.

As soon as Vincent stepped in with him, "Unfettered" would trail a finger down that spine and make a beeline for the coffee, grabbing out two thick, brown mugs from the stationed rack. Offering one to Vincent, provided he was nearby still, "Unfettered" would grab the nearest pot and offer it to Vincent silently with generally the same expression. He would then pour until signaled or told to stop before he'd pour some for himself.

Putting back the pot, the German would go to the side to lean against a wall to Vincent's right, having not drank any coffee from his mug yet, waiting for Vincent. Whenever Vincent looked up, the German would pat the wall about a foot to his side, telling Vincent to lean with him with a wink.

"Cheers," he'd smile, offering to clink mugs symbolically, slipping his right hand around Vincent's waist. "Unfettered" would turn his head to his close comrade.

"...So...

"Ich have ze room prepped.~"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Teal" jolted in the cot, his face looking around a bit. He stared around... calling in the dark, not knowing where he kept his arms.

: "...Vespyr? Vespyr?"

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]...Room?[/shadow]

---

Following close behind “Unfettered”, Vincent panned his violet gaze indifferently throughout the mess hall, and finally settled his gaze on the brown mug he was being offered. He reached out to take it and held it in place so that the German could fill him up. The pleasantly thick aroma of black coffee wafted up to greet him and he breathed deeply, catching a hint of the other man’s scent along with it. He found himself unable to not savor the robust mingling of scents and stepped forward to lean against the wall beside “Unfettered” in stoic silence. The mug would be clinked somewhat hesitantly on Vincent’s part, as he was careful not to let anything spill. His violet gaze leered at the German, somewhere between sidelong and demure.

He raised an eyebrow, slowly, and lifted the mug to his lips. Sipping. The coffee tasted good.Warmth trickled through Vincent’s body, which had gone cold with suspense.

“…Oh?”

---

In the dark, another pair of arms that was definitely not “Teal”’s slid around the man where he lay in his cot, rather tightly, like a cold snake suddenly constricting about his waist. Vespyr’s voice slithered through the darkness, right into the man’s left ear, where her cold lips lingered only a breath away.

“What.”

[/blockquote]

["Unfettered"]

Great Taste~

The German took to watching Vincent drink for a few moments, licking his lips watching that adam's apple travel up and down his throat with a longing eye. At the very least, the coffee quality had been consistent, much to "Unfettered's" pleasure, and he brought his own mug to his lips, draining it slowly by an eighth. He'd tip the mug up slightly, letting the wondrously rich aroma fill his nose, skillfully not letting a single drop go before he lowered it again, giving a longingly sidelong glance at Vincent with a chuckle.

"Of course. Ich think ve may have found some of your things from ze rubble of ze old HQ.

"If du have anything pressingly urgent du lost there, ve can go inspect ze goodz as long und thoroughly as needed.~"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Teal" found himself shivering suddenly at the realization that he was cold. Grumpily, he realized who was under the covers. Still waking up, he cursed silently, rubbing his chin onto her forehead gently, finding his arms on her lower back. He'd slide a gentle hand up to the back of her head, conflictingly grouchy.

"A gott damned nightmare," he'd mutter.

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]Beating The Bush To Death[/shadow]

---

Vincent paused his sipping to regard the German with a genuinely interested look, though it quickly passed and he was again gazing as emotionlessly as his pent-up desires closely guarded anticipation could allow for.

“…I think there may have been some… urgent things… that you may have salvaged.”

Oh my god, I just said that.

Vincent forced himself to stare forward, his face blank, taking another sip of coffee.

“…Let’s check it out.”

The corner of his lip twitched upward for a moment, and there may or may not have been, in his voice, the inconspicuous sound of… trying not to laugh.

---

The man would feel the tips of Vespyr’s claws crawling slowly up his stomach like the legs of a spider.

“What could you possibly have nightmares about.”

[/b][/size][/blockquote]

["Unfettered"]

You'd Think This Couldn't Get Worse

"Unfettered" chuckled, nodding in acceptance. Pushing himself off the wall with one hand, he'd wait for Vincent to stand at his side before slapping for a feel of that pale ass, letting his fingers linger for a few seconds. Quaff his coffee to half, he then began more or less marching in a leisurely way to the side door of the mess hall, opening the door again for his revered guest before resuming his gait.

...He'd turn to the side, raising a brow though, giving Vincent the once-over a little more deliberately.

"Rogues gives itz commanding officers pretty slick uniforms..." he would mention slowly and deliberately.

"Othervise, I'd think you'd come here to impress me.~"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Such long, ticklish fingers almost made the grouchy German shake, but they were sharp enough to tear skin so he stifled himself. His left hand would pull adjust the covers to go over the both of them better, to help warm them up.

"...Ich dreamed... that zat asshole und Vincent ver together..."

---His eye popped wide open. He twitched, suddenly pulling Vespyr very tightly to himself in a strange, horrified silence.

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]If the Suit Fits...[/shadow]

---

Very slowly, the corners of Vincent’s lips crept back and he… grinned, somewhat deviously, at the German. A rare sight.

“… All my clothes were at your apartment. Vespyr and I are the same size, and she had a few of these lying around…”

The smile quickly faded and Vincent was deliberately staring down the hall to avoid staring at or making any comment about “Unfettered”’s own rather tasteful choice of attire. His gaze was mischievously dark.

“…You just might get me out of it.”

Deliberate pause.

“…You know, if my other clothes were among the things you salvaged.”

---

As Vespyr lay curled against his warming body, he twitched and pulled her closer. She sighed.

“Why do you think I’m here.”

[/blockquote]

["Unfettered"]

"Very Important Meeting"

The aroma of the coffee was more pleasant today. Thicker, but pleasant. He was so enamored that "Unfettered" almost spilled his coffee at Vincent's sleight-of-hand words. He noted, much to his pleasure, how much more confidently his compatriot held himself these days and the... amount of daring his compatriot had attained with his way of speaking.

"Really...

"But ze suit suits du rather vell..."

He'd pause and grin really obviously, staring at him blatantly now.

"Really vell."

The German would laugh.

"Du are stronger or more dutiful these days," "Unfettered" would say, bumping his shoulder playfully into Vincent's.

"...Or both."

He would smile at the man, both admiringly and pleased at the improvement.

"Zer ist apparently much on ze agenda today.~"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Irritably, "Teal" would grumble, agreeing and let silence slip back in between them...

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]Mm, Leather.[/shadow]

---

“…Thank you,” Vincent said as he lifted the mug to his lips again, took a sip, and had his shoulder bumped. A small amount of coffee licked over the edge of the cup and spilled onto Vincent’s hand. The man regarded it with a twitch in his eye and then, hoping no one would see, quickly swiped the tip of his tongue across the black leather webbed between his thumb and index finger to catch the escaped coffee before it could get anywhere. He would continue to follow “Unfettered” down the hall in his guarded nonchalant way, throwing an occasional sidelong glance at the man for… reasons.

“…I’m in no hurry to get out of here. I suppose there will be plenty of time to get things done.”

His voice was quiet, stern… to anyone overhearing their conversation, there would have been no doubt that talk of serious business was going on. What kind of business, though, remained a mystery.~

["Unfettered"]

Sorting Things Out
Bit By Bit

"Keke, of course. Du are velcome to stay as long as du vant."

"Unfettered" would take Vincent to walk down the hall with him, until they came to a certain door with a small window on it. The window itself was covered over with blinds, keeping the entire contents of the room a mystery. With a smile, the German opened the door and held it for his compatriot to step into.

It was exactly what Vincent probably would have figured the room to be. Probably.

There were several tables and baskets in the moderately sized room with labels, most of the stuff just aggregated groups of "junk" and destroyed material. Nothing fishy except that the all the windows were covered with blinds, keeping the overly bright sun out...

"Unfettered" would get serious for a moment and point to a certain pile, in the corner of the room.

"Here ist most of ze stuff zat ve could figure belonged in ze apartment. Vatever du may have vould probably be in zis pile," the German would say, walking over to it. He would pull out a chair for Vincent, before going around the table to get another wooden basket...

[Vincent.]

[shadow=black,left,300]Disowning the Past[/shadow]

---

Vincent’s gaze shifted down the hallway for a moment before he stepped through the door. The expression he wore was nondescript, neither uninterested nor overly curious about the room he was stepping into which was, for a moment or so, cryptically dark. Then his pupils adjusted in their violet orbs and he saw the dimly lit room filled with piles of junk. The shades over the windows were drawn, leaving the room comfortably deficient of light. A few stray cracks in the blinds bled a faint sunny glow across the chamber, which gently illuminated the fine dust lingering in the air above the piles. Heaps of things, all junky and derelict, sat patiently, waiting to be sorted through. Lost things, broken things, unwanted things, forgotten things. Things that were probably useless now because of the context they were living in. Vincent panned his gaze across the graveyard of belongings and felt a sort of chill run through his chest, though he didn’t know why at first.

He followed “Unfettered” across the room, slowly, with a sort of caution, or perhaps reverence, for the looming junk-piles. His visage was no longer demure, or guarded, or stern, or anything that he had he could have consciously thought about. Upon entering the room he seemed to forget the titillating game of secrecy and innuendo he had begun with the German. His anxiety over being in an unknown place amongst unknown people, while making his awkward attempts at the little game, slipped his mind. His face was not emotionless, but the expression he wore was something unreadable: grave, but not concerned; somber, but not sad. As he picked his way over to the corner of the room, Vincent became quite pensive, and when at last he was staring at the pile of his old belongings his brow had furrowed slightly and he realized that none of it was really his. Of course, these things had belonged to him once… but in a past life.

Vincent reached out and ran his gloved fingers along an arbitrary article of clothing—a black button-up shirt—and he brushed the dust off of it. Even when the dirt was gone and the black fabric looked pure, the thing still didn’t seem important and Vincent moved it aside. There were more clothes, half-vomited up from a broken briefcase, one of two he had brought with him to “Unfettered”’s place… how long ago? It felt longer than it had been. He dug through his old clothes, through dust-covered and unfolded garments and spotless, folded ones as if they were no different. He picked up and flipped through a Sudoku book, aimlessly letting his gaze drift across the neat little pages and the neat little boxes and his neat little numbers all in the right places. Hours of concentration lay between those pages. Then he dropped it like a piece of trash. He pulled his laptop out of the pile in two parts, first the screen and then the half with the keyboard, and stared at the useless scrap of metal and plastic with a distant look in his violet eyes. He tried to remember what was even on the computer that had been important. Nothing but a log of information he had been collecting about Vespyr, which was obsolete now. He dropped the computer.

After another minute or so of aimless fumbling through things he no longer considered his, Vincent’s hand brushed against something small and firm shrouded in fabric. He pulled out a pair of black pants from the heap of other clothes and felt around for the thing, which he found deep in a pocket. So he slipped his hand in and pulled out a slim black leather wallet from the pants, he realized, must have been the last pair of his nice clothes he’d worn before the world ended. The night after uncannily meeting “Unfettered” at Starbucks, after the hectic shoot-out in front of the Coffee Bean, after being moved into the German’s apartment, after having a sort of drunken heart-to-heart with the man he’d only just met but had already begun to (reluctantly) develop a fondness for, Vincent found himself alone in his compatriot’s room, stripped his clothes off, and fell into a fitful sleep. The next morning, knowing it wasn’t worth dirtying any more laundry over, Vincent put on jeans and a tank-top and left his wallet in the pocket of his other pants.

He flipped the wallet open and began to pick through its contents with his nimble fingers. Worthless cash, totaling a few hundred in twenties, fluttered to the ground. Vincent’s fake ID, which stated only the man’s first name and implied that he was twenty-three, fell into the pile of unwanted things. The tiny picture of himself on the card had been taken almost four years ago and looked considerably younger. The difference was not so much physical; his face was the same, his hair was the same only cut shorter, and he still wore a black-collared shirt. But the expression that faced hopelessly up at the ceiling seemed softer and less mature, as if the bitterness and woe that haunted his eyes then had been rendered childish by the toils he had endured since the picture was taken. Vincent’s hair had grown out a little over the past few months, and it wasn’t long but it was longer than he would have preferred back in the day. The clothes he wore at the moment were nice, but when he was lazing around in the officer’s building he wore his jeans and tank top, which had torn considerably but he didn’t seem to care. And if there was bitterness or woe in his eyes, Vincent hid it well behind a wall of stern solemnity.

That very look was in his eyes as he dug his fingers into one of the card pockets in the wallet that appeared to be empty. It wasn’t. A folded slip of paper, possibly a note or a photograph, came out between his fingers and was whisked away into the breast pocket of his uniform without even being examined. Vincent tossed the empty wallet onto the pile of his ex-belongings and flicked his amethyst gaze up to “Unfettered”.

“I changed my mind. I don’t need any of this.”