lestercraft | TLV: IC Inbox

He can sense Arthur heading towards the room, tries to figure out if he should slip out before finishing his neatening up, and decides 'fuck it', because he's been cleaning this room for weeks along with his own. Arthur has to have noticed.

He's a fucking detective.

I'm in here, he says gently as Arthur gets within a few feet of the door, Just so that you don't get startled. I was just cleaning. Hi.

And Arthur's presence pauses outside his room for a few moments: there's that distinct edge of pure contradiction that makes him want to keep walking for a few moments, but it doesn't take much to pull himself together and open his own door, eyes landing on John more from instinct than searching.

"You know you don't need to do this," he says instead, a little clipped but mostly from the lingering surprise.

"I do know that," he says easily enough, straightening up a shelf. He considers how to follow up and decides on the less flattering truth. "Being in your space helps, however, especially in giving you space. This place still has your... enough of you to feel."

Beat.

"And this way I don't feel the urge to neaten things when I come see you."

"If I'd known you were going to be this much of a fusspot about it when you were finally able to separate from me," he grumbles, but it's largely toothless.

He leans on the door, folding his arms across his chest. Feeling like he caught John with his hands in the metaphorical cookie jar, rather than actually in trouble. "So why am I catching you in my room?"

The cookie jar of not wanting your room to be a mess? Sure. He'll even let you see the crumbs on his upper lip for that one if he has to.

...there are shelves. Why do you keep putting things in piles, Arthur? Why?

"Because you came back earlier than I thought you would?" is his answer to that, "not that I mind. Especially since I haven't had a chance to talk to you properly in... too long."

...honestly, fair. He did come home at an odd time for him.

"Well, we can have that conversation in your room, rather than here," he points out more calmly, pushing off the door to open it for them. "I'll make us some tea."

"Works for me," because if he could move Arthur out of this room permanently and set this room on fire he would, and he'll trot towards the door, catching it so they can both head over to the next one over.

"Is there a reason you were headed back early? Nothing wrong, I hope."

"Not particularly," he replies readily. "With Leickenbloom in the wardrobe as well now, there's more hands and less work, so I was planning on moving some of the books in there to the library while I remembered." Get them out of his fucking life one burst of furious energy at a time.

"Want an extra pair of arms?"

After they finish, of course. John heads for the door, gets them in easy enough, and then he's heading for the pot to get the water on.

"How is he as a supervisor? Leickenbloom, I mean. He seems... exacting."

"Yeah, well, with how well we kept the place beforehand there's not much for him to be too severe about," he comments easily, getting their cups out. "He's just a stickler for idiocy, so luckily it's just Ken to worry about."

"And Ken's still down, right? I thought I saw something about that."

He'll get the pot out as well. He pauses as he looks at the pantry.

"...snacks?"

"Yeah, he's been in a coma for nearly two weeks now."

He glances up at the question, and gives a half smile. "Something savoury, maybe?"

He winces, because Ken's a sweet guy. They've talked a couple of times. All the same, he'll grab some crackers to make a cheese platter for them. It won't take but a few minutes and they can talk meanwhile.

"I'm glad it's him. He likes you."

"He's a good person. Exacting standards, but- that's not really a downside. I'm glad for him, that he's graduated."

It's hard to feel anything really negative towards other graduates, even now. They'd certainly earned it, and deserve that new chance at life.

"I'm glad for Johann." He starts cutting up the cheese and yes, a little fruit. Cut the savory just a little. "He's an asshole but he's not bad. We used to make baked goods for Florian in cabin in the morning."

That gets a light chuckle. "Right, I remember some of those. You got good at bread very quickly." He'll finish off the tea while John does that, an easy little ritual in sync beside him. Fucking domestic, and it never ceases to amuse him to see that with John.

It's amazing what can become the new normal. The tray is immaculately laid out. Just because it's for an afternoon chat and snack doesn't mean it's not going to look nice to eat from.

He adds a few vegetables as well.

"Bread is delicious. It's like a hug you can stuff into your mouth."

"Good bread is," he points out dryly, and he'll steal an apple piece before he picks up their mugs. "I've never had anything as good back home as you've been making here, you know."

That makes him blink and look over.

"Really? Never?"

Incredulous filters down into smug.

"Ha! I'm good, aren't I?"

He won't ruin John's fun by pointing out that between growing up on rations and the lacklustre range available in most bakeries that it wasn't much of a competition.

"Mmhm. You could start your own bakery someday. Probably get a pretty big name for yourself. Doe's Dough or, or something," he chuckles.

Those are still people doing it professionally, Arthur! Which raises another question and his eyes are very very big as he looks at Arthur.

"I mean... would that work?"

He glances up at John's surprise, but it settles into an easy grin.

"Well, why not? It's certainly more stable than detective work. And since you don't sleep you'll be ahead of the curve getting up early enough to bake."

He considers it.

"So... I would run a bakery and provide a steady income and you would have the detective agency. And together we could get somewhere nice."

A nod.

"I like that. It sounds... good."

Together.

A not-insignificant part of his mind can't grasp onto the image of it, of there being a future outside of the Barge. He knows that John brought back Parker and- and Faroe, but that's... something about the image of it all that he can't find himself fitting into.

They deserved to be happy.

He just hums in answer, and gives John a light elbow. "Shall we go sit down, then? Or do you want to see how high you can stack that plate?"

That earns him a grunt and a nod as he picks it up to carry the plate over to the table.

"I like trying the different combinations."

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