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[stonecoldtop]

"George speaking, how may I help you?"

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[spaghettification]

"Noble or not, I'll still give you just as much respect as you deserve." That's said playfully, with an almost impish look on his face, because what George deserves is something dear and warm and informal, at least until they discuss other forms of respect. "I know it doesn't need to be said, but I like you better."

[stonecoldtop]

"Will you just?" George laughs, an eyebrow raising to the impish look. Testing and teasing, "And how much is that?"

He doesn't care what people think of him anymore, except for all the ways he does. He taps the base of his wine glass. Once. Twice. "It might have been a little needed. Thank you."

[spaghettification]

“Anytime you need to hear it.” Siebren nods. “I rarely mind repeating myself.”

[stonecoldtop]

George doesn't blush, but he feels like he ought to. Why does he feel like he ought to?

"I'll keep that in mind." He hesitates a moment, he doesn't like to keep forging ahead while he's on unsure footing, "I believe you said there was someone from your past at the visitor's centre too?"

Because that's certain to be safer ground.

[spaghettification]

“Ah. Yes, there is. My minder, I suppose you could call her.”

‘Keeper’ would be as accurate, as well.

[stonecoldtop]

"Minder," he repeats softly, he can put together the dots as to when the 'minding' might have been, "Not a friendly face then, I take it? You needn't tell me anything if you do not wish to."

[spaghettification]

“She has been refusing to refer to me by name, I hear. Only using my subject designation from when I was under her study. No, we are not friends. I will not be visiting her.”

[stonecoldtop]

"You deserve far better than that, Siebren." George says his name as if it's something sacred, not fragile but so important.

Were he someone else, George might offer to exact revenge on Siebren's behalf, but he's not. Instead he reaches his hand across the table, palm up, an offer of comfort for Siebren to accept or not as he desires.

[spaghettification]

It’s good. Others have offered to get their revenge, already, but what Siebren needs more now is support. An anchor for his hot-air balloon self to tether to, for a moment or for more. He settles his hand atop George’s gingerly.

“Deserving is a lie. The world doesn’t keep a tally of what is owed, as much as the gambler’s fallacy insists otherwise.”

[stonecoldtop]

George squeezes Siebren's hand gently, he can be a grounding force, that much he knows will do gladly.

"I'd say one can deserve without being owed, but perhaps it's not the right word either way."

[spaghettification]

“I want more than that. Regardless of anything like deserving. And I am slowly figuring out how to…” a pause, as he realizes how fucking new age the next words that we’re going to come out of his mouth were. …manifest my desire, really, what is he? Some sort of almond mom?

[stonecoldtop]

George doesn't precisely know how that sentence was supposed to end, but he can make a guess at the shape of it. The scent of leather conditioner that always hangs over him grows a little stronger as his Mantle swells for Spring of it.

"That's very important work," he says, and he means it, "What do you want?"

[spaghettification]

“To live. To build a life that recognizes the aftermath of my pain, without revolving around it. To walk forward and try new things, even things I feel fear or trepidation about. To build bonds with people who I choose to trust, not just who I am forced to obey.”

Is any of this really news? No, not as such. But something in it feels powerful to say aloud.

[stonecoldtop]

"All wonderful things to want, " George says warmly, "I'm honoured that you trust me enough to share them. I hope you'll tell me if I can help in the pursuit."

[spaghettification]

"You already are helping, and I think you know that." Siebren lets out a bit of a warm laugh. "You've been kind to me in a way I had grown not to expect."