And in which Vincent doesn't remember having cocoa with Veld until much much later.
Setting: A sitting room in Ansem's gummi ship.
Character(s): Vincent, bloodyredvelvet, and Ansem, i_pwn_the_world
Status: Closed
( I remember having done that before... )
Character(s): Vincent, bloodyredvelvet, and Ansem, i_pwn_the_world
Status: Closed
( I remember having done that before... )
No matter what direction he chose to look at this from, it didn't make any sense.
He disliked the feeling of being confused and unsettled--and he couldn't get the mental image of Veld and Tseng out of his head, which was even more unpleasant. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and made his stomach turn. It wasn't jealousy, it was...no, it just wasn't jealousy. It wasn't anything.
Quietly, he made his way over to the kitchenette, mechanically making himself a cup of cocoa. He leaned up to get the whiskey out of the cupboard, and halfway inbetween opening it, he froze.
Looking back at Ansem, who wasn't saying anything, his brows drew together just slightly in confusion. It had to be a coincidence...otherwise, how could he have known? The sensations conflicted within his chest, the jea--whatever it was, and then the memory of being with Veld...
Pouring more than a couple shots' worth into the cocoa [he surmised that he needed it, considering the headache that refused to leave his skull], he sat down on the couch, feeling thoroughly awkward as he sipped at the mug in silence.
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Yes, small talk, perking curiosity. Ansem didn't expect Vincent to open up to him, but he would hope that the other man would offer something for him to work with.
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The situation was familiar, but it wasn't the same. Ansem lacked the warmth and scowling grumpiness that Veld had owned, his personality rather cold and distant. If Vincent were to classify the feeling he received from Ansem as anything, it felt like a gun that was pointed at him, about to shoot him in the face. Cool, smooth, distant, yet deadly and with a dangerous allure that would have been easy to fall into for any person who didn't understand warnings.
He was not one of those people, but the feeling of deja vu was unsettling nonetheless. Coincidental, he reassured himself, and the dream about Tseng and Veld had only been that--a dream. Getting his hackles up because of a dream was ridiculous.
Vincent couldn't blame Veld if he had found someone else. Of course, it had always been that way--he had been second to Ifalna, second to most everything in Veld's life. He had no right to be jealous in the first place, even if it had happened, and even if it stung.
The liquor helped to ease the tension out of him as the time went by, and he scooched closer to Ansem on the couch, leaning to peek at the pages of the book. "What is it about?"
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He moved slightly, not touching Vincent and sipping at his cup. "I don't mind if you'd like to read over my shoulder." He would have to read slowly, he figured, doubting that the scruffy brunette would have been able to read as smoothly as Ansem himself.
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