thirsted | SALTBURNT

He was really nice. [ And cute, and flusterable, but that might be weird to say. ] Wild stories from his magical education, which is extra interesting for me because I don't have any of that background.

[ He rolls his eyes — just one meeting and Matt's already gotten an earful about Gale's Academy days. ]

You know, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to teach you a little of what he picked up in school, if he hasn't offered to already.

[ To be TOTALLY FAIR TO GALE, Matt lowkey bullied the Academy story out of him. ]

He has, in fact. He very generously offered to compare notes

and intimated he might find me impressive.

(Don't worry, I didn't tell him about the catering thing. And I won't unless you sign off)

[ Look, as far as Matt's concerned, he's been a model of discretion. ]

[ He might find me impressive gets an audible eugh, which is, blessedly, reserved solely for Shadowheart's avian ears. ]

As much as I appreciate your discretion, I imagine he's seen through the ruse already. All that to say, I don't mind if you mention it to him.

[ Because, as sickening as it is to be known to have gone through some effort to do Gale a favor, it still reflects well on him. ]

When's your first study session?

I think he's gonna let me know

[ Or maybe Matt was supposed to text him first? There's a 45-minute spiral somewhere in Matt's near future over this. ]

So that's the latest there. I was glad to meet him. [ Matt is tempted to add more about how he's glad to know people are looking out for Astarion, how he's glad he has Gale and Lauralae. But when he types it out it kind of looks like he's saying Astarion isn't friendly or lovable? Which is not what he means at all. ] On a not super related note, I had a question for you

[ tfw you'd call yourself unfriendly and unlovable but get mad and lowkey hurt if anyone else said the same thing ]

Let's hear it, then.

It's come to my attention [ largely through Harry yelling caringly at him ] that I could benefit from a little "me time." Relax, unwind, etc.

And I was thinking I had a nice time out with you

just around the lake, you know. So if you ever wanted to do anything like that again it might be fun

[ ... oh! ]

I'd like that.

[ Uncharacteristically sincere! Moving on!!! ]

You're familiar with movies, aren't you? I'd been wondering if I hadn't been taking enough advantage of the theater here.

I am familiar with movies. Not all that familiar for somebody who grew up in a world full of them, but you know.

I haven't spent much time in the theater.

It'd be kind of a change of pace for me

[ A change of pace, apparently, is what he needs. A shift into unproductive downtime. Plus, Astarion's from a world where people still wear ruffly poet shirts, so Matt wouldn't have to fret about the fact that he can't just enjoy movies like normal people do. Astarion doesn't know what normal's supposed to look like. ]

Pick something for us, then, and I'll meet you there at a time of your choosing.

[ There's a chance he'll regret leaving the assignment so open-ended, but only time will tell. ]

You got it

[ Matt chooses a time. He only shows up to the theater a few minutes ahead of that time to pick the movie, but there's a method to his madness. Since he has no hope of actually finding a film he likes amid the Balfours' selection, he uses the time-honored strategy of closing his eyes and pointing at the shelf of DVDs. What's a little divination between friends?

When Astarion shows up, Matt brightens. He's lounging on one of the couches, dressed in what he feels to be a very normal sweater-and-trouser combo. Nary a burn hole to be seen! The screen announces that the film is Sleepless in Seattle, waiting only for someone to hit play on the little remote. ]

Hi, [ he says. Is Astarion's nose good enough to pick up the dealer's choice on Matt's skin? That's the fragrance he's gone with today, leaving hot toddy for another time. ]

Edited (i had ONE JOB and it was don't forget the PERFUME) 2024-12-04 01:53 (UTC)

[ Matt shows up a few minutes ahead, and Astarion appears shortly after, not one to be late despite the appearance of someone who has never taken the comfort of others particularly seriously. ]

Hello, darling, [ he trills back, fingers flitting through the air in a wave as he makes his way across the room to the couch Matt's chosen, his head turned to take in the image projected on the screen. As he drops into his seat: ] Seattle— a city? Or country?

[ Then, following a pause — or, more aptly, an opportunity to take a breath (and delivered in a tone of voice that is quite obviously pleased): ] Adorned with a little fragrance, I see.

[ Matt's mouth lilts crookedly for darling. ]

City, [ he confirms. ] It's actually the same city where I was supposed to be going to school, before-- [ His turn for a flutter of fingers, this one dismissive. ] --all this. Or at least they have the same name.

[ Matt's expression brightens to a proper smile when Astarion compliments the perfume. ]

Yeah, I go to this really talented guy here in the manor. [ Matt reaches for the remote and presses play. ] If you play your cards right I'll give you his contact info.

[ He's not expecting much from this movie--he just hopes it won't be too weird or traumatizing or maudlin or any number of things Astarion might not like. But Matt's anxieties dissipate in a puff of curiosity as the film starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan opens on a goddamn funeral. ]

[ All Astarion gets in before the movie begins is a good-natured, ] Eugh, [ as he decides to let any further nagging go and settle in for the movie. (It's a little unsettling at first, not for any virtue or vice of the movie itself but because of the alien nature of watching a movie at all, but he gets used to it.)

It's a balance, at first, swaying between finding some things maudlin and some things appropriately sharp, and whatever slyness remains in his expression has dissipated within the first fifteen minutes. (Most of the rest of it is relatively familiar, at least, given the months he's had to get used to the mansion, though a few details require context clues to fill out.) Engrossed, he shifts to cross his legs, his posture angling him toward Matt as he hooks one arm over the back of the seat, bending back at the elbow so he can rest his head against the palm of his hand. ]

[ Is that a good noise of disgust? Matt thinks it's a good one. Either way, he can't repress a quirk of a smile in return before his gaze slides to the screen.

He doesn't really grok the language of romantic comedies. He's not even sure this is one; do people's moms usually die in the opening scenes of those? But he knows his poems, prayers, and spells. Repeated motifs are important in all three; so's symmetry. He's pleased by the echoes of this and that--words spoken at the same time, magic and the touch of hands. Matt himself is pretty quiet, speaking mainly to answer a question of Astarion's or to make the very occasional arch remark.

He starts off curled up on his side of the couch, feet tucked under him because as a person, he refuses to respect the Balfours' furniture, and as a bisexual he doesn't know how to sit. As the movie foxtrots on, he starts to unfurl, angling towards Astarion in turn without fully realizing it. It's a natural mirror to make on Matt's end, easy and warm, even without any actual contact. ]

[ Romantic comedy isn't really a genre that instantly appeals to Astarion, either — or rather, it's one thorny topic on top of another, his earlier, more romantic nature made cynical by two hundred years of gleefully inflicted suffering — and yet whatever archness is contained in his own voice gradually diffuses until he's mostly silent, worrying his lower lip as the movie continues. (Only the vague worry that his lot in life might be Walter's sours the air, though it comes and goes easily enough.)

It takes him a moment, as such, to realize the way both of them have shifted. The movie is a blessing in that it keeps Matt's attention even as Astarion looks at him, a sigh, unbidden, filling his chest as he thinks about— connection. Fondness. Care. Things that have been long absent from his life, things he'd initially thought to shirk.

So— he crosses his legs the other way, lets the motion to bring him closer — a test of what they're each willing to allow — so that their shoulders brush. ]

[ Matt's conscious thoughts are preoccupied mostly with the travails of Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks, and the poor little boy who's lost his mother. With pattern-spotting, or perhaps pattern-making. As for the subconscious ...

That's the nice thing. In moments like this, Matt doesn't have to think. Ebb and flow is all there is. He imagines he feels eyes on him, but his head doesn't turn; though his lips twitch ever-so-slightly upward. And, at the first brush of their shoulders, Matt exhales: soft, not quite enough weight to count as a sigh. The breath lets a little more of his weight settle against Astarion's.

Matt lets a few moments pass. A couple beats of the movie, a few jaunty bars of score. Then, delicately, he tips his head to the side--really, only enough for the tips of his dark hair to brush Astarion's haloing white. A counter-test, perhaps. He thinks of saying something--it's okay, or maybe just I'm here--but both sentiments sound stupid even in his head. ]

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annnnd action 🎬🍿🌌🪡 (get it ... space + needle ... seattle ...)

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