Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts and ends, with a pink umbrella.

You’ve been in Portia shy of a month when Gust decides, out of the goodness of his heart, to acknowledge your existence longer than a few seconds and a sneer. It’s not great, he doesn’t use your name even though he knows it and you know he does because he signs off all your invoices with it. But acknowledgement is… something.

“Builder,” he says curtly as he catches sight of you on your way to the Commerce Guild. It feels more like a command, as if you were a dog, so you can’t help the frown that forms as you halt regardless.

“Gust,” You say equally flatly, meeting him with a blank expression.

“I have a request for you,” Nothing about your demeanor dissuades him, and he languidly rolls the words around on his tongue. “I am in need of an umbrella. How quickly can you make that happen?”

When you first got here, you were simply glad to be away from Barnarock. The towns people were welcoming despite their quirks, and the quaintness of Portia felt so stark against the rougher parts of the world as you had come to know it. Like a safe haven away from the wreckage of humanities hubris. You thought the only thorn in your side would be Higgins, until you had stumbled upon Ginger and Gust at the river.

Gale had made a joke about his son to you before you could put a face to the name, but you hadn’t expected this lanky man with delicate features and waves of strawberry blonde, slumbering like a princess waiting to be awoken. It’s why you didn’t immediately recognise him as being related to Ginger, who’s shock of red hair was unmistakably Gale’s, petite with all the same round features.

The momentary flutter you had felt from just how pretty this stranger was shattered in mere seconds, when he startled awake, narrowed his gaze at you and snapped in a tone sharp enough to slice.

How Gust dropped below Higgins in the townspeople you wanted to encounter on your walks, was truly a feat.

“Let’s try that again,” You sweetly coo, despite the slant of your expression. “‘Oh good morning Ava! I have a request that only you could fulfill, please would you be so kind as to consider it?’”

The two of you have an impressive staring competition where Gust comes out the loser, looking away with an annoyed ‘tchk’ and a reposition of his weight to his other leg. Always so casually bored of your presence he is. “I don’t have time for this. There are other builders around,”

You shrug, turning to continue on your merry way. “Tell Higgins I said hi,”

“Wait—“ You smirk, slowing in your step to regard him over your shoulder. Right where you want him, furrowed brow, pinched expression and exasperation on his tongue. “It’s urgent. And… you are the most competent builder for the task. And I’m willing to pay you. Can you please be cooperative this once?”

“I will if you will,” You state, extending your hand. Even two steps up, you barely reach his eye level, to receive the withering gaze he’s giving your outstretched hand.

“Fine,”

✤✤✤

You pride yourself on being nothing short of efficient and good, quality and a timely delivery what has helped your ascension in the ranks. Gust, who cares little for anything outside his own bubble, seems surprised by this; a personal favor fulfilled in just short of a day. Nevermind the Sea Urchin’s you had slayed shortly after you had met, or how it was the first thing you worked on once you returned to your workshop. This was a matter of pride – if Gust was going to treat you like dirt, you were damn well going to give him very little reason to.

Striding into A&G construction with one task in mind, you proudly thrust the umbrella into his hands, watching his eyes widen. “Forget the Gols,” You state, lifting your chin. “Next time you approach me, I want to be addressed by my name. Think you can manage that?”

His momentary surprise washes away, replaced by all the usual disinterest, though with just the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “Maybe,” Is all he offers you, like you were a mere delivery person. “It’s one umbrella, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

You gape at him, your mouth flapping open and closed like a fish at the blatant audacity. From the corner of your eye you notice the way Albert visibly winces at the interaction, but you hold your head high and turn to head out. Your hand just makes the doorknob before Gust’s cool voice halts you, with a, “It will do though, builder. Thank you,”

You stew over it for the rest of the day, taking your frustrations out on the stone that your pickaxe chips away at in the abandoned ruins, sweat beading on your forehead as your mind swims with the stoic expression he wore when you made your delivery. Partly, you’re mad at yourself for caring so much – why do you need his validation at all? He was nothing but a smug prick with a superiority complex.

But still, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, a challenge you can’t quite shake off. Gust may be aloof and arrogant, but you refuse to let him get under your skin like this. You had faced worse bullies and adversaries; you certainly were not going to lose to a pretty boy who hadn’t seen a day of hard work in his life.

And there was nothing better than some friendly competition.

✤✤✤

The idea strikes you the when you’re perusing the commissions stuck up on the board at the commerce guild, more so because Gale is animatedly talking about a community center to Presley. You no doubt will be pitted against Higgins in this one too, but the opportunity to crush two birds with one stone is right there.

“Gale,” You pipe up, spinning around to face the mayor with a grin. “How would you feel about not just a community center, but a mural? One that everyone could contribute to in some ways?”

Gale, mid-sentence, pauses to consider this, the idea mulling around in his head.

“Plus, it would get a certain architect a little more involved in the community… I can only imagine what sort of ideas Gust might bring to the table for this one,” You suggest with a nonchalant shrug, assessing the dirt under your nails.

“That is a wonderful idea Ava,” Gale concludes finally, looking between you and Presley with mounting joy. “Oh – yes, I can see it now! A day of every week that the townspeople may get together to express their talents! It might even help iron out some tensions between the Research Center and the Church…” He strokes his chin, considering this. “Wonderful – yes, Gust will be an asset. Maybe you and my son could take charge on ironing out some of the blueprints and the initial sketch – I wouldn’t want it to be too incohesive after all,”

“I’d be happy to contribute too – I won several art contests back in Barnarock,” You supply sweetly, though the confession twists knots in your stomach.

“Oh wonderful! This is the perfect opportunity to get my son out of his shell then, he’s always so concerned with Ginger these days…” Gale trails off wistfully, before he shakes himself out of it. “Anyhow, thank you Ava for the initiative. I’m pleased to see your commitment to Portia!”

“She what,” Gust hisses in annoyance, squinting at the letter that Albert hands off to him.

‘To whom it may concern,

As you may know – the Mayor has recently commissioned a community center to be built in Portia, so that citizens have a place of respite where they may form clubs, bond over shared hobbies and simply take a breather from the stresses of their day to day lives. This will be useful for those of us with hobbies with no dedicated space to explore it!

That said, I have also recommended we decorate the walls of the center with a mural that our townsfolk can come together and paint, so that the symbol of togetherness feels more concrete (haha). Before that can happen, it is important to iron out a design for the mural. As this is a tremendous task, I have enlisted the assistance of one of your architects to aid me in the creation of this design (as I know he won’t be apart of it otherwise.)

When the time suits you, please set up a meeting at my workshop so we can discuss the details.

Yours sincerely,

Ava.’

“Lookit that mate, an art project right here at home. No need to travel out to Atara for a competition this time eh?” Albert snickers, looking far too amused over this entire situation.

“I don’t have time for this,” Gust snaps, rereading the letter one more time before brusquely shoving it aside on his drawing table.

“Why not? It’s not like we have a big project at the moment. I’m pretty sure our only task is exactly this one, just on the architecture side. If we’re going to be spending so much time with her you may as well learn to I dunno,” He searches for the words contemplatively. “Try and tolerate her? Like her even?”

“I don’t need to like her to work with her,” Gust bluntly affirms, resigning himself to his seat in the corner, expression pinched and another sigh worming its way out of his system. “Besides – this is clearly a ploy by her to irritate me,”

“Oh sure, this is targeted,” Albert rolls his eyes, taking his own seat amidst stacks of paperwork. “She has it out for you specifically. By making you do your favourite thing in the world, art. The horrors,”

It doesn’t cut through his brooding, only serving to further exacerbate his irritation. The creeping feeling that her request is a calculated ploy to ruffle his feathers, to force him into a collaboration he never asked for was all just an opportunity to finally gain the upperhand on him.

“Whatever it is, she’s up to something,” He grouses, finally snatching a pencil out of his holder to start on his days work.

“Or she’s trying to do something nice for the town. Which she does well, and often, if you ever took the time to know her. I don’t get it – a new pretty face shows up and you find the quickest way to make an enemy of her,”

Gust ignores the comment, but he does make one good point. Ava is good at her job – and she’s got a burning passion for it that begrudgingly, he recognises. A doubtful voice suggests that maybe, there’s more to her than meets the eye. That maybe, the idea of working with her, intrigues him.

“And hey – if you’re not gonna have a good time with her yourself, mind getting me her number?”

Gust’s eyes narrow, amusement and annoyance flickering across his features. “You’re shameless, you know that?” He retorts, though an underlying fondness belies the snark of his tone.

Albert simply shrugs, hefting open the first stack of folders. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,”

Chapter Text

It takes a week – not that you’re counting - before you receive the letter in your mailbox. It is curtly written, and you wonder how many revisions it’s undergone before he’s resigned himself to sending it, but it’s here.

‘Dear Ava,

Thursday evening is my next available slot. Be sure to have ample table space ready, and the necessary stationary. I will also need a water bowl ready for QQ. Do not be late. Especially since it is your residence.

Gust

(A&G Construction)’

You snort at the letterhead, amazed at his waste of company resources just to be short with you but it’s something. You spend the rest of the week leading up to Thursday doing the regular – finishing the smaller commissions, smelting and sawing in the mornings, attending to your crops shortly after, and building late into the night. Spare moments in between grant you the luxury of ruin diving, delivering Data Discs to both the Research Center and the Church, and cracking into your worn sketchbook to find inspiration.

Every time you do though, it tugs at an unpleasant memory of your past, so you barely make much headway before throwing in the towel. Small scribbles of handwriting almost unfamiliar to you now eke out a pain you thought you had moved past when you flip to a page you don’t mean to land on – but this is your chance to move past that. To start anew.

When the eve dawns, and his familiar head of strawberry blonde greets you on your walk back from Emily’s. He hasn’t yet noticed you and is slowly accompanying his sister back to the entrance of town where Russo waits expectantly, but something catches your eye. The familiar pink hue of the umbrella glances off the last remainders of sunlight, as he says some parting words to Ginger.

Ginger, who’s the one to spot you.

She waves you over, the warm smile on her delicate features beckoning you closer and you can’t help but comply, though Gust looks non too pleased about it.

“Ava,” She greets, her voice a summer breeze against the icy tone you’re expecting her brother to adopt. Said brother stands off to the side, clearly put off by this interruption, arms folded and expression guarded.

“Oh, one of you knows my name,” You tease, shooting him a look, ignoring the momentary perplexation that crosses her features. “How are you?”

“I’m lovely, thank you for asking. I’ve missed you at the Round Table this week – though I’ve heard you’ve been busy with a new project,” A glimmer appears in her eye, and you wonder how much Gust has divulged her with details. “I’m excited to see what you and Gust come up with. I already know he’s brilliant, but I know you have so much in store yourself,”

“Hardly,” You blush at the compliment, the memory of when you had shared a crocheted work with her springing to mind. “But thank you. I can’t wait for you to see it too,”

“Hopefully when the time comes I can participate,” She says, small and wistful.

“I’ll make sure we worm in something special for you,” You promise, folding your hands over hers.

“Don’t be preposterous,” Gust snorts, coming out of his shadow. “Ginger can’t be exposed to those sorts of fumes,”

“I’m sure we can find a way around it,” You briskly respond, taking your hands back to fold them over your chest. Gust readies himself for another blow, but Ginger waves a dismissive hand between the both of you.

“Thinking of me is enough, even if I don’t get to actively participate. I can’t wait to see what you two come up with,” She says, effectively stopping the ensuing argument before it has a chance to be afoot. “I won’t keep you two any longer, I know you have business to conduct,” A mischievous smirk settles on her face as she turns to thread her arm through Russo’s who’s been standing in silence waiting to accompany Ginger home.

“After you princess,” You gesture with a scowl down the path to your workshop, taking the lead before he has a chance to edge in a snarky comment.

✤✤✤

Your house is simple – furnished but nothing lavish. A small stone table in the garden with a couple stools for when you sit in your garden (never). A simply coffee table with a pot of flowers in the middle. A plush teddy bear that Sam had won for you when you had bet that she wouldn’t in-between your pillows. The only impressive thing you own is your bookshelf, stacked with literature and notebooks that you had lugged off the ship from Barnarock. Gust has taken to this particular furnishing, eyes skimming the titles and leather-bound books.

Instead of a prickly insult like you were anticipating, he surprises you by saying, “I never realised you owned such an extensive collection of books,”

“There’s a lot you don’t realise about me,” You reply simply, unfurling a roll of drafting paper across your desk, heaving an extra seat over for Gust. When you turn to regard him, he has an unreadable expression, green eyes boring into you. It makes you shuffle uncomfortably, though you try not to shy from his gaze you eventually do, clearing your throat and taking a seat, gesturing to the one opposite from you. “Shall we?”

When he relents, the tension is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, unease roiling in your gut when you meet his eyes, the weight of his scrutiny making you squirm in your seat.

However - you’re first to break the silence. “Let’s start by hammering out some themes for the mural – any ideas?”

“Actually,” He starts, reaching for his work bag, pulling out his own sketchbook. “Yes – I managed to draft up some ideas today. I was thinking it might be good to incorporate Portia’s history and culture. Perhaps depicting scenes from the old world transitioning to the new, incorporating the industries that sustain our town,”

His voice is measured and professional, and despite your misgivings about him, you find yourself nodding along to his suggestions. This was the man who graduated from Atara, after all, a brilliance for ideas you knew he had only finally now showcased. But when you offer your own suggestions, Gust is quick to shut them down, his critiques sharp and biting – obviously, he’s not one to mince his words.

“It’s too abstract – no one’s going to understand the meaning behind it,” He gripes, and you simmer in your seat. Criticism isn’t new to you, but something about it is different with Gust. Maybe it’s the fact that the challenge is getting him to treat you like an equal, and you’re making no headway.

“It’s interpretive – something everyone can take a different meaning from,” You argue back, and Gust rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s nonsense is what it is. It lacks accessibility and it’s pretentious on a good day. Take it from me, the townspeople of Portia are not as creative as you think they are,” The casual way that he dismisses these people – his home sparks anger in your veins.

“How can you say that?” You narrow your gaze at him. “If you took the time to know them, really know them, instead of passing snide judgements at surface level, you might be proven wrong,”

He locks eyes with you unwilling to back down, another venomous jab ready to go. “I know these people better than you think – I grew up here, I spent my youth here. Where were you through all these events? I know what they like, what they respond to,”

“And yet, you’re still ready to underestimate them. I didn’t realize an Atara education bred a generation of pandering architects. Someone told me that you thought outside the box once. They must’ve had you pegged wrong,”

His jaw clenches, the closest you’ve seen to his perfectly crafted composure of stoic and uncaring breaking. Well good. Humanity is a welcome change from him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me, and you don’t know these people. This is real life, not some art school project. Maybe someone has never rejected your ideas before – well I’ll be the first to do you the honor. Sometimes, you need to do some pandering when it pays your bills. Sometimes, you need to get out of your own head and respond to those around you, instead of expecting it the other way around,”

You bite back the retort that rises in your throat, his words stinging more than you’d care to admit. There’s truth in what he says, a bitter pill to swallow amidst the tempest of emotions swirling between you.

“Fine,” You relent, albeit begrudgingly. “I will… take some of your criticism on board and mold my ideas to better suit the palette of the townspeople. But,” You begin, noticing the familiar smugness that creeps into his features. “You need to wake up yourself. Maybe if you stopped clinging to your narrow-minded view of the world, you’d see there’s more to life than just playing it safe,”

Silence hangs heavy in the air, the weight of the words lingering between you like an unspoken challenge. Then, unexpectedly, Gust’s expression softens just a fraction, a flicker of something undefinable crossing his features.

“You really believe that don’t you?” he asks, head tilting to the side as his eyes pry past your exterior, like he’s trying to get a read of something deeper. “That there’s more to life than what meets the eye?”

The energy in the room shifts, almost close enough to being understanding. Not quite – but it’s there, beckoning you in.

“Yes,” You finally respond, pulling your gaze away to focus on the illustrations before you. “I do,”

Through the dissipating tension, you’re surprised that Gust breaks the silence. “Look, I didn’t mean to dismiss your ideas so… harshly,” He sighs. “I’m just used to working alone on things. Admittedly, I expected you to be far less competent at this,”

“Oh so I’m competent?” You smirk.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You have just exceeded the lowest standard possible,” He retorts, though it doesn’t carry the same seriousness as some of his other barbs. “I have a reputation to uphold, is all. I have faced… plenty of rejection for some of my more outlandish ideas, throughout most of my professional career,” His voice softens, surprisingly. “I wouldn’t want your creative spirit to be tempered by… something as simple as a town mural not working in your favor,”

“That and you love the chance to be critical of me,” You tease, finding your sketching pencil again. “But… I understand. That’s… almost sweet of you. I think we both want what’s best for Portia here, so let’s just try and focus on creating something meaningful,”

He doesn’t smile – you’re convinced now that he’s not capable of it – but if he could, you think he would be. For the next few hours, you and Gust immerse yourselves in brainstorming, bouncing ideas off each other and sketching out rough concepts. As the evening wears on, the tension that once filled the room gradually dissipates. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

“Until next time builder,” Gust waves off when the clock strikes 10, gathering his things as he heads for the door.

“Until next time you grouch,” You shoot back, ignoring the scowl he spares you before the door clicks on his way out.

✤✤✤

“So…” Albert pries the next morning, peeking over Gust’s shoulder for a second before the taller man snaps shut his sketchbook.

“So what?” Gust coolly replies, standing to pour himself a coffee, weariness under his eyes.

“So how did it go?”

Gust pauses, considering Albert’s question, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Fine – she’s admittedly not entirely hopeless,” Is the only response he offers as he repositions himself at the drafting table.

“Wow, that’s almost high praise coming from you,” Albert snorts, languidly leaning against the edge of his table with his arms crossed. “Did you find out if she was single?”

“How funny,” Gust sarcastically drones. “It didn’t manage to come up,”

“Shame. Next time you see her remember to get her number for me, since you’re not interested,” Albert whistles, heading back to his desk.

“You know you are welcome to ask her yourself, like the grown up that you are,” Gust points out, tone clipped.

“Ooooh, worried about what you might do if you get her number first? It’s ok, she’s a stunner that one – wouldn’t blame you if you shoot your shot,”

A moment’s hesitation is all Albert needs to grin, watching the way Gust’s shoulders stiffen. “I’ll pass. Why are you so interested anyways?”

“Not everyday someone can take you on,” Albert says simply. “Much less a woman of her caliber,”

Gust doesn't respond immediately, his mind swirling with Albert's words. There's a flicker of something unfamiliar tugging at him, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"I'm not 'taking her on,' Albert," Gust finally retorts, his tone sharper than he intended. "We're just colleagues working on a project together. Barely working, might I add,"

Albert raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever you say, boss. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

With that, Albert retreats to his own workspace, leaving Gust to grapple with the unexpected weight of his words. Despite his insistence otherwise, there's a lingering thought in Gust's mind—a question he's not quite ready to confront.

Chapter Text

The weeks pass in a push and pull of momentum, everyday a new revelation about this dynamic you two foster. At times, it can feel like a dance, a delicate balance of opposing forces where disagreements and compromises shape the contours of your collaboration.

One day, you and Gust are fighting over the placement of a certain design, how large it should be, how colorful, and the next, you’re both agreeing to something. Once, over dinner at the Round Table – if you can call a bowl of garlic bread that’s getting cold – Gust looks over your shoulder and nods. Approvingly.

As you spend more time together, you begin to appreciate things you never noticed. Gust has an exceedingly keen eye for detail, overlaying colors when you drop by the office for a delivery so he can show you how they complement each other, even outside of your designated work hours.

Other times, you find him on your morning runs, pushing sweat slicked hair out of your eyes as you halt by him, huffing for breath as you share your latest idea.

Interspersed through all of this, is that at the end of the week, you have taken to crafting a new umbrella, that you subtly pass him the following meeting. He doesn’t say anything, no name, no real gratitude but you always spot Ginger sporting the fresh one, and she always waves at you with a bright smile on her face and a knowing look.

It comes to a halt though one day, when out of nowhere, Gust looks up abruptly and says, “I’ve never gotten your number,”

You pause, working out the math for how large this mural extends across the brick that you’ve only finally worked out the quantity of. “Uhhhh…. No, you haven’t,”

“Albert wanted to know if he could…” His hand flounders aimlessly in the air. “He requested that I ask you for it,”

“Oh, did he?” You raise an eyebrow curiously.

He catches your eye, and then hastily looks back down, poring over some of the art books from your shelf, searching for references. “It’s Albert. If it has a pulse he’s interested,”

“Good to know I meet someone’s standards then,” You roll your eyes. “So… you’re just doing Albert a favor then?”

“…I think, it would also be more beneficial than relying on mail, if I needed to get in touch with you. Especially given how much time we need to give this project,” He states, keeping his eyes trained now on whatever paragraph he’s rereading.

You curiously watch his expression for a second, before resuming your work. “Alright then. I’m a busy girl, don’t expect to reach me often. This is a responsibility of the highest order,”

“Wow,” He says flatly. “I’ll make sure to treat this privilege with upmost responsibility,” Sarcasm drips from his tone, but when he takes the parchment you scribble the digits out on, he gingerly folds it to put it away in his wallet, contemplation brewing behind his eyes.

“And,” You add. “You can’t call me builder when you call,”

“Hefty price to pay,” You think he chuckles, but your ears could be deceiving you. “But I can work with it,”

✤✤✤

Naturally, when the phone rings, you expect Gust. Something tugs curiously within your heart at the ringing of the phone that goes otherwise unused on your wall akin to excitement, but it falls flat when you go to answer and Albert’s voice drifts through the line.

It momentarily surprises you, but you recover fast enough when his cheerful and buoyant voice breaks your thoughts up. “Hey there! I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,”

Your eyes flicker over to where you had your sketchbook opened, a scene etched out on a page that you had finally decided to use. “No, not at all. What can I do for you Albert?” You shake your head, chewing at your bottom lip. Your shoddy attempts at art can wait another day or so.

“Well, I wanted to touch base about the work you and Gust were doing. He’d mentioned you’d made some headway, which is great, because I need to look into drafting up some construction documents, and walking you through some of the design plans that we were thinking of giving the mayor,”

You wince – you need to get to work on making some steel beams, and roofing tiles too. Yeah, that passion project can now wait a week.

­

“That sounds good, when were you thinking?” You ask, keeping your voice as cool and professional as you can manage.

“I was thinking maybe lunch, tomorrow? My treat,” Albert’s voice is smooth, and you can see where he garners the reputation of being a womanizer. Emily had warned you with a roll of her eyes when you first got here that he was… well… keen. On anyone, of the female persuasion. And Sonia had also promptly let you know that there wasn’t a girl he hadn’t asked on a date yet.

But he’s charming; charismatic, and overall a good person from what you can tell. Or what you think. He must’ve been something of a hit with some women for him to get such a big head about it.

“That sounds… like a great idea,” You check your calendar – Gust won’t mind, you don’t think if you reschedule with him. An excuse to be away from you for a day longer. “I’ll get back to you on a time,”

“Perfect – looking forward to it,” Albert says, tone still bright. “Talk to you soon!”

“Talk to you soon,” You echo back, an empty smile ghosting your lips with no one around to see it. You swallow the question about whether Gust will be there, unsure what even prompted the thought.

✤✤✤

When you do see him, it’s not so much by chance as it is a calculated move on your part. You know he likes to paint by the river on occasion, and you don’t want to risk calling the office lest Albert answers, so when you spot him at the riverbank, breeze rustling his braided hair you come up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

“Has anyone told you it’s rude to watch someone paint?” He pipes up suddenly, as you’re getting lost in the strokes of his brush. He doesn’t sound annoyed, more bemused, as he casts you a look over his shoulder.

“Believe it or not yes,” You reply, squatting down to scratch QQ behind his ears, the pig giving a pleased squeal in response. “And I’ve more often than not been the one to say it,”

He lets you stay with him in companionable silence, QQ nestling in your lap as you let the spring breeze kiss against your skin, watching the way Gust melds color and form together.

“I never knew you had such a passion,” He starts again, swirling paints together on his palette. “For art that is. I never took you to be the sort,”

“My mother was a painter,” You find yourself saying before you can stop. “She taught me when I was little. She was more correctly an artist – she whittled down little animals in wood and soap bars for me like presents, and showed me how to press flowers between pages of my notebook when they had wilted,”

It’s a bittersweet memory, your hand fiddling with the last memoir you have of her – the bracelet woven around your wrist. “I loved it – it was such a nice change from… everything else. Like life could suck but be beautiful in your head, y’know? You could change how the world looked on paper with just your imagination,”

When you look up at him, Gust isn’t painting anymore, and he’s looking down at you with what can only be described as understanding.

“I had no idea,” He softly offers. “She sounds… like an incredible woman,”

“She was,” Is all you offer back, your lips in a thin smile.

“Well… thank you. For sharing that with me,” He nods, going to dab his brush back on the canvas before being interrupted by a tiny droplet marring the surface. Confused, the both of you look up, grey skies floating in, which prompt you both into stowing away the paints and tucking the canvas into a portfolio before it can get rained on.

That doesn’t stop the both of you from being caught in the ensuing downpour moments later, as what was a light drizzle minutes ago turns into a shower, soaking into your skin and bones as Gust yanks off his blazer, huddling you unexpectedly closer to him under it.

“If we make it back to my workshop, I can grab you an umbrella to get home with,” You call, through the increasing magnitude of the rain pelting down on the both of you. Gust nods, and you both make haste, until you’re trying to crank open your doorway, stumbling into the darkness together.

You shake out some of the wet, peeling off your jacket and fumbling for a light switch. Gust’s in an equal state of damp, hair dripping with water and shirt soaked through, your throat tightening a little at the sight of him.

What are you doing? Get ahold of yourself your mind begs you, when you remember the task at hand, ignoring the way Gust traces you with his eyes in a similar fashion. You rustle through one of the chests, producing the umbrella you had made a couple days ago, handing it over to him. Another perfectly constructed pink umbrella – this time with some added frills at the bottom, a touch you thought Ginger might appreciate.

“Here,” you say, holding it out to him on your palms like a scepter. “My finest one yet,”

“I…” He takes it from you, turning it over in his own hands. “I hadn’t asked for another one yet,”

“Didn’t need to. I know how long it takes for one to wear out, or for you to need another. I’ve worked it into my schedule,”

He looks up, a funny look on his face. The moment stretches on, both of you still dripping with water and illuminated in the dimly lit living room, before Gust clears his throat.

“I should probably get going – it’s getting late and I need to check on Ginger,” You nod, wringing out the loose ends of your hair which are starting to warp and curl with the dampness in it. “I’ll… see you tomorrow,”

Right. Tomorrow.

“About that,” You cringe. “I might have to move the date of that. Another appointment has come up, so we’ll have to call raincheck. No pun intended,”

He raises a skeptical brow at you, but the intended effect is lost with the way his hair drips water on the shirt that clings to his skin, the pale tone of his skin ghostly under where the white of his shirt sticks to it. You grab the tea towel off your dining table without a second thought, bringing it up to wipe at the droplets of water still running down his face, off the tip of his sharp nose and down his angled jaw.

Surprisingly he lets you. It doesn’t last long, and all it takes is his breath catching just slightly for you to come to and withdraw your hand but it’s a moment you would’ve never expected to transpire between you two.

“That’s… yes. That’s fine. I’ll ring you to organize a better date. I’ll be off,” He doesn’t immediately turn, but when he does you sense his reluctance to. Or you could be insane, and it could just be in your head.

“Goodnight, builder,” He bids you farewell, door clicking behind him. The moment, evaporates, just like the water off your skin. Builder. You scoff at no one, turning to head straight for the shower. Yeah – you are insane, insane for thinking that there was anything more than at best, an acquaintanceship between you and the man.

Chapter Text

Gust, when he gets home, looks like a wet cat – his usually brushed and smooth hair is frizzy from the rain, his clothes ruffled, and he’s propped up under a frilly pink umbrella. QQ is pretty happy to roll around and squeal in delight on the walk home but Gust’s mind is occupied.

He suppresses the memory of your lashes, dark and heavy with rainwater fluttering as your gaze traced his features, or how you softly dabbed at his face with a towel. He especially tries to quieten the thought of your white collared shirt, usually obscured by the leather adventuring jacket you sported over top, plastered to your skin, how it hugged your figure…

“Brother?” Ginger interrupts his thoughts from the kitchen, her soft footsteps padding out on the carpet, where she gasps at the sight of her usually composed sibling looking quite like something the cat had dragged in. His cheeks burn, unsavory images being shoved deep into the recesses of his mind as he regards his sister.

“Hi,” He says simply, as if he hasn’t tracked water across the hallway, something that Russo will anguish over shortly. “I got caught in the rain,”

“Clearly,” Ginger remarks, going to assist him with his precariously balanced portfolio, paints, blazer and umbrella. “Oh – this is new, did you stop by Ava’s too?”

“Well- sort of. She was with me just as the rain started coming in and offered to head back to her workshop to retrieve this umbrella she’d made for you. Two birds, one stone,” He groaned at the sight of himself in the mirror, reaching back to untie the braid that usually pulled the back of his hair together elegantly. A shower was in order. Scratch that, he needed the luxury of a bath.

“I see. I didn’t realize you had a business meeting with her today,” Ginger said, humming thoughtfully to herself as she turned the umbrella over in her hand, delicate fingers tracing the trim.

“I hadn’t. She joined me while I was painting by the river today,” He combs out the waves formed in his hair, unlacing his shoes and immediately going to check on the condition of his painting when he was out of them.

“And you let her?” Ginger asks, her surprise muted.

“Well, she was already sitting on the grass beside me – what was I going to do, force her to leave?” He retorts, carefully sliding out the canvas, which is only mildly speckled in raindrops. Ginger, regards him carefully, considering her next words.

“I’m glad you’re getting along. It’s nice that you’ve made another friend Gust,” Is what she decides on, perching herself on the arm of the couch, watching him fret over his belongings.

“She’s hardly a friend,” Gust snorts, without any of the earnest intent behind those words. She was irritating and arrogant on a good day and had a way of getting under his skin like no one else. Hearing her voice set something off in him, bracing him for a challenge and the sight of her got his heart racing in anticipation.

But he supposed, she had also been growing on him. He looked forward, on occasion, to hearing her ideas, so different from what he would come up with but not uninspired. She had a fire that burned in her eyes that warmed his icy spirit, and flamed the embers of his own passions – his polar opposite in so many ways but the first person in Portia to really drive him to be better. No, be the best. He had thought of her as a rival, but he wasn’t entirely opposed to her company anymore.

Things about her caught him off guard, like the way hair caught the light, what he used to think of as disheveled and unkempt now had a loose and expressive charm to it. Or the dimple that formed when she laughed, genuinely laughed, even if it wasn’t because of him – something that Django might’ve said in passing when they were waiting for lunch. Or the way her lips parted, pink and full when she was really getting into an idea, only to nibble at her lower lip, her tongue poking out to sweep at it…

 In fact, he was actually getting a little warm under the collar just thinking about it.

“Gust?” Ginger’s voice once again slices through his daydreams, putting an end to the route they were on. His thoughts have definitely been going places tonight. “Maybe you should have a shower – the chill seems to be getting to you,”

He grunted in acquiescence, though what he needed now was dunk in icy bathtub.

✤✤✤

Everyone and their forefathers seemed suddenly interested in his budding partnership with the Builder – at least everyone that he talked to, which consisted of two people – since he’d barely spent ten minutes at the office before Albert ruined the rhythm of his workflow.

“Do you have the drafts for the community center drawn up?” He asked, obscured by the stacks of paperwork piled high on his desk.

Gust swiftly extracted the folder for him, handing it back over his shoulder without a second glance. “Meeting with my father?”

“Better yet – meeting with Ava. Over lunch,” Whilst Albert wasn’t prying into his personal life, the mention of her name halted the sketching of his pencil, a knot forming in his chest. “Honestly, can’t believe she agreed to it. Though, I guess I did put it to her as more of a business meeting…”

“That can’t be right,” It was like a lightbulb clicking on in his head, his one-track mind thinking of ways to intervene, though for whatever reason he had yet to understand. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with her around lunchtime,”

“Well, I guess she chose the more handsome of us to conduct business with today,” Without a glance back, Gust can hear the smirk in his voice, which prompts him to pick up the receiver on his office phone and dial in your number.

The dial tone rings for an annoyingly long stretch of time before you answer, sounding breathless, like you had dashed for the phone, probably from your workstations outside.

“Hello?”

He swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat and reminds himself that this is professional. He’s just making sure about what seems to be a scheduling error. “Hi…” He bites back the title he’s gotten used to calling her, remembering her condition for calls. “Ava. This is Gust. I was just checking, were we still good for that meeting this afternoon?”

Another pulse of silence. He feels skittish for no apparent reason, drumming his fingers on his desk.

“Shit. I’m sorry—I forgot, Albert called yesterday,” Of course he did, beating Gust to the punch. He drops his face to his palm, withholding the groan of displeasure that threatens to bubble up. “It’s a little too late for me to reschedule with him, and it concerns principally the same matter…” You trail off, and he can see you twirling the cable around your finger, chewing thoughtfully at your lower lip.

“But maybe we could all get lunch together? It’ll give me a chance to discuss some of the logistics of your plans,”

“You mean you’ll argue them tooth and nail,” The suggestion, however, makes him drag his face back up, chin propped up in his hand instead and the slightest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. It feels a little more freeing, talking to her like this, without the feeling of being actively perceived by her.

“If you think that’s what I’ll do maybe you’ll need to go over those blueprints yourself, architect,” She teases, and for whatever reason, it causes his cheeks to warm. “Anyways, let Albert know he has to cover you on the company expenses today too. See you later,”

He lets the line click shut, before hanging up on her and turning back to find Albert watching him with a bemused expression.

“What?”

“You were quick to check in. Jealous? Don’t want me getting any alone time with her?” He doesn’t’ seem displeased though, and Gust can’t help but wonder if this was all a part of his plan.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have work that needs to be done, and it’s more efficient that we do it altogether,” Gust huffs, being quick to round his shoulders and hunch back over his desk away from Albert’s broad smirk.

“Oh, you’re third wheeling us! Even better, maybe you can wingman me,” He laughs jauntily, before the telltale sound of a pen scratching against paper has Gust sighing the tension out of his shoulders. “Y’know for a guy who claims that she’s the bane of your existence, you get awfully precious about your time together with her,”

✤✤✤

Lunch is… as good as every other day with Gust. The first half of it is spent poring over paperwork, looking at the designs Albert and Gust have and the logistics of it that Albert goes over with you. You hash it back and forth with budgeting, until the roadbump Gust fixates on is your choice of material.

“Why would we not use composite wooden boards? It’s sturdy, and it’s a community center. It’s supposed to be a hub of activity, and one that stands the test of time,” He squints at you like he’s explaining this to a child.

“Because there is plenty – and trust me when I say plenty – of abandoned furniture in the ruins, and furniture that gets donated and thrown away that yields hardwood in return. It is a sustainable that is just as sturdy!” You grouse back.

“Sounds like you just want to get out of the hard work,” Gust shrugs, leaning forward in his seat as if goading you on. You bite because he just makes it so darn easy.

“I think that a sustainable practice of construction that borrows from what once was is both symbolic and environmentally friendly!” You throw your hands up, dropping your voice when you three garner a few looks from around the restaurant. Yeah, three, since you both forgot Albert was here, sipping his tea as he watches you two bicker.

“It would be more cost efficient,” He coughs finally, shooting a look between you both, which earns him the scornful look that Gust whips around on him.

You smirk, feeling much like you won that round as Gust settles back, arms crossed with the temper of a petulant child.

“Besides, where’s your innovative spirit Gust?” You purr, fixing him with a catlike stare. “At the end of the day you’ll find any way to be a stick in the mud, don’t you? Even when I might be right about something,”

“It’s a community center, not my next magnum opus,” He snaps. “You just like to complicate things because you enjoy worming your way under my skin. Be honest, do you think my point has no bearing? Or are you being facetious intentionally?”

What gets you clenching your fist under the table, also has your eyes flashing mischievously at him. “Aw, so quick to think the worst of me,” You mockingly hold a hand to your chest. “However, I think your point holds as much bearing as a paper boat out at sea,”

He regards you incredulously, before he settles with nothing but an eye roll. “You really have a knack for turning simple discussions into a battlefield don’t you. I’d think you cared less about the spirit of the project and more about besting me,”

“Who says I can’t do both,” You spear some fruit on your fork, popping it into your mouth as you say so. “Hard to stay focused when you make it oh so easy to entertain myself, watching you get all worked up over any disagreement I have with you. Who knew you cared so much about what I had to say,”

He stares at you, slack jawed slightly as he tries to come up with a retort, instead developing a flush over his freckled cheeks. “I almost admire your tenacity for tedium,” He finally comes up with, his eyes smoldering as he leans in, an unexpected shiver creeping up your spine as he locks eye contact with you. “But it is exhausting trying to keep up with your constant need to challenge me. I never knew you cared so much about my attention that you need to always have it,”

Now is your turn to gape like an idiot. Something about the way he phrases it stutters your pulse and warms your neck, that you think it shoots to the very tips of your hair.

Albert, thankfully, exists, and clears his throat to dissipate the suffocating tension that has appeared out of nowhere. “Well! This has been enlightening. Lots to talk about and consider. I like your spirit Ava, we haven’t had someone so… passionate about our towns affairs and also so involved in them in…” He looks to Gust, who’s still intently watching your expression. “Who knows. But we certainly won’t find it in Higgins. So, back to uh, the task at hand?”

The topic quickly turns back to mundane topics, leaving you wondering if you had simply imagined the brief crackle of charged tension between you two. It was like your momentary crush on Gust when you had first met him had reared its ugly head to make you giddy that he so much as acknowledged you, when up until now he has done nothing but disrespect you.

You steal glances at him from across the table, where disinterest has seeped back into his expression, his gaze bored and waiting for this to conclude. Just like you had thought, it was all in your head. So, you push aside the thoughts swirling in your mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. There will be plenty of time to unravel the odd development known as your feelings, later.

Chapter Text

The following week was a whirlwind of preparation – between gathering the supplies necessary to start construction, you also had to add materials for paints to the list. Sure, you could order them in, but there was something a touch more special about gathering the necessary materials to craft the paint that the town would be using from within their own land. That was your running theme here anyway, right?

The downside of this was it meant that you had to delve deeper into the mines than you would like. Precious gems and animal oils were harder to obtain than you had realized, your ambitious effort taking you further into the ruins than you had anticipated. Checking your watch for the time, had left an opening for the Redrat you hadn’t noticed, who arced a projectile beautifully through the air that caused the ground below you to blow bits of shrapnel out, crumbling under your feet.

“Oh, shit,”

You clung on for dear life, the bubbling acid pool beneath you painting your skin a sickly green hue. As you clung desperately to the edge of the crumbling ledge, one final surge of adrenaline coursed through you, hefting you back up on the ledge.

Weakened from that encounter, and the shrapnel that had torn into your pants legs and skin, you meandered through the combat with the Redrat, getting by with just the skin on your teeth before you ambled to the evacuation lift. Sunlight on the surface made you wince, having been in the darkness for so long, before you took a step forward and careened to the ground.

✤✤✤

Gust had been outside your workshop for thirty minutes, with no sign of you. The lights were off, and from what he could tell, you hadn’t been by since the morning, ingots stacked by your smelter and planks ready to collect. Why you couldn’t have this meeting at the Round Table, or Light forbid, his office, he was unsure.

Just as he was about to take matters into his own hands, testing the give of her doorway, the faint noise of conversation drew his attention. Rounding the corner, was a hobbling Ava, bandages wrapped around her limbs and her arm strung up in a cast. “I know, I know,” Came your exasperated voice, as Xu lectured you on the hazards of  the ruins and knowing your own limits.

“Fine – I won’t press. I know you know this was stupid,” Xu sighs softly, handing you a paper bag of medication. “But please, take care. I wouldn’t want to have to let Arlo know about this,”

“You wouldn’t,” You gasp into your hand in mock horror.

He smiles, despite himself. “No. Provided there is no next time. Deal?”

“Deal,” You agree, holding out your hand for a shake, which he graciously takes.

“Good – now remember, twice a day, before food. And no ruin diving until you are well again,”

You bid him farewell, turning to see Gust, standing by your doorway with furrowed brows. Realization dawns on you as you check the time – half an hour wouldn’t be much, but Gust was a stickler for these things, if there was anything you knew about him.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. What happened to you?” He remarked, though he took a cautious step towards you as you limped over, looking torn between helping you or letting you manage on your own.

“Just an oversight on my part – sorry I’m late for it. Should we go about our business?” You ask, as if pain isn’t shooting up your leg. You still have those painkillers you need to take, but your pride wins out, despite the unimpressive hobble you do to your door.

Just as you’re fiddling with the key in your door, Gust’s arm loops strongly around your shoulders to steady you, before you come crashing face first down, the pain winning out.

“Let’s focus on the task of walking first,” He grumbles, though his tone is unusually gentle. Despite your ego, your differences, and this imaginary competition you have going with him, you are thankful for something to lean against, and are grateful that he helps you cross the threshold to your bed instead of your desk.

He wanders around, flicks on your lamp and takes your belongings from you, prompting you to heave your body properly onto the mattress. It takes some effort, but Gust is quick to help you with it, even if your heart flutters at the way his fingers brush under your knee, the warmth of his slender fingers seeping into your skin.

Pain throbs in your limbs, which translates to an anguished sigh, as you quickly rummage through the paper bag. Gust, sharp as ever, is already at your tap, getting you a glass of water. When he hands it to you, you’re quick to throw back the medication and the water, parched and exhausted. You wipe away the dribble of water that escapes your lips, set your glass down and settle back against a pillow.

“Weird,” You weakly manage. “For a moment there, it was almost like you cared about me,”

Gust’s eyes widen, which makes you reconsider whether it was too harsh a statement. “I’m not heartless,” He states quietly. “And, despite what you think I…” He trails off, finding the right words. His features, besides the pinched brow, in this light are almost soft. Your pain and soon to be medicated brain, wants to reach out and touch the golden lock of hair that has come loose, tuck it behind his ear.

“What were you even doing that was so important that you nearly got yourself killed?” He redirects, though he shifts over you, readjusting your pillows and goading you under your covers. He does care, even if he won’t say it.

“Making paint. I mean, that was the plan at least,” You sheepishly admit, casting a betrayed look at your backpack.

He follows your line of sight, an exasperated sigh worming out of him. “I can’t tell if you’re the stupidest person I’ve ever met,” He drags a hand down his face “But Albert probably has you beat. Barely – it’s not something to be proud of,”

“…Or?” You dare to ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Or what?”

“The stupidest person you’ve ever met or…?” You both blink owlishly at one another in the dim lighting, before Gust clears his throat, debating what to tell you.

“Or possibly, the most ambitiously passionate and applied,” He finally quietly offers you. “Vera would’ve liked your spirit,”

“Vera. Your old master right?” The name is familiar from the short bits and bobs he’s offered you regarding his personal life, which is far and few between.

“Yes,” He busies himself with observing his fingernails, and then the weaving of your duvet. “She was enigmatic. She was tough, and for a long time I resented her for it, since it felt like I was full of shortcomings; so much so that I stood no chance of catching up. But she was fair in ways I had yet to understand,”

It’s not often he opens up to you, so you’re content to let him spin this yarn. “She saw potential in me that I had not yet recognized in myself. She pushed me harder than anyone else hard, but believed in me,” A forlorn look crosses his face. “Even when no one else did,”

“She taught me everything I knew, about craftsmanship, about dedication.  I needed to push the boundaries, at every step,”

You silently nod, though you don’t know when the last time you met someone like that was. Gust, perhaps. Challenging, dedicated, those were words he wore well. “She sounds amazing,”

“She was – there was a reason she was the best,” He agrees. “I owe… a lot to her. I would’ve never made the leap to come back here and open A&G without her. …And I never would’ve taken on stupidly ambitious community center murals with a stupid girl who doesn’t value her life either. Though, I think she’d be disappointed with where I’ve gone with her teachings,” His eyes flicker to yours, emerald green boring into your own.

“Believe it or not, your constant arguing and questioning might actually have been the first time in a long time that I’ve felt inspired,” he says the words so softly, that you would have to strain to hear it if the workshop wasn’t totally quiet. 

You have had your fair share of suitors, in your hey day. Barnarock wasn’t without boys with flowers, or men waxing poetic about your hair, your eyes, your body even – but none, have made you feel the way you felt upon hearing those words. It’s just the respect that you have wanted from him for so long making way – that’s all it is, a relief.

“I feel the same way,” You mumble, averting your eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I picked up a pencil or felt compelled to do so of my own accord. But I haven’t stopped since—” You break off with a wince, another flash of pain shooting up your leg.

Gust’s reflexes are impressive, and seamless enough that you don’t even really notice that he’s shuffled you into his arm, running a hand soothingly down yours. When the pain subsides, your tucked into his shoulder, the warmth of his body against yours a small comfort. Daringly, you probe him with a questioning look in your eye, and find your breath a little caught looking up at him from this angle.

“I have a sick sister. I know the ropes of this,” He responds simply, reading your inquisitive gaze. There’s a flicker of a spark, where you get lost in his eyes, such a deep, rich green, and take note of the way his cheeks and the bridge of his nose is speckled with freckles. He looks so much softer than the coarse, biting personality you’ve become acquainted with. His hair smells fresh and grassy, with a hint of orchids. It’s comforting.

“Does it still hurt?” He manages, and if you pay attention, you can catch the way his voice is a little more strained. If you weren’t so woozy you might’ve made a joke at his expense. Instead you lean against his shoulders him, letting your eyes flutter shut. You ignore the surprised squeak that he suppresses and shrug.

“Yeah,” You mumble, brows furrowing. “It’ll go away soon though. The painkillers will kick in and then I’ll be right out of your hair,”

He chuckles softly, the gentleness catching it off guard. “You’re not in my hair. For once. I admit I didn’t think you were… so committed,”

“To the mural?” You inquire, cracking open an eye to peek at him.

“To the mural. I thought it was a ploy to rile me up, prove you were better than me. Though that’s still entirely possible, I just don’t think you’re stupid enough to put yourself in grave danger for it,”

You consider those words, and you wonder, if he’s had the same perception of you that you’ve had of him. Granted you had tried being civil but, this might be a better way to show him who you are – when you come to, free of pain and fully awake, you might feel differently, but for the moment, you squirm over him and reach for your sketchbook, thrown haphazardly over your nightstand.

Gust presses himself back into your bedframe, keeping as safe a distance from you while you do, until you turn back to hand him the book by flattening it to his chest. “Look. Crack it open,”

He regards you with caution, withdrawing the arm that he’s got slung around you to leaf through your pages. You swallow the uncomfortable lump that forms when he lingers on earlier pages, from your time in Barnarock, an almost thoughtful look in his eye, but he thumbs his way over to where you’ve got sketches, ideas and a double page spread of ideas for the mural.

“You took my idea on board,” He says, scanning the lines you’ve made, which have rough sketches of motifs from Portia’s past – whirling images of clouds parting with rays of sun bearing down on the budding sprouts that bloom into expansive corn fields. The flying pigs weave between the clouds and in the middle sits an emblematic ‘P’ that joins the left and the right. It’s the right side that’s more undecided, a Dee Dee parting from the stop you’ve made out of the tail end of the letter, trailing off a more industrial route before it fades off. There’s a note you know you have scrawled out, ‘Ask Gust for input’ before you let it rest for that night.

“I did,” You agree, shuffling yourself up to peer over, cringing at the confrontation with your own work so you look away. “And I thought with your cutting-edge designs… you might have an idea of how to make things look more modern, on the side I couldn’t finish,”

He quietly settles on the page, his eyes shining with something you recognize – respect. “This is… impressive. You have a way of seeing things that I never realized you were capable of,”

It’s what you’ve wanted to hear from him for ages, but in your head this was a more victorious moment where you were smugly rubbing it in and he was hanging his head in shame. Instead, you’re looking up at him wide-eyed, soft lamp light making his hair look like an ethereal halo as he glimpses over at you with more earnest than you’ve ever seen him regard you with. Moments pass where you struggle to find the words to respond with, and he’s sweeping his gaze slowly over your features like he’s seeing you for the first time. Briefly his eyes flutter to your lips, and instinct compels you to swipe at your lower lip with your tongue.

A pin drops, and your heart tightens. This isn’t the prideful victory you wanted. This is yearning.

Your cheeks blaze with heat, and you will yourself to tear your gaze away as your head swims with a million intrusive thoughts. In doing so you miss the way that Gust mimics the movement, red blooming under his pale skin and reaching under his collar.

“Um— anyway, I’ll leave you to recover. This sets us back slightly so we’re going to need to makeup for it the next time we meet with an extended session. I’ll bring my notes and we’ll see what we can do to polish off the roughness of the design. It’s good but not complete - don’t let it go to your head,” He clears his throat, readjusts his tie and untangles himself from you to head for the door.

You form half a reply in your nod and watch nothing more than his heels click out of your living space, the only thing you can concentrate on being: what on earth just happened?