Entry tags:
083 » keep it together but i'm falling apart
[the journey is a little more pleasure than business, though as always, it's a little of both.
kanon no longer flies on britannian warships, but he buys his ticket to france first-class, with his own money, on his own time. he hasn't booked a hotel. the maldini family has long owned a villa in france which has been made ready for his use; emperor lelouch may have abolished the britannian monarchy, reformed its excesses of power and wealth, but he spared the nobility a sweeping confiscation of private property, and kanon isn't above making good use of what he has left. after a night's rest, it is a short drive from his villa to the small town outside of jeremiah gottwald's orange farm. kanon has made reservations at the only good restaurant to be found there; seated at the window, he waits, staring out of the rain-stained windows to the quaint cottages beyond.
he's surprised, still, that jeremiah agreed to meet him. it was one thing when he arranged for him and anya to be deployed on the mission to rescue nunnally; it's another thing to reach out under the entirely false pretense of wanting to catch up. obviously, that's not exactly what kanon is after; he thought it was obvious, too, that his intentions were not entirely pure. he half-expected to be rejected. and yet...
jeremiah gottwald walks into the little bistro at 2:35, exactly on time, supposing that on time is fashionably late by 5 minutes.
well, that's just the nature of adulthood. unbothered, kanon smiles. he waves from his seat by the window. he's underdressed by his standards, in a button-down shirt and slacks; he thinks he should have underdressed still further, as his cufflinks and watch mark him too plainly as an outsider, but his too-feminine good looks would have made him stand out regardless of how he was dressed. it doesn't matter now.]
Hello again, Jeremiah.
[the undersecretary greets jeremiah as readily as he would greet an old friend, though it's been years since they attended the imperial colchester institute, and kanon didn't speak to jeremiah very much then, anyway.]
Come, have a seat. Do you drink?
kanon no longer flies on britannian warships, but he buys his ticket to france first-class, with his own money, on his own time. he hasn't booked a hotel. the maldini family has long owned a villa in france which has been made ready for his use; emperor lelouch may have abolished the britannian monarchy, reformed its excesses of power and wealth, but he spared the nobility a sweeping confiscation of private property, and kanon isn't above making good use of what he has left. after a night's rest, it is a short drive from his villa to the small town outside of jeremiah gottwald's orange farm. kanon has made reservations at the only good restaurant to be found there; seated at the window, he waits, staring out of the rain-stained windows to the quaint cottages beyond.
he's surprised, still, that jeremiah agreed to meet him. it was one thing when he arranged for him and anya to be deployed on the mission to rescue nunnally; it's another thing to reach out under the entirely false pretense of wanting to catch up. obviously, that's not exactly what kanon is after; he thought it was obvious, too, that his intentions were not entirely pure. he half-expected to be rejected. and yet...
jeremiah gottwald walks into the little bistro at 2:35, exactly on time, supposing that on time is fashionably late by 5 minutes.
well, that's just the nature of adulthood. unbothered, kanon smiles. he waves from his seat by the window. he's underdressed by his standards, in a button-down shirt and slacks; he thinks he should have underdressed still further, as his cufflinks and watch mark him too plainly as an outsider, but his too-feminine good looks would have made him stand out regardless of how he was dressed. it doesn't matter now.]
Hello again, Jeremiah.
[the undersecretary greets jeremiah as readily as he would greet an old friend, though it's been years since they attended the imperial colchester institute, and kanon didn't speak to jeremiah very much then, anyway.]
Come, have a seat. Do you drink?

no subject
He would be, if he were in the other man's shoes, serving under a prince whose aspirations were no longer his own.
But he's still himself, and he sometimes misses the galas and high rise lounges and an urban nightlife; an opportunity to entertain in any capacity is not one he'd often turn down. Jeremiah himself isn't dressed any more elegantly, though his mask, white gloves, and the piping on the jacket folded over his arm make him stand out as well. The townsfolk everywhere he frequents have gotten mostly used to it, on the days he isn't still dressed in work boots and denim.]
It's good to see you again, Kanon. ["Lord Maldini" still hovers on his tongue, but that's not their world anymore. He's not lying, either, internal conflicts being what they are. The other man's inquiry may help endear him off the bat, too.] I most certainly do.
sorry for slow! work's been a killer
[there are several layers of polite falsehoods to this. first of all, the waiter — while young, and probably the owner's grandchild judging by the typical dynamics in a small town — was not especially charming and instead had simply asked in a bored tone whether or not kanon wanted something to drink while he waited; second of all, kanon is not really the kind of man who is charmed into doing anything, and is more typically the kind of man who charms others into doing things for him. but that's neither here nor there. these aren't lies so much as they are pleasant things to say.
smiling, kanon picks a bit of invisible dust off the edge of his serviette, eyes flicking over the contrast between jeremiah's white gloves and the handsome tan upon his wrists.]
Are you and Anya doing well?
oof, no worries, I'm right there with you
Funny, when he'd picked this region to move to, he'd been thinking about the climate for sweet citrus more than access to wines he'd likely been unable to try otherwise, but it's been a wonderful perk.]
Quite well, thank you. The farm keeps us occupied, but it's been good to us thus far. [Setting his jacket aside, Jeremiah settles properly into his seat, pouring himself a glass of water from the decanter on the table, then reaching to top Kanon's off before setting it back down.] And yourself?
no subject
Oh, can't complain. For one thing, I'm still alive.
[there is a comedic timing to the way he smirks, winks, lifts his glass of wine, and promptly takes a triumphant swig of it. it's not quite a toast, not really — more like a morbid joke. he really had been prepared to die with schneizel on board the damocles. it remains... not surprising, exactly, but impressive that lelouch spared the both of them. as far as kanon is concerned, the young prince was well within his rights to have him and schneizel executed, but then of course they were both of more value to britannia alive than dead.
he crosses his legs and smiles at jeremiah, looking almost innocent.]
I don't really believe that I should be alive, if I'm being honest. But I remain by Schneizel's side, and so I am happy. More or less.
no subject
It's that face of his, the easy lilt to his voice, honed into a fine weapon to be exacting and swift when his words twist like that. Jeremiah's well and familiar with the approach, but he'd do well not to underestimate it from someone he doesn't know too well. This isn't still the boy he was acquainted with in school, after all.]
Sometimes those concessions are enough, even if they only seem small. [A little cruel for him to reinforce, given the will exerted over the two of them is one Jeremiah must maintain by proxy. He does, however, know a few things about survival and desperation, at the cost of pride, sometimes integrity. Pouring a glass for himself--not excessive but not too modest, either--Jeremiah raises his drink.]
Come now, it's bad form to drink alone. Shall we toast to anything?
[Jokes don't count in his book, clearly.]
no subject
on kanon's end, his blue eyes are still sizing up jeremiah, as if the man's fine dark hair and tanned skin make him a prize to be claimed, or a treat to be devoured. it might be mistaken for interest if not for the fact that his interest in schneizel has always been rather clearly stated.
the aide only quirks a brow.]
What would you like to toast to?
[it's a question that suggests kanon would be perfectly fine with toasting to anything. flexible, perhaps. or else indifferent. maybe only shrewd.]
Peace, perhaps? The new world order?
no subject
He's also not clueless to what has been made known about them, or more specifically what Kanon's made known, absorbed as he used to get in gossip when his life's concerns sat at a much more frivolous place. The glint to his subtly roving eyes is unexpected, and it's only then that Jeremiah feels sure he can place it. It's nothing more than that, an expression he's wearing on his face, but one he can't mask observing now that his mind made the tenuous connection.
Recognition is in his eye one second and gone the next as he slips back into mulling his options over. He tries a softer, more trite version. Kanon may have motives for being here after all, but Jeremiah never saw that as a reason to sour whatever conversation they busy themselves with.]
How about to new beginnings?
no subject
To new beginnings!
[he closes his eyes and drinks. this is familiar, he thinks, and intoxicating in its familiarity. so much of the world has changed. they once had titles that now are lost; they were allies once and enemies of a kind later. and despite all this, nothing stands in their way now to enjoy drinking with each other, and uniting to combat shared adversaries on occasion.
that being said... perhaps it is time to dispense with the pleasantries, the circling around, the asking of how young anya is doing. perhaps kanon should get to business. he sets his glass on the table, smile unwavering.]
I... thought I should ask you, Jeremiah, and perhaps now is not the time to ask it, but... How much did you know of Lelouch's Zero Requiem before it was played?