the one where things get messy.

[pathography]

tbd.

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[whatsinfrontofyou]

Vex, as it happens, would consider herself a very competent flirt. Whether or not that's a good thing is a point she has no intention of opening for debate, even with herself, which might be why she pushes away the question of if this is a good idea as she sidles a little closer to Percy.

Close enough that when she crosses her legs, she can hook her heel around one of Percy's ankles.

"Might you?" She glances over her shoulder, making sure Vax is otherwise occupied before she leans in closer. "You don't sound entirely sure."

[pathography]

He flushes scarlet, right up to the roots of his hair, eyes going wide despite his best attempt to play this conversation cool. It's not, he knows, like she's said or done anything particularly shocking; this sort of thing happens to people every day. But it doesn't happen to him, and the sudden pressure of her foot against his is staggering.

She's a force to be reckoned with, this Vex'ahlia. Her mouth is so near, her eyes so...devious? Devious, he thinks.

"I - uh -" Sputtering out random syllables in hopes that one might coalesce into a real sentence isn't going to save him, he knows. Taking a breath, he tries again. "Fine. Yes, I'll take you up on it."

(A moment later, the little glance over her shoulder registers in his mind - but his first interpretation is she doesn't mean any of this, and she's making sure no one mistakes her for doing so. Too late, de Rolo, you've cast your die, and now you'll have to see what ridicule might befall you.)

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Her boot against his isn't the most sensual experience in the world, but Vex does think it communicates something. She raises, then points her toe, a very deliberate contact.

Her gaze is equally deliberate and unblinking as she holds Percy's, then flicks toward the door and the street outside before coming back. One brow cocks in a question.

"Meet me outside? I'll settle our tab and join you."

[pathography]

"Sure." She's an excellent communicator, as it happens, and Percy nods his head sharply, eyes bright beneath his furrowed brow. He hasn't quite decided whether to be nervous or excited or suspicious and has instead opted for all three.

He probably looks like a lunatic, he thinks as he downs the last few bites of meat and broth, then abandons his bowl to stalk over to the door. He's not actually that nervous now that he's agreed to the idea; instead, he's simply self-conscious, hoping against all hope that no one notices him slip outside.

By the time Vex joins him, he's leaning against the wall of the tavern, trying to get the grime out from under his fingernails. He straightens up at the sight of her and tries to get his voice under his own control. "Hello again."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"Hello, de Rolo," Vex says with a smile, her chin lifted and eyes sharp. Any air of elegance she might have projected is undermined by the high, pink flush of alcohol in her cheeks and the fact her braid has lost more strands, framing her face in irregular wisps. "Or should I call you Percival?"

Considering her intentions for the evening, it seems natural.

"It does seem like we're going to be on friendly terms for a while."

[pathography]

"Percy, actually," he says, and there's that little tinge coming back into his cheeks. "My friends call me Percy."

It sounds ludicrous as soon as he says it - friends, as though he's had any of those in years. It's hard to remember the last time he's heard anyone call him Percy, for that matter, and right now, he doesn't want to try.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he adds a too-bright, "So. Where to," and gives himself a mental kick in the pants. Get it together, for fuck's sake.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

A little smile curls her lips when he volunteers the nickname. Percy is a much easier name to say in bed, at least.

"There's a bathhouse this way." She tips her head up the street, both indication and invitation as she starts walking that direction at a leisurely pace. "I considered asking the innkeeper if they could roll a tub up to one of the rooms, but this seemed to offer a tad bit more privacy."

She's still smiling when she takes her eyes over him.

"And a better location to get you thoroughly clean."

[pathography]

"Ah." Percy falls into step with her, trying not to feel her eyes crawling over him too obviously. At the moment, he can't imagine he's an especially tantalizing option - but she seems to see a fixer-upper when she looks at him, if her teasing's to be believed.

And at the moment, he supposes he has no reason not to believe her. They're on their way to a bathhouse whose facilities will have to be paid for by her own coin; he doesn't get the sense Vex'ahlia wastes money easily. (Spending it on drink clearly doesn't count as a waste to her. "I'm intrigued. I can't remember the last time I was thoroughly clean."

If he talks about their destination with a kind of detached irony, like all of this is happening to someone else, he can probably make it through without going red again.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"All the more reason you should be now."

It will make what she has planned for after a good deal more pleasant. Among other things. Vex's flirtations are easy, practiced. A persona that she wears as easily as an old coat.

"And an indication my instinct that you might need a second pair of hands to make sure it's done properly is right."

One hand goes to his chin, the back of her fingers stroking his whiskers.

"I'd offer to give you a shave, but you might want me a bit more sober for that."

[pathography]

He shivers at her touch, wondering just when his jaw became so sensitive. Perhaps it's the aforementioned whiskers making the brush of her hand feel so much more intense - or else he's just that desperate for someone's attention turned his way. (Which doesn't really feel like him, but it's been a long time since he could claim another person's attention this absolutely. Maybe he's a reprobate now.)

"I don't think either of us can be trusted with a razor right now - and I lack any kind of magical prowess." Still more of that quiet, dry humor, hoping against hope he can come through this conversation looking reasonably self-assured. "So I'm afraid you're stuck with the stubble."

If she's intending for the bath to be a mere appetizer of things to come, at least. Belatedly, he realizes all of this means she's going to see him naked; only the miracle of alcohol keeps his heart from thudding wildly at the idea, instead offering the inane thought, The stubble will seem like nothing compared to the scars.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"It's too bad," Vex comments breezily, a tone that would seem to indicate it isn't actually all that bad. "I bet you clean up nicely—like taking the tarnish off a silver coin."

It's a very specific compliment, but Vex feels that it's fitting. Even down on his luck, Percy has the air of money, and with his white hair, his ice green eyes and fair skin, he does make a good silver piece. The fact he's still so young only highlights the fact.

"But I suspect we'll both be grateful to get the smell of the prison off."

[pathography]

"I suspect you're right," he says, because he's got no idea what to say in response to the compliment. It doesn't rise to the level of a blush from him, but he's still set slightly off-kilter by the idea of someone seeing that much to speak well of in his looks. Particularly not after a rough stay in a barred cell.

Falling silent, he walks with her to the bathhouse, and inside, it's immediately warmer and more humid. Percy stands beside Vex and lets her pay their entry, watching with fascination as she manages to sweet-talk her way into a discount. As they walk down a short corridor to the changing rooms, he says in a low tone, "Very persuasive."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

For her part, Vex has no problem taking over as the face of their little breakout party. She has no problem doing the talking for her people in general—prefers it, even. As much as they would say there's no leader in their little group, when there's a need for plans or for someone to speak on their behalf, it was usually Vex.

Nice to have that appreciated for a change.

"Lucky for you to have me around to negotiate for you," she says, mildly enough for it not to sound insulting, but still full of a certain bravado. The ale isn't hurting there.

On impulse, she reaches for his lapel, tugging playfully.

"I should have seen if I could get them to include washing this."

[pathography]

"Consider me grateful." In the short time he's known her, Vex has come off as the de facto head of this little group. She controls the coin, does the negotiating, and isn't shy about sharing her opinion on what they should be doing with their time. It holds here as well

When she comments on his clothing, he groans - not in a sexy way, without any blushing. "I'd ask them to burn it, if I had anything to replace it with. I'm not sure any of my clothing is salvageable."

And then there's a room with inset shelves for storing clothing and weapons whilst bathing. Percy turns away from Vex, hoping to give her a bit of privacy, and folds each item he takes off before setting it away. He's dawdling, he knows, taking too much time to pull off his boots so he doesn't have to unbutton his shirt, but the conversation around his torso is never a pleasant one - and things have been strangely pleasant so far. He'd love for them to stay that way.

Eventually, he ends up stripped down to the skin, wrapping a towel around his waist for modesty, and decides the best option is likely to pretend there's nothing notable about his appearance. Vex might ask, but she'll have to be the one to bring up the ugly terrain of scarred flesh, every cut on his body too straight and clean to be naturally acquired. Affecting a bright voice, he turns back to her and starts walking toward the door into the bathing area. "Shall we?"

[whatsinfrontofyou]

He'll find that Vex isn't especially shy, not about her own body, nor about looking at someone else's. Whether or not Percy looks, she doesn't try to hide. Her clothes come off and are tucked away, revealing long, tan limbs and toned curves. She watches him out of the corner of her eye to see if he notices.

She also looks out of the corner of her eye to see him, filthy as he is, and pauses when she starts counting the scars. She's not open in studying them, but she does take in the sight, gaze flicking up to Percy's profile while she reconsiders what she knows about the man.

She follows his lead, wrapping a towel around her body though it barely makes it as far as her legs.

"Of course, darling," she says, her voice natural. If the scars bother her, she doesn't show a sign of it. "One moment."

The last thing she does is take down her hair, tucking the feather that adorned her braid safely away among her clothes before unraveling her braid across her shoulder.

"There. Now... follow me."

[pathography]

He can feel her eyes on him, he thinks - but he has the feeling he'd have that same crawling sensation even with her back to him. It'll pass, he knows. Eventually, she'll draw whatever conclusions she chooses, and that'll be that. If he sticks around for a while, he'll have to go through the whole thing over again with the others, but with Vex, it'll be over.

Hopefully.

"Of course," he says crisply. The desire for modesty's never quite abandoned him, at least not in mixed company, but his attention can't help but stray toward Vex as they continue onward. Percy's gaze cuts over and back again; he takes in the slim, athletic shape of her, realizes he's doing it, and makes himself look forward. Lather, rinse, repeat. Having abandoned his glasses with his clothing, he's likely squinting, too, and God, why don't you be more obvious about it? Clearing his throat, he asks, "Have you, er, been here before?"

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"The bathhouse?" She asks as clarification, her tone lightly ironic. It's not exactly an attraction, though she supposes it's practical enough to justify coming back again. "Or the town?"

Vex drops back to walk beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own, her skin already lightly damp from the ambient heat.

"Relax, darling. I'm not going to bite." Probably. Unless he wants her too.

After a beat, she asks, "How bad are your eyes without the glasses?"

[pathography]

Percy doesn't answer her first questions, a vague sense of embarrassment coming over him. It's novel, actually, trying and failing to talk to a woman - the stakes are so low, and yet he'd rather face a fight. And Vex in particular seems to have mastered the art of leaving people tongue-tied.

(Him, at least. Every time he remembers he's here beside her - especially after her naked shoulder nudges against his - it's like he swallowed a beehive. With his clothes on, refusing to let himself think too deeply on anything, he meets the bare minimum of small talk. Now there's no way to forget himself, no armor between him and the rest of the world.)

Her second question, he can manage, at least. With something besides a towel on, he could probably deliver the answer with the tenor of a lecturing professor. Right now, his voice comes out softer, guarded but genuine. "The world's blurrier. Anything near to hand, I can see all right - but the further away something is, the less detail I have."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"Is that to say I'll have to be close enough to make sure you can appreciate the view?" Vex asks boldly; at this point, she doesn't see a point in playing coy.

Percy is too twitchy for coyness, shy enough for both of them.

Not to put too fine of a point on it, but it's more fun to watch him squirm.

[pathography]

"I, ah -" His neck's flushing pink along with his cheeks, and it's not from the humid heat of the room they're walking into. She's doing this on purpose, and he knows it - but the strange thing is, it doesn't feel terrible. Somehow, it's mortifying but relatively painless; there's something kind to it, a warmth underlying everything she says.

She's flirting with you, idiot. But the idea of that, that someone could find him next to a moldering corpse and decide he's worth this much trouble, is still baffling. The pickings might be slim within her group, depending on what she's interested in, but there were other patrons at the tavern. There's a town full of people who don't need a charity bath to be fuckable, and who can string three words together when a beautiful woman asks probing questions. The accent surely can't be that tempting.

Still, it's flattering, and he's trying to keep up his end of the conversation, if only because he hates the idea that she'll grow bored, and all this will end. The thought of that is...lonesome, truthfully. He clears his throat yet again. "That's to say that it depends on what you'd like me to see."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"Like, the obvious answer is the tits. They're really top shelf. It'd be a shame to miss them." Vex's tone is an ironic mix of pride and self-deprecation, secure in the fact that she's objectively morbidly attractive—and also aware that her tits are really the only reason most men (or women, honestly) are interested in her.

She raises her hand, carefully, and traces a line of keloid across his shoulder.

"Or you could see mine; I do have a few scars of my own."

She softens slightly. Not soft, but a kind of reassurance. She sees them, and she's not put off.

"I suppose if you have trouble seeing, there are other senses you could engage instead."

[pathography]

Percy's shoulder tenses under her touch; by instinct, he turns his face away. A moment later, silently calling himself a coward, he forces himself to look her in the eyes. Her face is blurry, but it's not incomprehensible, and what he can see of her expression seems...not unkind. His, meanwhile, is a squinty sort of embarrassment, but he's forcing himself not to shrink back from any of this.

He doesn't actually want to pull away, is the thing - or to leave, or to beg off debauching themselves once he no longer smells like his decaying cellmate. (She really does seem committed to the possibility of debauchery, after all.) If he's honest with himself, and at the moment that's a big ask, he wants nothing less than to reach for her hand and set it back on his shoulder. He wants the proof of her interest to radiate from her palm into his skin. He didn't realize how badly he wanted someone to touch him until someone did.

"I -" Keep starting sentences without knowing how to finish them. Try again, de Rolo. He draws in a breath, sharp and deliberate. "I'm not opposed to a...multisensory approach. But if you're interested, I'll make a proper visual study later, when I've got my glasses on again."

Dear God, it's a mystery how he manages to sound both forward and stuffy at the same time. But he really is trying.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Vex's first thought: Gods, but Percy is more tense about the prospect of sex than anyone she's met in a long time. Possibly ever, which is saying something.

Her second, softer: There is probably a reason for that.

Whatever the source of his anxiety, like his scars, is his own. They've barely known each other more than a few hours and she is being remarkably forward in all of this. She won't ask. She has no interest in prying.

However, she can have some compassion.

Rather than trace any scars, Vex places her hand on Percy's back, firmly between his shoulder blades, and urges him toward the bath.

"We'll see how it goes. Unfortunately, what I had in mind still might steam them up."

[pathography]

He doesn't need much urging, at least when it comes to the bath. The longer they're in the steamy air, the grimier he's starting to feel; it's hard to miss the thin layer of dried sweat and dirt on his skin once it's rehumidified.

(Which makes it all the more astonishing that Vex'ahlia's hand lands directly over his spine, pressed flat against his filthy back. They're both about to wash, but he still feels halfway-untouchable, under the circumstances.)

"It probably will," he says, as though the idea of their coupling is an inevitability he believes in as clearly as she does, "but I might catch a bit more of the, er, view beforehand."

And perhaps her encouragement is catching, because at the edge of the bath, he decides there's no reason to drag out the inevitable. He unwraps his towel and folds it before setting it aside, and steps into the steaming water, settling down into it with a little sigh. Whatever else might be true of his lean frame, the worst scarring is above the waist - a quick glance at his groin makes it clear that it hasn't sustained visible damage, even if there are a few more cuts to be found on his thighs.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Vex does look, and she doesn't hide the fact. It's not too bold—she doesn't leer. But she does tilt her head and glance down, taking in a few more scars, the full sight of his wiry frame. All long limbs and rangy muscle. The extend of the damage. Also, the size of his cock.

Not that she was worried, but what she sees certainly is not not a deal breaker.

"We'll make sure you get a chance then," she says lightly. She unwraps herself, dropping her towel in a pile for later

Then she steps into the water. She savors the feel of it openly, giving herself permission to be sensual as she sinks into the warm bath. It's a luxury they can rarely take advantage of, and for today she considers it worth the cost.

Part of a little treat for herself.

"C'mon, darling," Vex invites him. "Let's get the prison funk off of you."