glimmerous_fop | [accidental video ]

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[accidental video ]

[When the feed cuts on there are a few things so incredibly obvious about the scene that anyone familiar with Klavier would know instantly that this was not typical:

A. He has no idea he's being recorded...well this is pretty normal...but his enduring lack of awareness is not.

B. He is in his office and he seems to be working diligently. When has he ever been shown in his office working harder than he plays?

C. Judging by the mountain of paper work and his unkempt, unpolished, devil-may-care appearance he appears to have been here for a while.

And

D. The look on his face suggests he's in a very bad mood on this very fine day.

Which doesn't help when his secretary comes in to check his pulse, thus disturbing the furious flow of his work. And the community is treated to the following interaction:]

What are you doing?

I wanted to make sure you were alive...you've holed yourself up and you haven't come out for hours. Aren't you hungry? Tired?

I'm neither, now leave me, I'm busy.

Clearly something is bothering you, you're more dedicated to your paper work than normal. Won't you trust me and tell me what it is?

I've learned a valuable lesson about naiveté and trust and that it's okay to trust people up till and except when evidence to the contrary proves you're mistaken. Then you're just being gullible.

Anything I can help with?

No, please leave.

But I'm really concerned about you.

I don't need you to be, now leave me alone.

But Mr. Gavin-

[The usually tolerant Klavier brings his fist down hard against the table he's working at sending some papers and a few unstable items flying off while startling his secretary. For a moment his expression is a bit unhinged and vaguely reminiscent of another Gavin.]

Oh!

I said get out!

Yes...you're right...I apologize...

[And soon enough Klavier is alone again in his office and though he seems calm his mood hasn't changed.]

Damn...

[ooc: Normal text is Klavier, italics belong to his secretary.]

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[With a held in sigh, he looks down at his unfortunately cigaretteless hand, then off down the opposite end of the hallway. His foot taps at the open air twice as he resits the urge to clear his throat awkwardly.

Taking things to heart would be like taking a drunk's emotional statements seriously. Beyond that, the ex-rocker's a habitual flatterer and flirt even when sober and well rested... The kind of guy who is unfortunately very aware of how good he looks naked, and yet can climb into a bathtub naked with someone and start giving them a massage, not expecting anything to come of it... or who can at least claim to be such a person.]

You don't need to be scared of people. It doesn't suit you. At least, that's... While I'm around...

[Aaaah, I'm getting sucked into his pace.]

[Certainly Klavier knew he was attractive, but his fling with Issei had still been unexpected. It really was pretty innocent as far as he'd been concerned, or it had started that way. Klavier wasn't trying to be seductive and he'd always had the impression that he wasn't Issei's type so he didn't really think too hard about looks around Issei. Of course he was intentionally suggestive around the monk at the best of times, but that was to get a rise out of him. He figured that attitude acted as a kind of repellent, so inviting Issei for a few hours of inner enlightenment should have been nothing, it just happened that way.

Anyway, Klavier couldn't explain it in a way that would ever make sense to Greed and the other seemed to not believe him regardless. But he wasn't going to force himself in a sexual relationship with Issei either, not if it meant having to deal with Helicopter Greed. Though there was this genuine notion that the ex-rocker didn't really want to upset Greed anymore and it hadn't been his intention this time either which was why he wanted it quiet. So maybe he was more upset with himself than anyone else, but his own insecurities forced him to put the blame elsewhere. That was a reality he didn't care to think about.]

Hn...? I wish I could be that perfect...you already know I'm flawed...but if you don't want me to fear you then that's something I can work on...I really don't mean to hurt you...

Be scared. I'll still beat the hell out of you. Don't think once you get some sleep yer off the hook.

But... I'm the kinda guy who drinks hard and likes the kinda stuff that'll fuck a guy up a little. So don't worry about hurting me. It's... probably fine if it's just a part of you bein' imperfect. I li... that kinda thing's a kick. I told you I wanna see those rough parts of you you don't wanna show. It's Equivalent Exchange. I get to see it.

Hn...You should be more clear on what you wand from me...should I be afraid...shouldn't I be afraid...or should I follow my own instincts which tells me to be appropriately afraid when the mood strikes?

Hn...some how I think this whole equivalent exchange thing is just a way for you to get what you want sometimes. It's some kind of rule isn't it? You didn't strike me as the type...more like the march to the beat of your own drum type...

You should be honest. I'm honest when I do things to you, so if yer honestly afraid of it, it's a real two-way, honest relationship. For better or worse.

It's more like a principle. Don't I usually play fair with you? I'm a principled guy like that.

Honesty...there's no such thing that exists between us, I can't get why you're trying to find something like that.

No, you don't always, but then again we have different interpretations of what's fair.

Yeah. I guess you wouldn't get it... You've always been kinda bad at simple stuff. [With that, he finally pushes to a stand.] You oughtta be all right here for a little while, right?

Mmm...it's more like...you would refuse to believe it if I told you I was being honest so I've given up trying... [Klavier leans back against the frame of the door again closing his eyes nodding at Greed's question] Mm...I will.

[He stands staring down at him with no actual motion to leave after standing up, though.]

[Being stared at does make trying to get some shuteye a little difficult so he cracks an eye open and watches Greed curiously.] You're going home...? I know it's hard for you to believe what I say, but I'll be alright. The odds of someone kidnapping me are very small.

Eh? Home? [That snaps him off of whatever he was thinking of; he was probably looking for a distraction not to follow up on that thought, as it is.] Ah, no, I... yer keys're...

Well... Just... get some rest, for now.

[It's really not fair to pick on him or listen to him too much if he's that tired. After taking a few steps back, keeping an eye on him for no clear reason, Greed returns to the elevator.

He's walked from the office to the apartment before, so the reverse isn't too hard to figure out. If the secretary is back in the office, he'll ask if she knows where he keeps his keys, willing to be as space-invasive as necessary to have her tell him just to make him go away. Otherwise, he'll look for a blazer or jacket first, check the pockets, and then, if still not finding anything, he'll begin making a mess of the place, flinging things everywhere in his search, also keeping a lookout for a wallet.]

[Too sleepy to try and comprehend anything beyond 'get some rest' Klavier endeavors to do just that, his eyes falling closed just as Greed steps back.

Fortunately for the secretary she has opted not to return yet, but Klavier's keys are not difficult to get his hands on. Small favors. He keeps both his wallet and his keys in his blazer and he keeps his blazer neatly hung on a small rack beside the door.]

[With no secretary to ask what he usually eats, Greed is on his own in LA with a blazer slung over his shoulder, a set of keys, a wallet, and a myriad of eateries to choose from.

Ex-rockers need nutrients at a time like this. He'll spare no expense. After all, it's not his expense he's sparing.

He arrives in the hallway with a plastic bag full of fully loaded gas station chili cheese dogs and a rainbow Popsicle, moving to unlock the door before making any attempt at waking Klavier up.]

[It's actually the highly unappetizing smell of the cheese dogs that stirs the ex-rocker who decides now would be a pretty good time to rejoin the land of the living. He's surprised to find Greed standing there with bags and the Homunculus unlocking his door.] Wha...?

[What are you talking about, that's the smell of Greed looking out for his nutrition, jamming all four food groups into one meal for him. Once the door is unlocked, he pushes it open, leaving Klavier without his support backing, then steps inside to toss his blazer on the couch and set the food down.] Feelin' any better yet? [If Klavier hasn't started to get up yet, Greed will return to hoist him up either by the collar or, if he's seeming particularly lethargic, around the waist like a sack to carry towards the bedroom.]

Hn...feel like shit...[Yes, if you want all of your minerals in one bite. And when Greed opens the door Klavier ends up rolling backwards, gazing at his own ceiling in a daze wondering just what was going on. His door wasn't broken...and Greed was here, and not home, with a bag full of something that had a very strong, savory, processed scent to it. It made his head feel heavy so lethargic it is.

And to that end he'll squawk when he's picked up around the waist and carried around like a barrel of booze.]...What're you doin'?

[If Greed sounds like he's smiling, it's probably just Klavier's imagination. It can't be that much fun for him to carry the other man into his own bedroom like that.]

Here. A bed. [And then he's dropped onto it just as carelessly as he was lifted. There's not much time to protest before he's heading out of the room again without a word.]

I can see th-! [Klavier makes it a point to land on all fours so that he's not flat on his face when Greed dumps him on the bed. He throws the retreating figure a scathing look over his shoulder knowing very well Greed was amused by it all.

This is probably the point where Greed leaves since the ex-rocker can't imagine him sticking around, but Klavier does wait a few minutes before opting to get undressed, pulling his t-shirt off over his head before kicking off his shoes. At least he could relax.]

[Greed's back before he can begin to strip, only leaving to grab the bag of food from where he left it. That gets lobbed onto the bed pretty carelessly, too; the grease is going to leak out onto the blanket at this rate.]

Here. Food.

Herr, what're you trying to do to my sheets!!!! [And it's because Klavier is aware of this grease that he is snappy when it comes to leaping up onto the bed and kicking the ball of grease right off. That's right, he kicks it off. Obsessed with his sheets much?]

[He watches the ball of oniony, meaty grease and corn syrup laden frozen imitation fruit juice fly with his kick and land on the floor, where it's still determined to leave a grease stain as proof of Greed's generous meal offering. He looks back to the blonde, decidedly feisty enough for a fight again, to the sheets, back to the greased bag, to the sheets, to Klavier, to the sheets, and finally to Klavier again.

He's seen quite a lot of sides of the attorney today. He feels the need to vocalize his learnings.]

You got into the habit of eatin' the after-juice just to keep it from drying on yer sheets, didn't you?

Herr...you're supposed to be a classy guy, I thought you would understand luxury...come here and look...[Klavier waves Greed toward the bed, before pulling up a corner of the bed sheet in an attempt to explain his strange behavior.]...these sheets are made of the finest merino wool backed with a thousand-count Egyptian cotton...but look closer these hand-made sheets are also threaded with gold. I can promise you that has nothing to do with why I swallow...that's something I do because I figure it gives you some pleasure...but I won't do it if it doesn't please you.

[Greed doesn't look too impressed. He wonders if he should pet the sheets, if that would suddenly make it clear. His own bed has some pretty damned fine sheets, even if they're not gold threaded.... Now he wants to try gold threaded, mind you, but...] What's the point of luxury if you can't take it for granted?

[As for swallowing, he's going to ignore that topic; it's a dangerous one to approach when in the bedroom. He's already almost crossed that line once today.]

It's fine if you take me for granted, but this is the place where I spend 1/3 of my time [and he says this while sinking down onto the bed, content that he saved it before the grease had a chance to stain his sheets.]

A nice bed's only good if you can do whatever you want in it. Once it's so nice it ends up somethin' you worry about instead of enjoying, it gets downgraded. [But he'll let it go, taking a step back and giving the ex-rocker and his high-dollar bed, and the entire room itself a look.] ...Anyway. That's probably enough for today.

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