A LAWFUL WASTELAND

[counterattack]

[ it's December 8. Law turns 18 today. at this point, he's been living in Copalli for over a year. during the final relic fiasco, he achieved trance within about five seconds (because it's basically overlimit) and faced Tiamat in her castle because he had a score to settle with dragons (dragons, wyverns, same shit) and had enough taking shit from these mother fucking guardians in this mother fucking jungle. it was epic.

anyway, it's a few months later and Law lives in Tikal again, down at the bottom of the crater. they've built bridges and pulleys aboveground, as well as created a system to keep the crater from filling with water when it rains. although most of his farm was lost during Tikal's fall, he's rebuilt it bigger and better than ever and repopulated it with even more chickens, hogs, cows and even a few semi-domesticated mist monsters. there's also proper crops, probably due in part to at least one friend or another planting on the huge expanse of land he's set up there. he also rebuilt the inn that collapsed on top of him back then, and this time it's actually finished. he got a local business manager to help run the place and they export animal products and crops all over Copalli. the inn is booming. it's great.

all is well.

except now it's his birthday and Law is just trying to go about his business like he doesn't know that, strapping on his fancy wolf gauntlets and shouldering a big pack of supplies to go make some delivery trips to the other cities. nothin' to see here, not ya lil dude all growed up, a solid 5'9" (and a half) with some cool tribal tats done over his wyvern scars and something of a more mature countenance, buuuuuttt still the dweebo dorkus doofus meathead he's always been.

ANYWAY, THIS IS #LATERGRAM INCENSEDVERSE. medallion him, meet him at any of the cities, fight monsters together on the road, pretend there was a party planned that he's trying to sneak out of showing up to, WHATEVER WORKS. ]

Comments

[indeferent]

_{[ he can't help it, not really — the ugly snort and bark of laughter that slips out is mostly involuntary and when Law abandons the table to plead Isabela for help, Gladio reaches over to take a handful of the offending cheetos for himself. enough of them might get him sweating but a little bit like this? he'll be fine. he may not have Prompto's love for hot, spicy things but he can still appreciate a good kick when he feels one. ]}

You don't know "eating actual fire" until you've had legit Galahdian food, kid.

_{[ a beat, and he taps at the glass of water— ]}

Try milk next time, too. It's supposed to work better.

_{[ n-not that he'd know or anything. shut up. ]}

[counterattack]

I know about eating fire, believe me.

[ I mean....... haha, yeah, about that. He Alphen when he was a fire monster and scorched his mouth right before he got his jaws wrenched open and his neck broken and Alphen died from his wounds, so... like, yeah, he has eaten actual fire. But he means the spicy food. The "I can't feel anything so everyone else has to suffer" dinners that he trusted with his whole heart and was betrayed by.

Coughing, eyes water, Law chugs down that water and then searches for another bag of those harmless potato chips to wolf down, his tail whipping back and forth, more like an agitated cat than a canine. ]

I like spicy food, but there's such a thing as too much, y'know? That's screwed up, man. I'm gonna get you back so bad for this.

[indeferent]

You know you're not supposed to actually drink the fire when they light the shot up, right?

_{[ he's teasing, he's teasing. Gladio makes it known with a double boot knock against an ankle (and the chair) and a half-hearted "swat" to Law's hair, his lips pulled back in a full, partially-fangy grin. it's probably a good thing he hasn't wound up with a tail that lasted longer than a week, but if he had one? it would definitely be a hazard to the table behind him. at least his ears convey the message pretty well — alert, both perked slightly upwards and forward, but ultimately relaxed. ]}

It can't be seriously be that bad, can it?

[counterattack]

Huh? Wait, what? They light drinks on fire where you come from, too?

[ Well, that's a surprise. But the things that his world and other people's have in common often are, so by now he should probably have gotten used to it. Dahna and Rena are so different, with the only consistency between the two being whatever Renan bullshit they'd brought along with them when they took over and got cozy, so he'd always just assumed it would be the same for everywhere else. Funny little details like to pop up and catch him off guard, though.

As for whether it can be that bad, Law answers by capturing Gladio's calf where it keeps nudging him under the table, curling his leg around and hooking their ankles together. He might not understand how this particular type of flirting works, sorry. ]

In Cysloden, the guys always used to do "ice bombs." Super cold shot glasses full of white liquor that they'd light on fire. You'd just drop the whole thing in your mouth. You could always tell who was green by if they were dumb enough to try and drink the fire.

[ he tried to drink the fire.

To be fair, though, he never wanted to play those games in the first place. Even in the Snake Eyes, picking on the Dahnan tagalongs was a favorite pastime, and tormenting each other, backstabbing, and generally being kind of psychotic was, too. It was like a hazing that just never ended. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ he KICK Gladio? he kick his leg like football? oh! oh! jail for Law! jail for Law for One Thousand Years!!! only instead of jail Gladio simply cocks an eyebrow, huffs another quiet laugh, and leans into the hook. even without the flirtatious undertones this was... nice. really, really nice. how long has it been since he's actually had the chance to goof off with a friend?

too damn long, he thinks to himself. too. damn. long. ]</sub>

Yeah. We had a bunch of 'em but the ones I remember were called "Kiss of the Infernian" and things like that, but I don't think I knew anyone who tried to actually drink it. Definitely saw a couple people get their eyebrows singed off 'cause they stuck their faces too close to 'em when they were lit, though.

_{[ he was one of them. in his defense he was already pretty sloshed that night but still. that had been fun explaining to the others the next morning. ]}

They never did any of that in Calaglia? Just Cysloden?

[counterattack]

[ Just normal things to do with your homies: sit there with your ankles tangled, shoving chips and cheetohs in your face. Frankly, Law can't think of a better way to spend time on his birthday, all things considered. He never wanted much—he doesn't have it in him to know how to want very much, if he's being honest with himself. Just, y'know, to be happy. And not alone. Especially that last one.

Law shakes his head, ready to give the simple, uninformative answer. He can carry on a conversation about his life and life in general on Dahna without saying very much, a special skill you pick up when you spend a good chunk of your formative years having to watch every single syllable you utter. After he got here, it was just that self-consciousness, feeling like he needed to protect himself and his friends. Not having to answer for the circumstances of his life and choices was kind of liberating, in a... "feeling totally shut down" kind of way. ]

...I dunno. I ran away from home when I was ten, going on eleven. Back then, it wasn't possible to travel between realms, but I found a way to get out, and then... couldn't get back. I mean, I had myself totally convinced I didn't wanna go back, but... yeah. I was kinda too young to see that stuff. My dad might know, but we... haven't talked about it all that much. The stuff we both missed.

[ There, was that so hard? Look, it's not about it being "hard." It's just—it's complicated, alright? Still, Law doesn't have any issue meeting Gladio's eye, at least not once he gets a sentence or two in. ]

I haven't really had the chance to think about stuff like parties and birthdays until I got here, so it kinda all feels brand-new to me. I think I'm more like you, though. It's just good to spend it with people I care about. [ fuck ] As friends. With junk food. [ saved ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ the occasional jostle of their legs pauses when Law mentions his father and Gladio's expression softens. not talking about it much, huh? yeah, he gets that. he gets it. there were plenty of things he never talked to his own dad about too and if he had the chance to do it now...

Gladio pushes the thought down and brings his other foot in to "capture" Law's leg for a moment, then it starts to seek out his ankle but instead of hooking around it, he only touches. a quiet reassurance since he can't exactly lean his weight against Law's shoulder and all like he might've if they were somewhere else. he may get Extra Touchy when he's had a few drinks in him, but that's only because he's like that normally. ]</sub>

I get it. My dad... There were a lot of things we didn't... It was kinda awkward for us, I guess? But...

_{[ another bump, another nudge, and Gladio reaches across the table to mock punch-touch a section of ink on Law's arm. just because he's shit at expressing his own feelings doesn't mean he's shit at picking up on others. ]}

I'm glad you think so. It's nice, right? No expectations to perform for a wild party, you get to be yourself, and the people that really know you? They... they know how to make it special. It doesn't gotta be flashy or over the top to be memorable. And you don't gotta worry 'bout asking for something that might come off as weird in front of a bunch of strangers.

[counterattack]

[ Law smiles wanly as Gladio stumbles over his words. It's not the first time he's just gotten the sense that there's something Off about all that, like they're in the same boat. He'd rather not assume, and it's probably not great that he's always trying to see himself and Zephyr in his friends and their dads, comparing and contrasting their situations and relationships. In a way, it makes sense to do: shit's complicated, man, and he's trying to figure things out. That independent streak, remember.

Also what in the actual fuck are they doing with their legs? He doesn't know whether to kick him or play nice. Like is this flirting or play-fighting? (Spoilers, dude: it's both.) He settles for somewhere in the middle, nudging him with his other foot and then trying to capture and immobilize that ankle, too. At this rate, he's gonna slide right out of his chair. ]

Yeah, it's pretty good. My friends'll probably throw another little thing for me like before, but if they don't, I wouldn't be mad about it. Especially because I'm about to drink you under the table and never even make it back home in time for a party in the first place.

[ challenge accepted? yeah, just recall how fast he put away that first shot when they got here. it doesn't even touch him. Smirking, he reaches out and jabs Gladio in the arm right back. ]

Don't get all hot under the collar about that, now. It'll just make you sloppy.

[indeferent]

Someone's cocky.

_{[ Law can keep his one foot trapped for as long as he wants, but he's not going to make it easy for the second. each time he tries to trap him, he shuffles this way and that and every tap earns two in retaliation. really, it's a harmless game that almost reminds him of all those times he'd start "fights" with Noctis under the table at the Crows Nest when he'd get picky with his food or (more often than not) just to be a pain in his royal ass. it's fun and that's what matters. ]}

Whaddya say we make it more interesting? I win, I get that ear scratch I've been craving. You win, and you...

_{[ one brow goes up, silently questioning. name it. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Sure enough, Law slips right out of his seat wrestling around with his legs and has to catch himself on the edge of the table to keep from disappearing under it. Look, he may have gained a few inches, but not that many of them were in his legs, alright? He just got Elongated in general, not quite as much broadness to go along with it, but a little of that, too. Whatever, shut up. He pulls himself back up, daring Gladio to say some shit about it. ]

An ear scratch? That's it? You know I work with animals all day, right?

[ Well, sort of. He works with animals, oversees construction, fights monsters, does yoga, and has existential crises all day, but still. Ask any non-human creature with a head to pat around here and they'll tell ya: Law's the guy to go to for a good ear scratchin'. You can see the exact moment he realizes just how unrestricted his opportunity is here, though—it's when his face goes red, his lips parting ever so slightly as he takes in the look Gladio's wearing. Dude, you can't just look at him like that. It ain't right. ]

...Oh, uh. If I win, I—I want—

[ hjälp ]

Bragging rights.

[ wuss. ]

And a favor I can cash in on whenever I want.

[ better? maybe? ]

[indeferent]

Bragging rights?

_{[ ugh, such a Noct answer. he counters Law's little slide down with a quick tap to his calf as he scoots back up, and he very nearly almost has the urge to bring his leg up to drop it in Law's lap to be an even bigger pain. the table and size of the chairs prevent that though, that particular stunt being more suited to restaurant booths where he'd have a lot more leg room. since they don't have that kind of space, Gladio decides to flick one of the few remaining cheetos left in his hand right between the eyes. ]}

C'mon, you can do better than that. I know you can come up with something better than "bragging rights." You get the favor, but what else?

_{[ c h i c k e n. ]}

When I say anything, I mean anything. If it's in my power? You'll get it. Don't be a wuss—

[counterattack]

Don't say anything, then, geez!

[ He's being goaded. I mean, no shit, a blind person could see he's being goaded, he's not that dumb, but still. Part of him wonders what the hell he's stalling for, and the other still feels like he has to play it safe. His confidence where all this sort of thing is concerned is a budding bloom, in need of just a little water, just a bit of sunshine. Today could very well be the day those magnificent, incorrigible teenage dirtbag petals finally unfurl, and here he is talking about bragging rights.

Alright, let's assess this. How would someone cooler than him pull this off? Law racks his brains for some helpful advice, some example to draw from. What would, like, Alphen do in this situation? Or his da—no. Oh astrals. Never mind. Nope. No examples. He has to do this on his own.

Brow furrowing, he just goes for it. Kicks Gladio in the shin harder than he means to and leans his elbow on the table so he can look cool and casual, crushing a bunch of chips in the process with a noisy, muffled crunch. And he gets dinged right in the face with that cheetoh. Fantastic. So cool. What a badass. ]

Fine—ngh. Fine, if you lose, you're going out with me. On a date.

[ no. MORE AGGRESSIVE. ]

Not a friend date. A real one!

[ YEAH!! ]

[indeferent]

I'm just sayin' that bragging rights is pretty we— Ow!

<sub>[ the lesson here folks? don't poke the wolf with the proverbial stick when said wolf has enough power in one leg to kick the ass of a literal wolf-god the size of Deadeye. it doesn't actually hurt — not really — but it's enough to make him nearly pout as if he'd just been kicked by Iris in the past when the Amicitias would inevitably have petty "squabbles". one hand reaches under the table to soothe the dull ache in his shin while he flicks another cheeto and a half-grumble of brat.

y e p, this is normal. just another day ending in Y on Copalli.

his train of thought abruptly comes to a stop when Law goes and says that, but not for the reasons one might think. for a moment he looks like an Anak caught in headlights: brows and ears up, eyes wide, and his mouth partially open. then his expression shifts into a crooked half-grin of near disbelief. Thank the Six, he thinks. thank you, fuzzy ears. the thought isn't a bad one at all either. part of him was still curious about what went down on that first date with Prompto, but...

fuck it. this would be theirs, wouldn't it? no need for comparisons. ]</sub>

A favor and a date.

_{[ Gladio begins to offer his hand only to pull it up when he's halfway across— ]}

I get to touch your tail too if I win.

_{[ aaaaaaaaand back out it goes. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Finally. He's been holding that in for, what, six months? Maybe more? God—no, it's been closer to a year, almost. Gladio and the guys showed up right after Kiichpan got destroyed, and that was only a couple of months after his birthday if he recalls correctly, and... yeah, it was pretty much a "holy shit" at first sight with all of them. (...Almost all of them. Lose some weight, Noctis.)

Man. Nearly a year for him to finally crack. And what exactly did it take to get it to happen? Junk food. Not even the alcohol, because that one shot doesn't count for a thing and they haven't started drinking the other stuff yet. Law doesn't quite look surprised that Gladio agrees, but any amount of it that does show on his face is more at himself than anything. Like, dang, didn't know he had it in him. Prompto got the drop on him before, and everything had kind of fallen apart after that, so he never got the chance to try and make up for it, but maybe he is now, here, finally having a little confidence. Maybe he'll shoot his shot at Ignis next. Ha ha. (Help.) ]

What is it with you and my tail?

[ Lamely, but no less flushed with his feathers all ruffled, Law smacks his palm into Gladio's and gives his hand a very firm shake. Hey, at least he isn't all sweaty. When he went out with Prompto, he kept having to find ways to subtly wipe his hands off, his nerves were that bad. ]

Deal. But you're not gonna win, so you'll have to settle for the tail action in your dreams.

[ phrasing. that was on purpose though. he's trying to save face here. ]

[indeferent]

What? It's soft and I bet it'd feel nice.

<sub>[ not like Gladio would know, unfortunately. Behemoths sometimes had a thicker winter coat depending on what parts of the world they lived in, but Gladio wasn't one of them. whenever he changes he's lucky to wind up with something akin to a labrador's outside of his mane — enough to run ones fingers through, but not long enough to derive any genuine pleasure out of it like he would if someone were to play with his hair. surely it's bound to feel just as nice when it comes to tails, right? he's a giver.

once Law slips his hand into Gladio's, he resists the urge to pull him forward to plant a kiss to the top of his knuckles. the ball is in Law's court, not his. maybe on the actual date? but... hm. it's not going to stop him from swiping his thumb over the back of his hand once, though. that he allows himself to do. ]</sub>

Who's to say it's not already in 'em? They make me wonder...

_{[ wonder what? he refuses to elaborate and instead uses his free hand to twist off the top of the bottle and tilt it towards Law for a quick sniff. one thing is for certain — it's not the paint remover they call alcohol here. this was more sweet. almost with a hint of some sort of spice. Gladio couldn't say for sure what it was given parts of the label was in an old dialect he never learned, but he knew it was good and that's all anyone can ask for. ]}

Whaddya think? Yea or nay?

[counterattack]

Wonder wha—

[ If Law had those dog-ears he's overdue for, this would be when they'd prick up. The touch to his hand is one thing, but he can handle that. I mean, sheesh, he's at least held hands before. He's eighteen, not sixteen, man. A grown-up. An adult who can do adult things. (Technically, by Calaglian standards, he was a grown-up who could do grown-up things at sixteen, too, but who's counting, not him. He's not good at math, even.) It's the smell of what's in that bottle that instantly catches his attention. His senses are sharp, but none of that smells familiar to him at all. And yeah, it's not the straight gasoline Isabela's got on tap, that's for sure. ]

Oooh...

[ That smells like the kind of sweet that he likes: spicy-sweet. Cinnamon-sweet, like mango paleta con chile, which he will fucking lose his mind if anyone ever introduces to him. Grinning, he tightens his grip on Gladio's hand, then lets his fingers slip away. You're not getting his lips on your skin that easily, buddy. Give it a few shots first. ]

Yeah, I'm in. We doing this, or what?

[indeferent]

Hold your 'bos, birthday boy.

_{[ a half-snort of laughter and Gladio lets him pull his hand back so he can start pouring their shots, Law's first and his own second. the bottle goes in the middle of the table surrounded by that cozy, crinkly nest of bags, and then he's passing one glass across the table held between his thumb and middle finger. ]}

Savor the first one — you'll thank me for it.

_{[ but Gladio? naw, he's knocking half of his back already. he's missed this, okay? ]}

[counterattack]

What, you think I need a handicap?

[ No, but seriously, he probably would have done anyway. Law takes the glass and gives it another sniff, closer-up, then takes more of a sip than a swig, just to check out the flavor first. It doesn't taste quite the way it'd smelled—it's sure as fuck not candy, hoo boy. Still, most of what he gets out of it is taste rather than the sting of strong liquor, so it hits him real, real smooth. Not even the wine Dohalim had served them back during their first meeting in Menancia had tasted like this, and he'd thought that was as fancy as fancy could get, drinks-wise. ]

Wow, that's... really good. It tastes like... what liquid gald probably tastes like, I guess. Rich. Fancy.

[ Cool. Down the hatch goes the rest. Look, he at least takes the time to let it touch his tongue before he swallows it, alright? Not even so much as a grimace afterward. Look at this fucking chump: he's got the food preferences of a twelve year old (I want chicken nuggets!!!) and the tolerance for alcohol of a fifty year old man. ]

Oh, yeah. This isn't gonna be a problem.

[indeferent]

S'one of the oldest in my dad's collection. I think it's... It's not Lucis-old, but it's definitely a couple hundred. I... think it was a gift? I don't really remember 'cause he's had it for as long as I can remember, but I know he didn't buy it. I never saw him splurge on expensive booze for himself, just for friends 'n stuff.

<sub>[ maybe it was a shield-coronation gift? wedding? Clarus never did answer when he asked as a kid, nor would he ever get the chance to now. the mystery makes it that much more thrilling, and seeing as it's just an exact copy from the dragon itself he doesn't have to worry about any guilt which is the best kind of expensive, hard liquor.

the best kind to pair with the cheapest junk food money can buy. ]</sub>

Make sure to pace yourself, alright? I want that date but I'm not throwing the game just to get it.

_{[ WINKWINK. ]}

[counterattack]

You won't have to. I'm gonna win fair an—wait, what? You do?

[ Dude... serious?

Okay, obviously he hadn't had any problem with agreeing to the terms of this contest, which implies something. If Gladio hadn't wanted any part of this, or if he had just been humoring him, it probably would've been really obvious. Still, it's one thing to agree to it and another to say you want it, you know? Like, actually want it. Actively want it. Law stops short with his glass slid forward for a refill and his other hand securing that smashed bag of chips he'd demolished with his elbow, eyes a little rounder than he means for them to be.

And he must realize it, because he course-corrects a moment or two later, clearing his throat with a bit too much pronunciation. A-HEMMM... ]

I mean... geez. If you're that serious about it, you could've just said something sooner.

[ As if it hasn't been some subliminal, unspoken thing that that ball's been in his court for nearly a year now or something. They never said anything, never gave any real indicator, but it's just one of those cosmic things Law knew without knowing: if it was ever gonna happen, he was gonna have to be the one to make it so. Hence why it didn't. For a year. Because he sucks. (And also his world almost ended twice, and he got eaten by wyverns, and he died, so there's that too.) ]

[indeferent]

Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?

<sub>[ a hundred percent anyway. there was always some unspoken thing but Gladio had never dared take that final step over the line. they'd tease one another in the way that Gladio always teased his friends. they'd get physical while sparring and sometimes — sometimes — Gladio would stay on his back for a few seconds longer than usual under the guise of having the wind knocked out of him or simply out of surprise. they'd touch one another over speaking because words were hard and too complicated when something simple was needed instead, and... it was comfortable.

he just wasn't sure if that's something Law actually wanted and hence he'd simply been content to wait. let Law come to him first, and then he'd move.

he tosses his glass back, refills his own, and then Law's. a beat, and Gladio bites at his lower lip. ]</sub>

Not... completely, anyway. I didn't wanna risk this — _{[ a vague gesture between the two of them, ]} — when I wasn't completely sure where we... uh.

_{[ shot time? shot time. ]}

[counterattack]

...Oh. I thought... it was kinda obvious.

[ He'd tried to be subtle about it, kind of, but subtle isn't exactly his middle name. Every time he slipped up it'd always seemed as though Gladio was quick to capitalize on it and tease him, but that could've also just been his personality. I mean, everybody else always teases him and picks on him, and he's pretty sure none of them want to get with him, either (unless?!).

Yeah, it's. It's shot time. Somehow, he keeps from flushing about it, but that's more because he's feeling that squirmy, awkward sort of feeling rather than flustered. Rather than just chug it back, though, Law kind of drains his in one long sip, which at least has the benefit of being able to taste it before it's gone. Dohalim would probably know what this stuff is. He'd probably have something snooty to say about it, too. That at least gets a modicum of good humor back in him, thinking about it. ]

I guess it probably doesn't help that I already went out with Prompto. I didn't wanna make things weird, either. And I'm, uh... pretty used to not... uh.

[ he literally cannot even find the words for what he's trying to say. god, how lame can he get? What he actually started to say was not being what people want, but that's not even it. (That is it. He's just not going to say it.) ]

Used to just being a friend, I mean. I guess. Or, y'know. Just a kid.

[ And back goes the rest of the shot. ]

[indeferent]

I've been told I can be pretty thick-skulled.

<sub>[ more behemoth jokes at his expense? always. at least he's stopped taking them to heart after getting used to Those changes, even if it still rubs him the wrong way if he really sits and thinks about it. with friends it's okay, though. himself? it's... tricky. he still thinks about that day in Kiichpan when the locals shot at him. he still thinks about running into Noct and nearly losing control of himself. he remembers having him pinned under a heavy paw, teeth mere inches from his king's face and the shame that washed over him when he'd come to his senses. to say he was touchy about any and all jokes was an understatement for awhile.

but... none of them had held it against him. they still accepted him. Noctis never shied away when he really ought to have, and Law... his father changed often, didn't he? so really, Gladio had no reason to be worried about that but Prompto— ]</sub>

That's... part of it too I think. I'm not Blondie, so... I wasn't exactly sure if I was your type.

_{[ a half-grin and Gladio laughs, shaking his head. as awkward as it all feels, it's strangely nice to get it all out in the open. shots or no shots. ]}

'specially with the horns. And everything else that comes with it. With strangers I don't give a damn if I shoot my shot and miss, but with someone I'm friends with? That's where I get worried. So... I get it. 'sides, it's not often I find myself on the other side of it all — being asked versus me doin' the asking first. I kinda like it.

[counterattack]

[ Once he's finished that shot, Law lets out a clipped laugh. "Type"? Does he even have a type? When he first got here he would've said definitively that it was just "hot chicks", but life has a funny way of surprising you with who you are, for one thing, and for another, Copalli has had a funny way of bringing things from deep inside up to the surface that had been buried so deep, he hadn't even known they were issues until they were being weaponized against him by the incense. Some of that had obviously been problematic and traumatizing, like his deep and complicated history with indoctrination into the Renans' regime, but some of it was just... feelings. About his family, his friends, other things. In a way, he'd almost been lucky to have those things forced up and out of him, instead of being allowed to keep them buried. It would have made things even more awkward than they're feeling right now if he were still in total denial about the sorts of people he's interested in.

Anyway, all that to say: a type? Nah. As it turns out, he's pretty open. ]

Man, how could you not be somebody's type? Have you even seen yourself? The horns don't matter. None of that matters. And if it does, it's just another part of you.

[ They might've, once, but yeah, he's had a long time to get very used to transformations, even partial ones. He's been through the whole emotional gauntlet on that, too (what if this is what I really am? Just some twisted zeugle, a monster bent on violence that can't see, but can smell fear and taste pain?), but Trance really helped him come to terms with all that.

And also, just, like, let's just say, when he's checking Gladio out, the horns are the last thing his eye is drawn to, okkkk. ]

I get it, though. I've never... tried it before. I didn't know I could do it, and I hate not getting it right the first time, y'know? All it takes is one screwup to ruin everything.

[ ha ha... ha... ok, let's not be so dire, we're just talking about a date. sheesh. ]

I thought you were tryin' to make a point. Like, get me to man up first. So I did. No regrets.

[ some regrets, mostly related to what a nard he is. please refill that glass god he needs it. ]

[indeferent]

I don't think I gotta ever worry about you needing to man up. Noct? Sure, 'cause that's part of my job but you? Dude, I've seen the things you can do. The things you've done...

<sub>[ Gladio pauses to refill as he's asked, his eyes lifting up to meet Law's for a spell or two. even when he wasn't hanging around he'd always hear little stories and tidbits from the local population whether it be about that cozy little farm or just how he'd help people in general. that was something to admire and respect in his book, and Law? had anyone told Gladio a year ago that he'd meet someone so headstrong and caring like him outside of his immediate circle and even catch a few feelings in a world like this one, he might've laughed.

he's not thinking about laughing anymore. no way. ]</sub>

It'd take more than a fumbled confession to ruin everything between us, runt. Like trying to date my sister or something.

_{[ he's kidding, he's kidding. or is he? ]}

Real talk? I'm glad you spat it out like you did. I like when people're upfront and direct like that, 'cause that means neither one of us gotta sit around trying to figure out what we mean.

_{[ shot number 3 for Gladio? g o n e. c'mere, number four. he's gotta get all of this out before he starts saying Stupid Things and makes an utter fool out of himself. ]}