amicably_absent | The Ball. And Doom.

The Ball. And Doom.

For some reason, while Cain was stolen by Ahamo, Jeb and Tutor to get ready for the ball, while Glitch found himself hurried off by Raw, DG and Azkadellia.

The girls had clearly been scheming for a while, because there was beauticians ready, girls with steam things and hot things and clothes and al kinds of things that Glitch was sure he hadn't to go through to get ready for balls before.

Raw was stripped out of his furs and washed, doing a remarkable impersonation of a cat getting a bath with the yowling and complaining and eventual compliance with pouting. He cheered up when they got to blow drying and brushing through, his wild fur and hair neatened and brushed out and settled. Glitch insisted they weave ribbons through it, bows that Azkadellia clearly didn't entirely approve of and made DG pull that face that said she was laughing inside but wouldn't hurt feelings by saying it. Glitch thought it was cute, especially was Kalm was given the same treatment.

Then the mirrors were taken away and he was set upon by the ravenous hoards. Combs and brushes pulled at his hair past yells from DG telling them to mind the zipper. His face was scrubbed with some sweet smelling, rough stuff while his nails were buffed and filed and cleaned. Steam blasted over his scalp and oil that smelt like satusma was carefully worked through it to 'give it definition', whatever that meant.

The girls were being done at the same time. Azkadellia was quiet and elegant. DG complained and yelped as her hair was curled and pinned up, her make up up expertly applied. Glitch stopped questioning after a while when they descended on him with brushes until he was whisked away by a team of dressers, away from the girls and into a side area to be put in a suit.

He didn't mind the tight fitting, long sleeved under shirt. He dealt with the formal pants and thin piping on them and the polished black shoes. He didn't even grumble at the shirt that was done up att the way, professional and proper and not at all how he usually wore them.

The coat caused a stink. It was heavy, with small hooks instead of buttons and a deep wide swing and beautiful trim like he thought his old coat might have had before his head casing. It was a rich colour and lined with rich silk.

And it had medals. And that was the problem. He had no idea what they were for, but he was assured they were his and he had to wear them because Her Majesty had asked him to.

Which is why he's dressed up so fine, with shining medals and just enough make up to accentuate his features and his hair in disarray, with loose curls and gleaming zip, because he's used his fingers to undo the neat work the hairdressers did hiding his zipper with Ambrose's old side part.

And he was dragged in there to be there with the Royal family. So naturally, he's lurking near the corner of the Royal Dais, exchanging looks with DG and hoping Cain turns up soon so he has someone to talk to against his wall.

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And Wyatt steps in with something more approaching a wry grin. "Preference doesn't really enter into it," he says, as they start to dance.

"I'm better at leading, but only because I've followed just once in my entire life. Now I can say I like both, if I'm with the right partner."

"I like either. But you're so broad shouldered and strong, it makes me feel like following your lead," he says, just a hint of teasing flirt in his voice, not looking at Wyatt.

He starts, following the music in his mind.

"Cheeky. I like that." He grins, pulling Ambrose close, and leaning his cheek to his temple. They're not really that much apart, height-wise. They're just right.

"I can see why you'd like it out here. It's nice and quiet, the sky's clear and the air is fresh. It's beautiful."

Ambrose colours a bit more, stepping with Cain, pressed close and holding him for the dance. "It's peaceful and open. And the darkness takes the edge of prying eyes and dark circles."

"It does," he agrees. "Dark circles?"

Ambrose hums, coat swinging behind him. "Under the eyes."

Right, he says to himself. "Of course," he says to Ambrose, hushed in the quiet and the moonlight.

"But what does it matter if people look? You're a handsome guy, and tonight you're stunning, if you don't mind my being frank. Of course people will want to look at you. Let them."

He gives that same smile, squeezing Wyatt's hand. "Thank you."

He keeps dancing. He doesn't explain why he doesn't like it, why they usually stare with him. People stare because of who he is, the odd adviser, the quiet one with the funny face.

"I think perhaps you are biased."

"Oh, there's no perhaps about it," he agrees, his voice warm and friendly. "I am biased. I'm in love with a man who looks almost exactly like you.

"But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

If Cain wanted a small giggle, it's what he gets, Ambrose letting go with one hand to hide the smile. "You're trying to make me blush, aren't you?"

"Not intentionally, no. And don't do that, you have a nice smile, no need to hide it."

He shrugs, slowing down a bit. "I'm trying to jostle you out of your old habits. Just for a moment, to maybe see things from my perspective. You have my utmost respect, Ambrose, and I'd like very much to be your friend. Friends tend to want the best for each other, right?"

"Of course they do." He always wanted the best for Anoria and the girls. "You have my utmost respect as well, Wyatt. I care very deeply about you, and Glitch."

"Then that makes it mutual."

He isn't sure what else to say or do right now. Maybe it will come to him, soon enough.

Ambrose goes quiet again, stepping away from Cain. He knew he'd say too much.

Then he smiles, slightly befuddled. "You look too somber for a party, Tin man."

"Hey, there." He pulls Glitch in for a hug. "I think I scared Ambrose away. Or something, I don't know, exactly."

"Oh?" He snuggles in, tipping Wyatt's head up for a soft kiss. "What happened? I can't..." he frowns. "I think he's stopping me from knowing."

"He didn't like the crowds, I went looking and found him out here." He shrugs, unconsciously mirroring the frown. "I don't know what he'd be keeping from you."

Glitch sighs. "Come on, cowboy. Let's head back in, find some food... oh, I could so go corn right now, a nice, fresh ear of corn with lots of butter..."

It would probably be a very bad idea to steal a nip at Glitch's earlobe right about now, but ever since their most recent chat about cowboys, he's been having a difficult time associating them with anything other than riding.

And that's not the best thing to be thinking about at a fancy ball.

"I could go for another drink and something to eat, yes." He offers his arm, out of fond habit.

Glitch takes Wyatt's arm, looking somewhat smug and cheeky. "You know the other great thing about these big, thick, heavy coats?"

He waits until they're nearly inside. Then bites Cain's earlobe. "They hide all kind of inconvenient things. Cowboy."

Of all the times two minds should not have thought alike, this has got to top the list. Wyatt goes bright red from the neck down and blotched in the face.

"Glitch," hisses through his teeth, urgent and exasperated, because dammit, he does not need to be sporting anything under his coat. "Damn you!"

Glitch giggles and steals another kiss. "I'm going to go and find Raw and dig out what Ambrose is all embarrassed about." One more kiss. "I won't be long!"

He sighs, resigning himself to a life full of surprises both good and really, really awkward. "I hope it wasn't something I said."

He'll hover near the refreshments, get himself a drink, hope to all the gods no one wants a dance before he stops thinking about cowboy hats and Glitch.

Glitch grabs Raw, whispering that Ambrose is hiding something and dragging Raw off with a grin at Kalm and Jeb.

They get back to the workshop, Glitch taking a steadying breath and relaxing as Raw's hand touches his face.

It's almost instant now, feeling Raw slipping through his mind, familiar and almost worn in, then the sharp, ecstatic awakening of senses, of memories, of thoughts. Everything coming to life and making him sharp.

And he can think. And he can remember. And the surge of painful awareness, the flickers from Raw, the hints from Jeb, the words that Ambrose tried so hard to hide form him..

Raw jerks away from him. Glitch stares at him, wide eyed.

Raw runs. He runs until he gets back to the dance and hides with DG so Glitch can't yell at him.

Glitch comes back slower, steadying himself, fragments of wholeness flickering through him because of the abruptness of Raw's pull back.

Meanwhile, Jeb and Kalm make their way over to Wyatt and all three of them decide to have something to snack on. Kalm climbs up and settles on Wyatt's shoulders, seeing as he's both taller and broader than both Raw and Jeb, and all the better for watching people from above. He steals little sticks of cheese and meat from Jeb's plate every now and then, zipping down and then back up, pretending as if it's raining. Some of the women nearby make small cooing noises in their throats at the cute display, but Kalm pays them no mind. Not much anyways, but they're no threat, and they seem to like just standing there, watching.

But the moment Raw comes scurrying inside, skirting the edge of the dance floor to get to DG, Kalm tenses up, jumps down and runs after him.

Father and son exchange looks and frowns. "You go find Glitch, I'll see what's up with Raw."

They part ways, each of them as determined, both of them worried in their own way.

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