Chapter Text
The rain fell in sheets outside the carriage, blurring the flickering gaslights of the narrow streets.
The city was unfamiliar, nameless in Efron’s mind, like so many others they’d passed through. A place to perform, to collect their pay, to leave before dawn if they were lucky.
Lucky to be together. And alive, at that.
Inside the carriage, Servais sat across from him, undoing the top button of his vest with one hand, the other brushing soot from his sleeve. His gloves were soaked, hanging from the cabin hook like dead birds. He felt too stiff with his corset on.
“Did you notice the inspector in the front row?” Servais asked casually. His breaths were a bit tight.
Efron leaned back, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “Too stiff to clap. Looked at us like he was memorizing the act instead of enjoying it…” he muttered, not looking at his companion.
“Because he was.” Servais looked up, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, but not reaching his eyes. “Word is spreading again…” he added quickly.
“About us?” Efron asked, though he already knew. They always were talking about the two.
“About you,” Servais corrected. “They don’t like a man who touches the dead so well. They say it invites the wrong spirits…” he whispered. A bit annoyed in his fast paced tone.
Efron’s expression hardened. “Let them talk. I’d rather raise a corpse than shake a nobleman’s hand”. A firm tone as he spoke.
Servais chuckled, low and quiet. “So dramatic.. my my.”
“You didn’t deny the rest,” Efron said, voice softer now, searching. Rolling his eyes at the hypocrisy of the magician before him.
There was a long pause. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of wheels over cobblestone. The horses’ hooves clapping against the ground.
Then, with precise, practiced grace, Servais leaned forward. He reached out slowly, letting the back of his fingers skim along Efron’s jaw. A gesture almost too intimate for this dim, moving carriage. His eyes searching.
“I don’t need to deny anything,” he murmured. “You’re the only truth I haven’t staged…” he whispered.
Efron’s breath caught.
“Then why do I still feel like we’re hiding in the wings of your show?” he whispered in return. His breaths came out a bit hasty.
Servais didn’t answer at first. Just sat back slowly, retreating to his usual mask. “Because we are. And if they catch wind of it; us- we’ll be torn from each other like a rigged curtain drop.” He muttered.
Efron’s fingers twitched, as if to reach for him, but stopped. “So what? We keep running?”
“No,” Servais said. “We keep performing.”