gurabad | 020 » just know that you won't have to do this alone

If they'll be exposed. It's warm enough to wear short sleeves if you like.

[Though most sleeves are a bit short on him regardless. Maybe he should take him shopping for clothes too? He seemed somewhat disheartened by his pajamas, and it's not like they won't have time. Ryan also gets a passive aggressive little thrill out of charging things to the company card, anyway. It's always a good idea to remind his employers that making him do things without properly asking is a bad idea.]

Maybe if you aren't tired afterward, we can get you some different clothes.

[short sleeves... it's been years since he last wore short sleeves. francel considers it, and then applies some sunscreen to his arms as well. might as well take advantage of the opportunities that's been offered to him, right?]

Oh! Would that be alright? I hardly mind what I'm currently wearing, but I would love to see what your formalwear looks like.

[...he's still wearing his pajamas, though. the drawstring has come loose since last night, but it's still sitting at his waist properly.]

Formal wear?

[So what, he wants to go shopping for suits? That's a waste of — no, that's actually a wonderful idea. Suits are expensive and he can write it off as "you were worried he was in a bad mood so I fixed it :)".]

All right, we'll get you a suit, [he says, suddenly smiling.] You'll need some practical clothes too though, so we'll have to make more than one stop.

[he's smiling?! what does that mean? why is ryan being nice all of a sudden? does ryan like formalwear?

the knock at their door suggests that room service has arrived in timely fashion with their breakfast, but francel doesn't move to answer it. instead, he's just kind of... stuck staring at ryan with slowly reddening cheeks.]

[What it means is that he's a vindictive, petty little shit, but it sure looks nice! Ryan rises to open the door and allow room service to set the table, still wearing that sunny expression. He'll settle down to eat as soon as they're done, crossing his legs so that he's not accidentally nudging his feet up against Francel while they sit.]

There aren't as many sweets with breakfast, but it's better that way. If your blood sugar crashed while we were out, it would be inconvenient.

[pink-cheeked, francel digs into his quiche with gusto, hoping that food will take his mind off the pleasant curve of ryan's lips. (what is this? what is going on? has he been away from ishgard for so long that even hyur are starting to look attractive now? what about his feelings for haurchefant and artoirel?!)]

My... blood sugar? Surely I have not eaten so much cake that I am now becoming cake, Ryan — whatever do you mean?

[Lifting his eyes from the quiche he was neatly cutting up, Ryan shoots Francel a look of disbelief. How can his world have airships and teleportation and be aware of the existence of parallel worlds and not understand the concept of blood sugar?]

When your stomach breaks down food, the nutrients are carried through your bloodstream to the rest of your body. Since sugar provides quick energy, if you gorge on food with too much simple sugar you'll have a spike of energy and then crash later. It's better to eat food with nutrients that don't break down so quickly if you're planning to be out for awhile. These eggs, for example — they're high in protein, which digests more slowly. Mix that with the carbohydrates in the crust and you have a meal that will keep you full and provide energy for longer.

[given that ishgardian doctors are still prescribing poisonous herbs to help with menstrual cramps? let's just say that medical technology is highly inconsistent in eorzea.]

Oh. I see. [francel says, in a way that suggests that he doesn't really see anything at all.]

...Not that I mind the idea of becoming cake.

Well, you can alter the taste of various bodily fluids by eating fruits.

[He won't go too into detail on it. Not because Ryan is above talking about urine at the dinner table, of course! No, it's because he doesn't want to talk about pineapples and semen. He takes a small nibble of the quiche, pleasantly surprised at it not having an overly heavy cheese taste.]

Hmm. It's not bad.

Not bad? It's delicious! One of the finest quiches I've ever had the pleasure of eating.

[then again, it's been ages since francel has eaten anything but the nutritionally balanced and utterly bland meals served to him courtesy of shamrock. he's absolutely savoring the taste of that cheese.]

We used to have such wonderful feasts around the Starlight Celebration. With roasted dodos, and decadent fish pastries, and fresh rolanberries imported from Mor Dhona...

[If he says so. Ryan's not big on food, so he can't really say one way or another. He picks up a piece of the sweet bread on the side and nibbles on that too, distractedly licking his fingers clean when he accidentally gets some frosting on them.]

Surely the whole world hasn't frozen over, though. If you have airships, you can import food from other regions. Ah, I suppose you have to focus on feeding your citizens rather than hosting parties...

[Well, good for them. Most nobility in Earth's history wouldn't have given a shit and would keep hosting their parties anyway.]

Only the most wealthy and frivolous would have airships fly in exotic delicacies. My House was far more responsible.

[it's fallen on hard times, too, but there's no point being honest about that. francel pauses in the middle of his chewing to stare at ryan licking his fingers.

like a cat...

ryan would look good with a miqo'te's soft ears, wouldn't he...]

[This time there's no convenient food delivery to keep Ryan from noticing he's being stared at. He misunderstands the meaning behind it, though.]

Sorry. That's a little distasteful, isn't it? I'm not going to touch any other food and I'll wash my hands afterward.

[He just wanted the one piece of sweetbread to go with his quiche, he won't contaminate the plate!]

[hastily:] N-No, that's — that's quite alright. I just — I mean, yes, that goes against all my etiquette lessons but — it does not bother me in the least. I —

[stammering awkwardly, francel dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin despite the fact that he doesn't have so much as a crumb on his lip.]

...Pray do not concern yourself.

[He should have just used the napkin, but with how sticky that frosting is Ryan just knows he would have ended up with cotton fibers sticking to his fingers. Despite Francel telling him to not worry about it he still feels a little embarrassed. For the most part Ryan doesn't care about etiquette, but when it comes to cleanliness he cares a lot!]

...well, all right then.

[So he can hurry up and wash his hands he starts to eat quicker.]

Would you say Elezen as a whole are generally responsible? We have old stories about a similar race known as "elves", but in most of them they're somewhat frivolous.

[relief washes over his comparatively large frame as francel pushes the thought of ryan's tongue out of his thoughts. he takes up another biteful of quiche.]

Frivolous? In what way?

[he doesn't wait for ryan to respond as he continues.]

I cannot speak for the Elezen that live in the woodlands of Gridania — I am told that petty infighting between the Duskwight and Wildwood races is still commonplace — but in Ishgard we hold no such prejudices.

There are many lesser nobles of — shall we say — "new money" heritage, and they can be deeply frivolous indeed... but as a whole, I think that my fellow Ishgardian Elezen are deeply responsible, patriotic, and loyal to their own.

I see. Elves in most of Earth's literature are typically preoccupied with appearances to the point of it being detrimental at times. They also have a deep association with nature and tend to be distrustful of outsiders.

[He shrugs, polishing off his quiche.]

Even if there were once elves on Earth that somehow teleported to another world, I don't think popular conception of them would be particularly accurate. Humans in those stories tend to be written as the heroes, after all. They're very biased.

Is that so? Many is the woman in Ishgard who will obsess over her appearance, but that holds true for Hyuran women as well, in my experience...

I suppose I am fond of nature — I have long harbored dreams of going to Gridania to see their famed greenery — but I think that is simply because my family crest bears the rose.

[francel, too, finishes off his quiche.]

And if you are asking about Ishgardian perceptions of Hyurs... they serve every bit as admirably in our armies as my Elezen brethren, and many Hyurs have attained rank and titles of lesser nobility. But the highest positions in Ishgard are filled by Elezen. There is a small minority of Hyurs who point to this as a sign of racial biases, but I disagree. It is merely a reflection of the fact that the Elezen race settled in Ishgard long before the Hyurs.

It's less racism and more nepotism, isn't it? The positions were held by elezen, so naturally they're passed on to elezen when the time comes. So long as people with the requisite talent are at least considered, I don't see a problem.

[Time to get ready to go. Ryan rises from the table.]

Perhaps I'll put some stories with elves on your tablet and you can give me your impressions. I'd be curious to hear if there are similarities.

[He heads into the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth, but he'll leave the door open so he can hear Francel's response.]

[Much to Ryan's relief, the next few days go quite smoothly. Yes, there's a bit of a bump in the road when he takes Francel shopping for clothes and has exactly zero opinions on what he's wearing so long as it fits properly, but things smooth over quickly enough when the salespeople praise him in Ryan's stead as soon as they figure out they can make a big sale.

Armed with experience from their first night, when they pass by a toy store Ryan marches right in and buys Francel a large stuffed rabbit toy. He won't say it's because the ears make him think of him, but it probably goes without saying. Given something to cuddle at night, Francel blessedly leaves Ryan in peace. Though really, it wasn't that awful having him close...

Their visit to the battle site later goes every bit as well as Ryan could have hoped. The site is rich in aether (as far as Earth is concerned at least, so it probably just feels about normal for Francel), and he manages to successfully store some in the crystals that they bought. He's fascinated by the ethereal light it glows with and almost wants to keep it for himself, but since he knows that he won't get any funding or equipment if he doesn't ship it off, Ryan does exactly that. Since he's in a good mood afterwards he even offers to take Francel out again, but the elezen seems curiously subdued.

The next morning, he finds out why. When Ryan awakens just past dawn the sound of Francel's breathing is strangely labored. At first he's horrified that he might be having a dirty dream or something even more embarrassing, but a few extra seconds of observation has him thinking he hears a crackling sound in there. Frowning, he scoots over and leans close to his face.]

Francel?

[he's been feeling ill ever since they visited the battle site.

at first francel thinks it's aether sickness, brought on because his body's grown accustomed to the low-aether environment — but no, it's something else. aether sickness only causes dizziness: it doesn't explain how hot he feels, his shortness of breath.

francel stirs when his name is called, but he doesn't open his eyes; he buries his face in his new stuffed rabbit, breathing shakily. even the prospect of being able to try on his nice new earthling clothes couldn't get him out of bed at this point.]

Mmnnnh. Ryan...? Leave me be.

[A sense of dread slowly creeps its way into him the moment he hears Francel's voice. There's a thick, scratchy sound to it that wouldn't come just from sleep. His mind races as he thinks back to Francel's file. They gave him immune boosters, surely? He's an alien! He's an alien, and Ryan just took him out places with tons of people and gave him a toy that countless little children might have had their sticky fingers over and oh God, he's sick. Swallowing hard he gently pushes the rabbit down enough to expose the elezen's forehead, then he brushes his hair out of the way and leans over to press his own against it.

Yes, he's definitely hot.]

You're ill.

[ryan's hand is deliciously cool. francel presses his forehead against it, more insistently, and presses the rabbit against his mouth.]

Nnngh.

[a very eloquent response.]

...have not been ill... in a long while. I didn't think — [that sentence ends in a cough. not a coughing fit, just a single cough, but the sound is scratchy enough that it's clear there's something quite wrong indeed.]

I didn't think either. I shouldn't have exposed you to so many potential pathogens.

[Cursing under his breath, he pulls away and rises from the bed to retrieve a tissue. He returns immediately and encourages Francel to look up at him by slipping a hand between him and the rabbit and cupping his chin. With his other hand, he holds the tissue out.]

Cough into this. If you can, try to cough up some mucous. I'll need to send it to be analyzed.

[If only he could just take him to the hospital... but no, he can't. He'll have to care for him on his own and pray it's nothing too severe. Ryan starts to make a shopping list in his head. Can he pay one of the hotel staff to go out and get everything he needs for him? He doesn't want to leave long enough to do it, and he wouldn't know where to go besides.]

[francel makes an effort and coughs twice, to no avail; his wheezing is dry and there's no particular mucus caught in his throat at the moment.

he shakes his head and pushes himself up off the bed (though he makes a point to tuck his rabbit into the covers, what an absolute baby).]

I'm going back to sleep...

[or so francel mumbles, to no one in particular. there aren't any beads of sweat rolling down his temple or anything, but the nape of the elezen's long neck is slick with faint moisture. he shuffles over to the bathroom and closes the door. the toilet flushes; the water runs for a good long while.

when francel emerges, he's pressing a wet towel against the back of his neck — but he's so out of it that he forgets about the pair of slippers cozied up against the door, and he promptly trips over them, landing on his knees.]

Oww....

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you gave me the thirst imagining spoiled dancer Fran anyway

GOOD

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