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[He only remains silent until she speaks again and...

...There's a slight shift of discomfort, but they're both adults and he needs to act like one.]

...No, I did not.

[Which is to admit the truth, even if it also reveals the truth that he had also been avoiding her. Though given she was the same, then there's no real fault.

...Still.]

But it's about time we did.

[She figured as much and had done the same, so no surprises on her end, either.

Ilsa is silent for a moment, watching as Valo looks between the two of them with eyes wide with confusion, before she huffs out her umpteenth sigh since Eustace appeared on her street.]

I know. [She can at least admit that much, but whether she was ready to do it or not, that's a different matter. Folding her arms, she leans against the counter.] I owe you an apology.

[First and foremost, and though it is difficult for her to admit...]

It was me who initiated everything.

[He knew she would apologize first, so there's something of a sigh as he briefly closes his eyes.]

Even so, I was fully aware of the situation and should have pushed harder to stop it from escalating. So I also I owe you an apology.

[He is not going to let her take all the blame, just like she wouldn't let him do the same. It takes two people, and if anything he feels a bit more responsible given that he had been more sober and aware of her identity at first. That said he also knows that she will still feel responsible so he won't try and push it. Just take responsibility for his own actions.]

Edited 2023-04-27 15:01 (UTC)

[They could go around in circles forever, apologizing to each other and trying to shoulder the blame, but Ilsa isn't about that. They can both take responsibility here and she won't fight him on it, even if she does think that a lot of it had been her own fault from the get-go. After she had sobered up, she realized how demanding she had been, how forceful, and even if Eustace had tried to stop it before it got anywhere, she does pause to wonder...

... Would she have listened?

She doesn't say as much, however, because that would only put them back into that self-blame loop she doesn't want to fall into, so time to look at the now and the future, rather than what can no longer be changed.

Now that the apologies are out of the way...

Her gaze finally lands on his, and a question burns on the tip of her tongue. One that she's been working through in her head to find an answer, but of course... without him, she couldn't.]

How long did you know that it was me?

[In many ways he's glad they don't argue who was more responsible, so he won't say anything more on it. And while he knew she would ask the question, it still makes him have to think back to what happened.]

It was fairly early... Around the time you started pushing for the dance, and were...

...

[Things were a little fuzzy thanks to what happened after, but he does remember how she was touching and feeling him up. Back then it had been so incredibly awkward and weird, but then once they were basically in heat, her touch was all he wanted.

So just an awkward clearing of his throat so they can just KEEP MOVING AND NOT DWELL IN CERTAIN THINGS.]

It was your earrings.

[And her scent, but mostly the flowers.]

My earrings...?

[Shocked a little by the revelation, her hands instinctively reach up to squeeze at her earrings. What an odd thing to pick up on, especially given that she didn't recognize him at all because of the mask enchantment. How drunk had she been by the time they ran into each other...!?

There's no hiding the way a deeper colour settles deeper into her cheekbones at the thought. He'd brought up her earrings before, but she never realized that it was such a notable feature... or one that he saw as such.]

...

And so you just let me do what I wanted. [While her tone does remain sharp, it isn't entirely directed at him. It's not like he was responsible for her, so there's no blame there. But now for her next burning question:] Why didn't you say anything when you figured it out?

[Why did he just keep dancing with her and put up with what she would call very aggressive and uncharacteristic flirting?]

[He notices her flush, but he tries not to think too much of it. Back then it really didn't seem to mean much that he noticed her earrings. Surely it's a notable feature? But now he's second guessing everything he's ever thought about her, wondering if there wasn't something else that he just never realized. Of course, would be even know or understand now?

At her question... He's silent for a moment as he also questioned why he let it continue.]

I did try to stop you and tell you... But then I thought that... [A small hesitation.]

...That maybe it wouldn't be so bad to at least let you have a good time.

[It was a genuine act that started all right, but then after that... It all just fell apart. He sighs as he runs his hand over his face and through his hair as he glances to the side.]

Maybe I was also too drunk to realize anything...

[That gets a huff out of her. Something that's a cross between a sigh, a scoff, and a laugh, and only because she feels conflicted. She feels like she should be more upset about this—that she should be telling him that he should have stopped them when she started coming on too strong, but she can't. She shouldn't be slightly amused by what he wanted because she wanted it, too...

Folding her arms defensively, she states with a curt tone, though she looks him in the eyes as she says it to make sure that he knows she is being serious. That she means it...]

For the record, I did enjoy myself. Moreso with you than with any other mystery man I met that night. I eventually grew tired of the others, but...

[Ah, she's already said too much, and she almost wants to backpedal. Instead, she closes her eyes and steels herself as if this was some giant confession she was making and not an obvious statement.]

Not with you.

[For some reason, her words bring him some relief, as if helped soothe some unknown tension be had been harboring. Perhaps... Perhaps he had been worried about how she felt being with him he certainly had worried over how things would change between them.

So perhaps because of that, he was going to be honest, too.]

...It's the same.

[His voice is quiet, but firm as it also reflects the seriousness of it. The same seriousness that is reflected in his eyes as he looks at her directly.]

Anyone else, I would have left without looking back, and I almost did before I realized everything.

[And now... A heavier pause before he continues.]

I only allowed it...because it was you.

[Not just the dance. Not just the drinking. But what happened as well.

It took him quite a long time for him to really come to terms with it, but no matter how he looked at it, Ilsa was the main constant and that he would feel much differently if this happened with someone else. Now, what that means towards any deeper meaning, he doesn't know yet still.

It could just be the familiarity and trust he has with her. Friendly hookups are a thing and this could very well be just that.

The problem is, neither of them are that shallow. At least he certainly isn't.]

[Now, it's a real laugh. Not a mocking one, not a self-deprecating one, but a genuinely amused, albeit quiet, laugh. She also hoped that it would ease some of that tension that still hangs there between them, but for her, it doesn't... because thinking about it again brings her thoughts elsewhere...

The meaning behind that, if there is any.

Because for Ilsa, as much as she dotes on the idea of finding some grand romance arc for herself someday, she isn't a shallow woman, either. She wants it to be with someone that she truly cares about, someone that she can relate to, someone that sees her for who she really is beneath the title. A man that she understands as much as he does her.

The most frightening part of that is... Eustace is only man she's ever met who checks those boxes, and not even in the romantic sense. They have gone through too much together, and even more than what she knows given everything he's told her, so it makes sense. They have always had a deep understanding and respect for one another, and Ilsa still respects him too much to think that this would simply be a shallow, one-time pursuit to let out some pent-up frustration.

Nor does she think that he would do such a thing.

As for what that means...

Ilsa runs a hand through her hair.]

I'm not sure what to make of this. It's one hell of a frustrating puzzle, huh...

...Mm.

[A low, quiet hum as he averts his gaze, his thoughts still racing.

He always keeps his thoughts to himself, only sharing when it's needed and even then sometimes not at all. That kind of secretive, closed off nature had almost been his and the world's downfall. So perhaps... He should just say what's on his mind. Maybe it will help her, and hopefully the both of them, too.]

...Ilsa. [His voice starts slow and quiet as he continues to weigh his thoughts and words.] I don't want any misunderstandings between us. You are someone I respect and trust, someone I hold in high regard, and value our relationship. I do not want that to be broken because of something that wasn't in our full control.

[He looks at her now, eyes clear as he continues.]

It's clear the drinks were enchanted, affecting our judgment and...thoughts. And it's perhaps fortunate things ended the way it did.

[As in, interrupted before they could go any further.]

I... [A small hesitation.] I don't want you hurt.

[Something that had been on his mind is that while he can move on whether they had actually hooked up or not, he's not sure how Ilsa would feel. She's the one who is seeking a relationship, a true romance to find love. Perhaps he's worrying too much—they're both older adults so perhaps it's not as important anymore. But he's still considering her feelings—and he's found he would dislike it greatly if he was the cause of some regret.

If he was part of something that she did not want, something that was against her will... It really wouldn't sit well with him.]

Edited 2023-04-28 19:45 (UTC)

[His words surprise her, and she stares across the room at him, stunned and silent, her hand paused halfway through another run of her hair while she listens. These are all things that she knew and things that she would agree with if she could find the right words to say right now, but it still surprises her anyway. She's hardly known Eustace to be very forthcoming with his thoughts or feelings, and even on the days when she could get a decent read on him, it was never one that could reach so deep to hear this.

It's the last part, however, that makes something lurch in her chest.]

Hurt?

[It's so tight that her controlled, steady voice almost cracks as she looks at him.]

Have you been afraid that you've hurt me since that night?

[Forget the drinks, forget whatever bad judgements they made... That's the last thing that she wants him to think.]

...Something like that.

[It does feel...strange telling her all this. He can see it clear in her eyes and body language that she's unused to it as well. It's only thanks to his recent developments that he's able to do this, even if it's still difficult.]

Regret... Or something.

[Ilsa remains stiff, almost unmoving at his admission, and she's once again at a complete loss for words. Not because she has no idea what to say... no, she has plenty she wants to say, but figuring out how to put it out into the world in a way that makes any sense of the thousand things she's feeling and has been is the difficult part. It's not often that she winds up tongue-tied or without a rebuttal, but it keeps happening in Eustace's presence.

She waits a little longer, in case there's more that he wants to say, but when nothing comes...

...

Ilsa leans back against the counter.]

If you've thought I regretted anything, then you've been wrong.

[That acknowledgement comes easily, at least. It's the next part that doesn't, and she fixes him with a steady, searching gaze.]

Did you?

[Here he hesitates. Hearing that she does not regret it both relieves him and spurs new questions to form.

What does she mean?

What part does she not regret?

It's only a beat later that he realizes—or at least hopes—that the meaning is the same for him, so when his expression clears, his eyes are steady and firm.]

No.

[If he did regret anything, it's how it happened.

But... Everything else? He can't think negatively of it. Worried, sure, but no sense of repulsion, no displeasure. Of course, that just opens a whole different can of worms, but at least on the basic level, there's no regrets.]

I only would have if you took things more negatively.

[Eustace's answer comes as a relief to her, too. Even if he did harbour any regrets of ill feelings towards her, she would have respected that. If not being around her would make all this easier for him to process, than she would keep away for as long as he needed... as much as it's pained her to do so since then. It isn't like Ilsa wanted to avoid him—she just didn't know what she would say or do when she no longer did.

So, there's a visible relaxing in her shoulders when he assures her that he didn't.

Which brings about another thought. Something that's been bothering her since the night of the masquerade. She may have been drunk, and maybe she doesn't fully remember all of the details of what happened before she fell asleep on the couch, but there is something that she can recall very clearly in her memories, as if it had only just happened yesterday.

And when the question spills out of her, she only belatedly realizes that she sounds like she's doubting him... That isn't her intent, but she is seeking a real, sincere answer from him about what happened.]

... Why did you leave the way you did, then? After you dropped me off.

[Somehow, seeing her relieved only helps him to relax further... Until she asks her question, which sparks a look of confusion.]

Leave... Ah.

[A small hum as he furrows his brows.]

...I thought you were uncomfortable around me and didn't want me around.

[And realizing how that sounds—]

Given what happened and...your condition, I thought you would have preferred it.

[...But now that he realizes that she asked the question, he wonders... Was that not the case? And the slight cant of his head and questioning look in his eyes reflect that.]

[Ilsa stares at him for what feels like much longer than just a few short seconds, disbelief crossing her features because how did they end up with such a stupid misunderstanding between them? Always so clear-headed, aware of the other, and all this confusion, all this inner turmoil has been happening because of, what...? A miscommunication?

Those seconds pass, and Ilsa pauses the conversation to dig into the cupboards for something. From them, she takes out a small jar of peanut butter, a spoon from the drawer, and takes a small scoop of it. Valo, who has been so patiently sitting and waiting for someone to notice him immediately lights up, his tail thumping against the floor as she approaches.]

May I?

[With his permission, of course.

But regardless of whether he allows it, she'll continue, distracting herself with the dog either way.]

I was... worried about you after you left. Your head wasn't exactly on straight that night, either.

[Except Ilsa knows he's likely seeking more than that, and she has more to give. She just needs another moment to figure out how to word it—not something she does often when she simply says what's on her mind.]

I thought that maybe you had wanted to stay.

[He wasn't sure what to expect, but her suddenly digging into the cupboards and pulling out... Peanut...butter...?

...Ah.

A quick glance at Valo—]

Sure.

[—and the dog is eagerly awaiting the tasty treat. But also waiting politely and patiently... Even if his tail and the bright eyes give it all away.

And he's watching the two of them while listening... But it's not until she voices the last part that he looks up sharply.]

Wanted to stay?

[...

....

Ilsa, please clarify because given the context that could mean a lot of different things.]

[She either doesn't pick up on his confusion, or she chooses not to bring attention to it. Ilsa keeps her attention mostly on Valo, though her ears are turned in Eustace's direction, listening to him intently, and there's a very subtle shift in her expression when he repeats her words...

She didn't want to have to explain, but... it makes sense. Given the circumstances surrounding the whole thing, given what happened before and how she felt after, she can't blame him for feeling a little confused, either.]

Mm.

[She nods, and a warm smile passes over her expression, ghosting it before it vanishes, when Valo tries to grab the spoon before going back to licking away the peanut butter as if this were his first meal ever.

But a flush begins to creep up into her cheeks when she recalls the bits that she remembers so clearly.]

You took good care of me while I was... [Clearing her throat.] Down for the count. ... I didn't want us to spend the night alone and I thought that we would take care of each other.

...Ah.

[A small awkward clearing of the throat. He really didn't think she meant anything like... A continuation of that night, but hearing this still somehow tickles him in a way he can't explain or understand. So he just averts his gaze as he tries to find his own words.]

I did... Wonder if I should have stayed to make sure you were all right... But it felt like you wanted me to leave.

I guess I misunderstood.

[Is that a laugh he gets out of her? It's one that's neither pained nor forced. Still a little awkward, but at least it's more sincere than the last few she's given him.]

You did. I think I went to sleep feeling a little upset that night.

[A little is an understatement. Although she did pass out hard when she finally did, it had taken her a while to really fall asleep. Her mind kept going through the events of the night over and over, all the way up until she watched him leave, and it was the last part of it that had really stung. More than anything else that they had said or done.]

Though, I suppose I misunderstood as well. I went to sleep under the impression that you wanted to leave. Wanted nothing to do with me.

No.

[—That came out quicker than he realized so it takes him a moment before he continues.]

...It's true I did want to leave, but only under the assumption that you were uncomfortable around me. And I was also feeling a bit confused as well, so I needed some time.

But I never thought that I didn't want you.

[...

WAIT.]

—Want anything to do with you, I mean.

[Primals help him he didn't mean to misspeak like that.]

Huh—!?

[Ilsa almost drops the spoon out of her hands, much to Valo's dismay, before he corrects himself, and even then... why does she feel that twinge of disappointment in her chest? It's not like she wants anything—at least, she doesn't think so, but she does wonder how much of it really was the drinks, and how much of it was them actually wanting something?

She shakes the feeling off. No sense in letting her mind spiral again now. She's just glad that they at least managed to clear that up without any trouble.

And, trying to lighten the mood a little, she does let herself grin.]

Oh? So you don't want me then?

[She might regret this in a few seconds...]

[And just going to stiffen before he KEEPS HIS HEAD TURNED AWAY.]

Ilsa, please.

[...There's a slight flush, though, a flash of heat that he tries to wipe away with his hand as he runs it over his face.

But the question won't leave him. He's neither denying nor confirming, because... He still doesn't know. Still doesn't know what to make of what happened that night. His thoughts, feelings. Even now he's not sure if his views are being colored. Ilsa has always been an objectively pretty, attractive woman. An idiot would be blind to that much. The thing is, he just never thought or felt anything beyond that.

Now, however... Now that he's been made of aware of everything, seen more than he should have...

....]

You?

[In the end, he ends up turning the question back on her...though he's not really hoping or seeking a real answer. It's more to to see if she's also having the same issues.]

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