Semantics. Splitting hairs. Zane looks at Darling pointedly, waving a hand errantly.
"I mean to see the world! Get some inspiration, restart your brainwaves. Follow the ebb and flow of chaos around you to draw from a fresh perspective."
He's reaching for that coffee again, still eyeing Darling.
"If you won't go home than you should at least do something relaxing."
"I keep active," he retorts. Though he knows the argument is weak as soon as he makes it. "If I need to clear my head, I go for a jog around the House. People think I'm on my way somewhere important, they leave me alone. It's perfect."
Darling sighs and steeples his fingers, resting them against his lips while he tries to study Tom's face. Read his expression. "I don't think you want me to get out. I think you want to get out, and you know you can't do that without me."
It's too late. Zane's smelled the blood in the water, and he's put a hang on the edge of the desk he's already sitting on, leaning back in a languid fashion, brows raising in approval at the active comment. He sure does.
"Is it so bad to want both?" he asks, finally taking a sip. When he lowers the mug, he speaks again.
"I don't have time to go see a movie." Which is the honest truth, sadly. But before now, that fact hadn't bothered him. Now that Tom is prodding at him about it, however... it has been quite some time since he's taken any time for himself.
The scientist sighs and tries to lean back a little to counteract Tom's invasion of his space. "I'm happy to walk with you down to the cafeteria, I should probably eat something today. And you can return that coat."
Darling leans back. Thomas leans forward every way but physical--he's enjoying the view, the way the other is confident in his meaning but still looks like a deer in headlights. He's temporarily struck by just how broad the scientists' shoulders are.
Active indeed.
"We could eat popcorn. Better yet, dinner before the show. Italian?"
He wants, very badly, to do something with his hands. He'd rest them on his desk, normally, when he's not gesturing, but Tom's thighs are currently preventing him from doing so. At least they're in his office and not the lab, so he can snag his pack of cigarettes from the top drawer of his desk and light one. Though he does have to reach past Tom to do so, which flusters him for a moment, but he tries to hide that with a long exhale before speaking again.
"Tom, this is me being serious. With my serious face. I do not have the time -- nor, in fact, the budget -- to take you out to dinner and a movie. I know you've been asked to be placed in my care, and I promise I will make that as entertaining as possible! Within reason."
Zane's eyes are locked onto that hand that reaches past him, the barest hints of one of his smiles threatening to break through. He doesn't even have to touch him and Casper Darling is losing his mind.
And then the scientist mentions reason.
Zane narrows his eyes slightly, still not moving from his spot.
Okay. He can reason. He can be as serious as Darling's serious face. He can meet him half way.
"What about the long term?" He asks, and waits with bated breath to see if Darling will take the bait.
Tom is staring at him so hard it feels like a physical touch, and it's driving him absolutely insane. He tries to concentrate on his cigarette, staring up towards the ceiling because Tom's position leaning against the desk puts Darling at eye level with his very bare chest.
"If I can get time away from the office, then yes. We can go have dinner somewhere. But considering I can't remember the last time I tasted fresh air, I don't know when that will be."
If. If is close enough. Zane finally leans forward, smile softening.
"Then taste it. With me! It's a win-win scenario, friend. A few hours away from your notes will give you a fresh perspective on things, and I can get out of this stuffy place and be a little more free. You'll be with me the entire time. I want you to be with me the entire time. It would be a terrible date otherwise."
The term date startles him, and Casper Darling nearly chokes on smoke. He manages to exhale in time, clearing his throat.
"A date? That wasn't part of it. No, I will -- I will take you outside of the House so we can get something to eat and stretch our legs a bit, at some point. Only because I should, I will concede, leave the office at some point. And because you're not allowed to leave without me, so that's -- it's a rule I have to abide by."
There it is. The bait. The in. Zane's won. In lieu of a victory dance, that satisfied smirk is back on his face as he plucks the cigarette from Darling's hand and makes sure to hold eye contact.
"You enjoy following rules, don't you?" he says, and the hand that's stolen the cigarette also gently tugs at that damned bowtie. When he withdraws, he takes a long drag.
Darling swallows hard, touching his tongue to his lips for a moment before he's able to form words again. Because yes, he does, and yes he wants so badly to be praised and told he's doing well, and Trench won't give him that. It drives him crazy, being denied something he craves.
And here's this near stranger, zeroing in on that. Dragging it out of him, somehow.
"The rules -- " His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat again. "The rules are in place for your safety, and the safety of everyone here in the Bureau."
"And I will follow the rules," Zane assures, smoothing one if Darling's lapels down, "when we go out and see a film this Sunday. A matinee--I want to feel sunlight again. I want to see if I remember it properly."
Another drag. Zane offers the cigarette back.
"You can choose everything. The movie, the theatre, the dinner. Everything above code and board approved for your sanity, my little pencil pusher."
"This Sunday," he repeats, accepting the cigarette and leaning back again. Trying to pretend he's a lot more calm than he currently is.
"You seem very confident that I can make that work for you that quickly. I may be your handler, but ultimately, The Director has to approve everything. He's not nearly as nice as I am."
Pencil pusher stings, and he rubs at his ear with a sigh. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, but maybe if it's on my dime and not the company's, he won't be as stubborn about it."
"Darling. I have confidence in you," Zane answers, almost affronted that the other would think otherwise. But that little tick as he rubs at his ear, the way the Doctor seems so very worn and not just about the situation...
Tom eases up. Slightly. He presses that bowtie in a similar fashion as he had earlier--good boy--and shifts off of Darling's desk so he can finally get some of that work done.
"It's a good thing the Director's not going, then, it's just you and I."
That little touch to his bowtie, god. Why does that fluster him so much? Zane looking at him so intensely isn't helping, either.
It takes him a moment to recover after he catches himself staring at Tom as he shifts off the desk. "Right, well. I can't promise Sunday. But as soon as I catch a moment to breathe, we can leave the house for a bit. Even if it's just around the corner for a coffee that isn't brewed to motor oil strength."
Darling will never catch a moment to breathe. Zane knows this, probably more than Darling--the man's far too wrapped up in whatever's going on in his own head to be self-aware like that. It's not like Tom is, sure, but he's at least perceptive about this sort of thing. It lends itself to art.
"I'm Finnish. A coffee date will do, too." Zane's smile is a little softer, something tinging the corner of his lips before it's gone in an instant. Doesn't matter. He gets a taste of freedom. He also gets a taste of Darling.
"I don't know many Finns, outside of Ahti." Though knowing Ahti isn't like knowing anyone else at all, so he assumes the man (also questionable) isn't representative of Finnish culture. "Are you big coffee drinkers?"
There's... something, in Zane's request. Something that Darling can't quite place. Not shy, that's not it. Hopeful, maybe? Or maybe he's projecting.
"I will ask, yes. And report back as soon I have an answer that's more than an eyebrow raise."
Zane laughs a little at that remark--coffee is a form of lifeblood to him, though not nearly as much as the significant amount of alcohol he knocks back on a very frequent basis.
"Or..."
He's quiet for a second, picking up a pen, casting a sidelong glance at the younger man.
There's a sigh, and Darling grinds his cigarette out. He has a lot of pull in this place. Trench's golden boy, alleged favourite out of all the department heads. He's free to do quite a lot of things without having to pass it by Trench.
But this? This is... delicate. "You're not part of my department, technically. Or you are, but as a subject, not an employee. Ever since we caught a former employee bringing altered items home and nearly causing a catastrophe, removing paranatural objects from the Oldest House has become a lot more difficult. There are rules in place for what I can and can't take out of here. Thus sleeping in my office.
I'd have to borrow you, essentially. And for that, I need his permission."
Zane's smile is still genial, even if that grip on Darling's pen is awful tight.
"I was thinking about that," he says casually, blue eyes narrowed, watching Darling try to piece together the nicest way to remind him he's here, trapped, and at the whims of others when he's valued freedom over nearly everything for so long.
It's not kind to remind someone they're in a cage. He knows that, and he's not trying to rattle the bars. Just... remind Zane what the circumstances are, and why Darling can't simply take him out any day he pleases.
But the comment pulls him up short, and he frowns slightly. "Oh?" he asks, sitting up straighter in his chair. "And what brought on this observation."
"Our higher callings are art and science, and we're both forced to answer to a man who ultimately doesn't care."
Those narrowed eyes look pointedly at Trench's portrait. The grip on the pen lessens and he reminds himself that Darling's not his enemy. There's no point in pushing buttons in this manner other than the cheap satisfaction of bringing someone down to his current level. Zane sighs and rises.
"Tightrope walking," he recites, moving towards Darling and softly sliding his hand to his chin to force him to make eye contact.
"Would you choose a safety net that traps you and kills the thrill?"
The hand slides up Darling's face, the dark haired man moving his face closer, thumb brushing just below the scientist's lower lip.
"I'm sorry. Thank you for trying." His words are very, very earnest.
His lips part, just a little, at the way Tom tips his chin up. He hasn't been touched with such gentleness and purpose since -- god, what? Grad school? Years, anyway. It tugs at the centre of him in a way he's not sure he can handle, but he lets it happen anyway, because he needs it, even if he can't admit that out loud.
Darling thinks, for a moment, to protest the comment about Trench not caring. But that's not the point right now, is it?
Instead, he offers, "I'm going to talk to him. We'll get to go out, I promise."
"This is why I like you," Zane says softly, smile just as gentle. "Unlike everyone here I feel like you tell the truth."
And unlike everyone here, Darling's curiousity isn't tinged at all with fear. He's seen that mixture in Langston's face. A dismissive hatred in Trench's. Darling? Darling is just sheer, unbridled thirst to understand. That makes such a fundamental difference, and the parautilitarian can't help but cherish it.
There's mild annoyance in Darling, too, but that might be because he does stuff like this: the coffee he has in his hand, when raised to his lips, is a perfect mixed drink. No one said anything about not using powers here.
"Kippis." He looks pointedly down at Darling's own drink.
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"I mean to see the world! Get some inspiration, restart your brainwaves. Follow the ebb and flow of chaos around you to draw from a fresh perspective."
He's reaching for that coffee again, still eyeing Darling.
"If you won't go home than you should at least do something relaxing."
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Darling sighs and steeples his fingers, resting them against his lips while he tries to study Tom's face. Read his expression. "I don't think you want me to get out. I think you want to get out, and you know you can't do that without me."
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"Is it so bad to want both?" he asks, finally taking a sip. When he lowers the mug, he speaks again.
"Come see a movie with me."
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The scientist sighs and tries to lean back a little to counteract Tom's invasion of his space. "I'm happy to walk with you down to the cafeteria, I should probably eat something today. And you can return that coat."
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Active indeed.
"We could eat popcorn. Better yet, dinner before the show. Italian?"
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"Tom, this is me being serious. With my serious face. I do not have the time -- nor, in fact, the budget -- to take you out to dinner and a movie. I know you've been asked to be placed in my care, and I promise I will make that as entertaining as possible! Within reason."
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And then the scientist mentions reason.
Zane narrows his eyes slightly, still not moving from his spot.
Okay. He can reason. He can be as serious as Darling's serious face. He can meet him half way.
"What about the long term?" He asks, and waits with bated breath to see if Darling will take the bait.
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"If I can get time away from the office, then yes. We can go have dinner somewhere. But considering I can't remember the last time I tasted fresh air, I don't know when that will be."
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"Then taste it. With me! It's a win-win scenario, friend. A few hours away from your notes will give you a fresh perspective on things, and I can get out of this stuffy place and be a little more free. You'll be with me the entire time. I want you to be with me the entire time. It would be a terrible date otherwise."
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"A date? That wasn't part of it. No, I will -- I will take you outside of the House so we can get something to eat and stretch our legs a bit, at some point. Only because I should, I will concede, leave the office at some point. And because you're not allowed to leave without me, so that's -- it's a rule I have to abide by."
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"You enjoy following rules, don't you?" he says, and the hand that's stolen the cigarette also gently tugs at that damned bowtie. When he withdraws, he takes a long drag.
"Good boy."
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Darling swallows hard, touching his tongue to his lips for a moment before he's able to form words again. Because yes, he does, and yes he wants so badly to be praised and told he's doing well, and Trench won't give him that. It drives him crazy, being denied something he craves.
And here's this near stranger, zeroing in on that. Dragging it out of him, somehow.
"The rules -- " His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat again. "The rules are in place for your safety, and the safety of everyone here in the Bureau."
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Another drag. Zane offers the cigarette back.
"You can choose everything. The movie, the theatre, the dinner. Everything above code and board approved for your sanity, my little pencil pusher."
And, after only a small pause.
"Please?"
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"You seem very confident that I can make that work for you that quickly. I may be your handler, but ultimately, The Director has to approve everything. He's not nearly as nice as I am."
Pencil pusher stings, and he rubs at his ear with a sigh. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, but maybe if it's on my dime and not the company's, he won't be as stubborn about it."
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Tom eases up. Slightly. He presses that bowtie in a similar fashion as he had earlier--good boy--and shifts off of Darling's desk so he can finally get some of that work done.
"It's a good thing the Director's not going, then, it's just you and I."
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It takes him a moment to recover after he catches himself staring at Tom as he shifts off the desk. "Right, well. I can't promise Sunday. But as soon as I catch a moment to breathe, we can leave the house for a bit. Even if it's just around the corner for a coffee that isn't brewed to motor oil strength."
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"I'm Finnish. A coffee date will do, too." Zane's smile is a little softer, something tinging the corner of his lips before it's gone in an instant. Doesn't matter. He gets a taste of freedom. He also gets a taste of Darling.
"..You'll really do it, won't you? Ask?"
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There's... something, in Zane's request. Something that Darling can't quite place. Not shy, that's not it. Hopeful, maybe? Or maybe he's projecting.
"I will ask, yes. And report back as soon I have an answer that's more than an eyebrow raise."
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"Or..."
He's quiet for a second, picking up a pen, casting a sidelong glance at the younger man.
"You could just do it and not let him know?"
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But this? This is... delicate. "You're not part of my department, technically. Or you are, but as a subject, not an employee. Ever since we caught a former employee bringing altered items home and nearly causing a catastrophe, removing paranatural objects from the Oldest House has become a lot more difficult. There are rules in place for what I can and can't take out of here. Thus sleeping in my office.
I'd have to borrow you, essentially. And for that, I need his permission."
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"I was thinking about that," he says casually, blue eyes narrowed, watching Darling try to piece together the nicest way to remind him he's here, trapped, and at the whims of others when he's valued freedom over nearly everything for so long.
"How you and I, maybe, aren't so dissimilar."
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But the comment pulls him up short, and he frowns slightly. "Oh?" he asks, sitting up straighter in his chair. "And what brought on this observation."
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Those narrowed eyes look pointedly at Trench's portrait. The grip on the pen lessens and he reminds himself that Darling's not his enemy. There's no point in pushing buttons in this manner other than the cheap satisfaction of bringing someone down to his current level. Zane sighs and rises.
"Tightrope walking," he recites, moving towards Darling and softly sliding his hand to his chin to force him to make eye contact.
"Would you choose a safety net that traps you and kills the thrill?"
The hand slides up Darling's face, the dark haired man moving his face closer, thumb brushing just below the scientist's lower lip.
"I'm sorry. Thank you for trying." His words are very, very earnest.
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Darling thinks, for a moment, to protest the comment about Trench not caring. But that's not the point right now, is it?
Instead, he offers, "I'm going to talk to him. We'll get to go out, I promise."
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And unlike everyone here, Darling's curiousity isn't tinged at all with fear. He's seen that mixture in Langston's face. A dismissive hatred in Trench's. Darling? Darling is just sheer, unbridled thirst to understand. That makes such a fundamental difference, and the parautilitarian can't help but cherish it.
There's mild annoyance in Darling, too, but that might be because he does stuff like this: the coffee he has in his hand, when raised to his lips, is a perfect mixed drink. No one said anything about not using powers here.
"Kippis." He looks pointedly down at Darling's own drink.
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