shake your bones out if you wanna ride

Mateo

Unaware of the ongoing discussions in his home region regarding his potential death, or the plans to strong-arm his best friend into taking a dunk in some healing hot springs, Mateo has done as he'd promised, and he's come to Torchline for an extended visit. One that has allowed him to set up base at his sister's house (it smells like sex and cinammon rolls in there and he's both impressed but also pointedly not asking) and raid her wardrobe for his own clothes. But you know what they say - you can take the boy out of the sex, drugs and booze, but you can't take the... the... yeah.

He's been at The Hanged Man since early afternoon, though given the perpetual state of twilight that shrouds the place, he's got no idea what time it is now. What he does know is that he's been careful to check the health of all of the plants - dangerous or otherwise - that he's installed there, and he's about five cocktails and two bumps of snapdragon into proceedings. It's making for an altogether great time, honestly; leaning against the bar in something that looks like it was an actual fishing net once upon a time and a pair of pale, faded denim jeans with enough holes in them that it no longer looks all that intentional, he aims a cheers to one of the waiters and smoothly knocks his shot back.

Let the night be long and chaotic.

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper sauntered into The Hanged Man with his usual languid grace, running a ring-laden hand through his hair; tonight, it's somewhere between starlight and shadow. He’d been planning on running a con or finding a mark for the evening, maybe even stirring up a little drama for his own amusement, but all that vanished when he caught a glimpse of the dark-haired stranger leaning against the bar. More importantly, he caught the stranger’s thoughts: a lush tangle of impressions that called to him like the promise of ripe fruit in an otherwise barren orchard.

The memory of how badly things had gone with Niki in the Greatwood still pricked at him, but this new mind felt like sweet relief, a garden of delights that had his mouth watering. So, Vesper’s step shifted, becoming smoother, almost predatory. Sidling up to the bar, he angled his body just enough to catch the botanist’s eye. A faint smirk ghosted across his lips, and he let his telepathy brush ever so lightly against the stranger’s vivid thoughts.

"Don’t think I’ve seen you around before," he drawled, voice low and velvety. "And I definitely would have remembered you." He let his gaze drift meaningfully over the fishing-net top and ragged jeans, before arching a brow and glancing at the empty shot glass. "Can I tempt you with another?"

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

Rolling his shoulders as if to let his body adjust and grow comfortable with this new level of inebriation, Mateo is more than used to subtle side eyes - and much more overt glances in his direction - such that he turns quite smoothly towards the tall stranger who has come to join him at the bar. The train of thought that has been wrapped in curiosity at the sight of the other man bursts into full bloom as he takes him in; a crackling haze of cupid's bow lips and constellations of freckles.

"Santo dio," he says, almost under his breath, the worst warped by his own dimpled smile. "You can tempt me with much more than that, amo." Grinning now, he straightens up properly and inclines his head as if in apology that they haven't run into each other before now. "My usual haunt is a little more skyward," he explains, gesturing to the ceiling and, presumably, the world beyond it and Stormbreak hovering far above.

"My sister convinced me to take a vacation down here in Torchline. So far I am not disappointed. Mateo," he says, adding his name with a brief curl of his fingers towards himself.

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper’s smirk deepened at the easy confidence with which Mateo returned his attention. The siren-song of the botanist’s thoughts flickered in the back of his own mind, making it tempting—so tempting—to delve deeper, but he kept his expression cool and unreadable. He wasn't as practiced as Jack was, but the young demigod had gotten a bit better about masking what he picked up from the minds of those around him. Still, there was a glint in his ice-blue gaze as he let a ringed fingertip trace lazy circles on the bar’s surface.

"Skyward, huh?" he murmured, tilting his head. "Stormbreak, I’m guessin'?" He made it sound almost like a question, but there was no real doubt. "Never been," he added, a casual shrug lifting his shoulders. “But if everyone up there looks like you, it might be worth the trip." A faint twist of a smile curved his lips as he straightened. "Vesper," he offered by way of introduction. Without waiting for a response, he flagged down a passing waiter, flicked his fingers in an airy gesture, and said, "Bring us a bottle," in a low purr that wasn’t quite a request. If Vesper was right, he and Mateo would be having more than just one drink together, and there was certainly no need to keep bothering the servers for refills.

"Sister, huh?" Snorting under his breath at that, a sparkle of some genuine emotion dusted itself across his blue eyes as he shook his head. "Yeah I got two of 'em. Most times it ain't even worth sayin' no, but...worse things than vacationin' down here."

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

Worry not, Vesper - Mateo, even at his most sober, is not the calculating or suspicious sort, and especially right now, the only thing the botanist really notices is the way the taller man's clothes seem to hug his body in all the right places, and the dance of his fingertip across the bar. "You would guess correctly," he says with a gracious nod of his head, and at the confession that he's never been, Mateo lets out an animated, longing sort of sigh. "It is like this, but everywhere, if you go to The Silk Houses." he laments; this being the chaos and inebriation of the Hanged Man.

"Piacere," he murmurs in response to Vesper's name - that's nice to meet you to the telepaths in the room. The request for a bottle does not go ignored either, Mateo grinning and hooking a leg around a barstool to sit, gesturing for Vesper to do the same. He's got a feeling they might need the extra support at this rate.

"Ah, a fellow brother in arms," he says with an exaggerated sigh. "You are right though, of course. It helps as well that my sister happens to own this bar, so I can enjoy myself to my heart's content."

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper watched as Mateo slid onto a barstool, his easy grace and animated gestures oddly captivating. His smirk remained faint but present, curling just enough to reveal his interest without over-committing. "The Silk Houses, huh?" he echoed, rolling the name around his tongue like a fine vintage. "You’ll have to give me a tour sometime." The implication in his tone was subtle but deliberate, like a hook dropped just deep enough to test the waters.

He didn’t immediately take the offered barstool, letting Mateo settle first before sinking down with deliberate slowness. That this was Flora's brother had the demigod's brows raising slightly. A better man (and son) might have cried the botanist's pardon and wished him a good evening right there, but of course, Vesper was neither of those things. "Guess that means we ain't got to feel guilty about drinkin' their finest while payin' for their cheapest then, huh?" Vesper's drawl was intentionally course, with his dropping of syllables and consonants meant to disguise anything his expressions might inadvertently reveal about his telepathic abilities.

The bottle arrived as if summoned by his words, and Vesper accepted it with a nod, pouring them both a glass before sliding one toward Mateo. "Here’s to vacations," he said, raising his drink in an unhurried toast. His gaze lingered on the other man’s for a moment longer than necessary before he took a sip, the warmth of the liquor a distant echo to the buzz already humming through his veins. "And to sisters who’ve mastered the art of convincing us to say yes."

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

"Mm. Named so for the silks that flutter from the windows of the finest brothel in the district," Mateo confirms with a lascivious wink - he has no idea if that's true, of course, or if Molly's merely took the name of the Silk Houses and ran with it (more likely) - but it makes for a good hook. "It would be my pleasure - and yours - to give you a tour," he assures him with a dimpled smile that doesn't take away from the flirtatious gleam in his eyes.

Pleased to see the other man eventually join him on a barstool, Mateo lets out a musical laugh at the (very good) point he makes. "I will drink to that," he agrees; not that he thinks Flora would much care when it came to the vacation she'd invited him on. The botanist turns with the arrival of the bottle, offering a polite nod to the waiter and turning to pour them both a measure only to find Vesper beating him to the punch.

"To vacations, and the sisters we could not live without," he agrees with a playful wink; even if they can't say no to them, that's almost the point, isn't it? Clinking his glass against Vesper's Mateo brings it to his lips and drinks deeply and approvingly. "You have good taste," he says. "I take you are from around here?"

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper caught the flirtatious gleam in Mateo’s eye and let himself lean into it, an almost lazy confidence rolling off him. In truth, he was already dipping into the botanist’s surface thoughts, gleaning fleeting images; flickers of silk-draped windows and the soft glow of lamplight, a swirl of colour and promises half-whispered in the hush of Stormbreak’s more decadent corners. The mental snapshot curved Vesper’s lips into a subtle smirk, one he quickly disguised by tipping his glass to his mouth. "Is that so?" The question was as smooth as the liquor warming his throat, and as he watched Mateo over the rim of his glass, his ice-blue gaze lingered just long enough to suggest he was very interested in accepting that tour.

The demigod set the glass down and angled himself more fully toward the other man, one elbow propped on the bar. "Are you the eldest? I'm definitely pickin' up big brother vibes," he teased, flicking an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. "I’ve got two sisters— we're triplets, actually." The corner of his mouth hitched in a half-smile. "Even though we’re the same age, I tend to feel like the older one. Not sure if that says more about me or them." He shrugged, the movement rolling easily through his shoulders.

"Mm? Sure am." Nodding, Vesper gestured broadly in a way that could mean Torchline, or the ocean, or somewhere far beyond. Sometimes letting people glimpse a fragment of his celestial origins sparked intrigue; sometimes it only raised more questions. Then again, had he known he was seated across from a man whose birth had been heralded not by stars but by dreams, he might have been a bit more forthcoming.

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

"It most certainly is so," Mateo confirms with abundant confidence of his own; he's no telepath, but the handsome young man at his side is matching his game of kiss-chase round for round, and so he's quite invested in where the conversation - and the night - might lead. Adjusting himself subtly enough so that they are very much having a conversation rather than simply lingering and chatting at the bar, the botanist shrugs his shoulders as if to admit to the guilt of being the older brother.

"We barely look it, but there was a time when I was a proper older brother to her, yes," he confirms. "You never really get out of that mentality, I suppose. Triplets, though? I bet your sisters keep you busy." And - so sue him, Vesper - if they look even half as good as the man before him, he could probably keep all of them busy for a time, too.

Taking the other man's confirmation as his being from Torchline specifically, Mateo takes another sip of his drink and tilts his glass towards him in a mini toast. "If I had known that this was what I was missing up in Stormbreak, I might have decided to come for a visit much sooner."

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper leans in, and his senses flood with the faint smell of herbs and flowers lingering on Mateo; botanicals that seem woven into the very fabric of the man. Beneath that, there’s a sharper, more illicit note—some drug whose aftershocks still cling to his clothes and swirl through his thoughts in a way that has the demigod's tongue going a touch dry. Vesper can feel it mirrored in the botanist’s mind, a heady pulse of colour and sensation brushing against his telepathic reach. "Mind if I share a secret?" He asks in a low murmur, voice dropping into a conspiratorial hush as he leans in closer. "I think it might just be my daddy that's got your sister's heart all tangled up in his fingers." Daddy is said somewhat like a slur, though Vesper's blue eyes remain clear and bright. 

Depending on just what part of him the botanist was most paying attention to, Mateo might notice that the demigod's freckles had a tendency to wander over his golden skin, forming constellations that moved across the sky of his body.

With a smug tilt of his chin, Vesper pours them both another glass, watching the liquor swirl beneath the bar’s dim light. [says]"You’re welcome," he purrs, raising his drink in a playful toast. "Glad it could be me who opened your eyes to what Torchline has to offer." His gaze lingers on the botanist’s for a beat longer than necessary, mischief dancing behind his ice-blue eyes. "Begs the question though," he continues, resting an elbow on the bar as if to draw Mateo closer, "—what is it about Stormbreak that keeps you up there so long? I know it ain't the weather."

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

Welcoming the other man closer as he leans in, Mateo's posture remains as open and relaxed as ever, his thoughts pulsing and dancing with what ifs and maybes made all the more vibrant by the crimson sparks of snapdragon still crackling though his veins. "A secret?" he echoes, his accent wrapping around the word, his mind unfurling like a late-blooming bud with curiosity and interest. And whilst Mateo is much more used to hearing the term daddy as an illicit moan than a slur, his eyebrows do raise, cheeks dimpling with a wicked smile.

"Your papa is my sister's good captain?" Tilting his head - and he can see the resemblance now if he looks hard enough, able to attribute Vesper's handsome face to good genes rather than sheer dumb luck - he lets out a musical laugh and willingly offers his glass for a refill. And whilst he does think the spray of freckles on the demigod's nose have moved a little since he first glanced at them, Mateo is happy to put that down to booze and drugs; he can't be certain enough to question it, either way.

And so, taking a fresh sip of his drink and setting the glass down right beside Vesper's, he's barely on his barstool any more as he leans in closer still. At the other man's question, he can't help but respond, first and foremost, with a soft breath of laughter, and even as he considers his response, his mind fills with Stormbreak's winding, cobbled streets, the scents of flowers and honey and spices, the sound of laughter and soft conversation in a variety of accents and dialects.

"It is almost like Torchline," he says slowly, the landscape of his thoughts turning to silk and music, to frosty, silent mornings and giggling on street corners at the dead of night, "...except it feels older, I suppose you might say? Torchline is a party. Stormbreak is a banquet. Does that make sense?"

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper lets a low chuckle roll through him, a spark of amusement lighting his blue eyes. "Mmmm, he is indeed," he confirms as if saying it aloud cements some kind of mildly absurd truth. "Not that either of us should be held accountable for that fact," he adds quickly; smirking crookedly, the demigod shrugs, hinting that he’s long since stopped trying to justify (or apologize for) his parentage.

Leaning in, he subtly shifts his posture until his longer legs rest along the bottom edge of Mateo’s barstool, angling himself so that the botanist ends up just shy of nestled between his thighs. Presumably just in case the botanist were to find himself suddenly unbalanced. There’s an unmistakable invitation in the way Vesper’s gaze flicks over Mateo’s features, though, one he only vaguely tries to hide before picking up his glass and knocking it smoothly back.

"Stormbreak’s a banquet, huh?" he drawls, one brow quirking. "A banquet sounds…" He pauses, weighing the word with a lazy tilt of his head. "Formal. Plenty of opportunities to slip away for something more interestin', I guess." Really it all sounded like a lot of wasted food and folks with their noses in the air, but he didn't want his new friend to think he wasn't absolutely keen on taking him up on his offer for a tour.

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //

Mateo

"Of course not. One cannot choose their parents, alas," Mateo says with a roll of his wrist that, like it or not, is a very Remi gesture to make. "Thankfully we can choose how much we want to let them interfere with us. So long as your daddy is good to my sister, though, I could not care less. She has been through enough hardship for ten lifetimes." And he'll not see her go through any more if he can help it, much as he might be unable to help compared to some people.

Whether Mateo finds himself unbalanced or not, he decides he could spend a very happy few hours between Vesper's thighs - or anywhere else he wants him for that matter. "Formal on the outside. Very messy when you look too close," he agrees with a crooked smile. Internal politics, gossip, drugs and sex in store cupboards - illicit indulgence is absolutely the flavour of Stormbreak that Mateo prefers.

"But yes," he adds. "No shortage of interesting places to get lost." Following suit and knocking his next drink back, Mateo gestures around the bar. "I have only seen this place in detail since I got here," he says. "Anywhere else you can recommend?"

I'm a scholar and a gentleman
And I don't usually fall when I try to stand

// I got this feeling, yeah, you know where I'm losing all control //

Vesper hums low in his throat, tipping his glass just enough to watch the final amber dregs make lazy patterns along the glass. "Good and Jack don’t exactly belong in the same sentence," he murmurs, voice edged with dry amusement that likely sounds a good deal like the captain in question. "But she seems happy enough. And given he actually died for her not too long ago, I figure it all balances out." His smirk lingers as he sets his empty glass down, tapping a ringed finger lazily against the bar. "Not that I’d go around puttin’ him up for sainthood."

Mateo’s take on Stormbreak makes Vesper huff a quiet laugh, the edges of his sharp grin sharpening even further, though the question of recommendations pulls a thoughtful hum from him, before Vesper leans in a little closer, feigning regret. "I’d suggest my place, but chances are, my sisters’d have the whole damn house glitter-bombed the second we walked through the door." His smirk turns devilish. "And while I’m sure you’d look very pretty covered in stardust, I ain’t too keen on spendin’ the rest of the night pickin’ sequins outta places they don’t belong."

The demigod drums his fingers idly against the bar. "Could always take you to one of the brothels 'round here," he muses, letting the words roll slow and lazy off his tongue. "The Halenani's got some of the same enchantments as that one in King’s End. Real easy to lose yourself there—just gotta decide whether you’d rather be lost with someone or in someone." His smirk is all sharp edges as he pours them both another few fingers from the bottle.

But for all his teasing, he leans back slightly, letting the flirtation settle into something smoother, something less immediate. "If you ain’t got plans in the mornin’, though, I’ve got a different idea." He knocks his knuckles against his glass, lips quirking. "Miana Pool. Ever been?"

Vesper

//Go ahead and throw your stones, 'cause there's magic in my bones //