impure_tale

[For a long few moments, Pavi says nothing. For someone who's just said they have no interest in riddles, the Marquis' wording seems ludicrously circumspect. As for beasts in fine clothing, well. When the Marquis had once said that Pavi's world was something he might have written about, those words stuck with him.]

Naturally, why would you write of this? I could not imagine a less worthy subject.

Then you are too young to have truly suffered from it, and I wonder what might have happened had I stayed away longer. [He says this plainly, and with a kind of firmness that is not uncommon for him. He does not avoid eye contact; his tone of voice does not turn softer to make the words easier on the ear.] You are very postured. You make your home in massive luxury, saturated in finery and color. You wear a face that is not your own. I must either wonder whether what lies beneath is something that shames you or whether what lies beneath is simply incomplete.

[Pavi stares at him as if he's been slapped. Nobody has ever spoken to him in this way, never...judged him. Nobody back home would ever dare. He is a Largo; an heir to the world's most powerful corporation. You just...wouldn't. And from anyone else Pavi would be tempted to channel his older brother for a few seconds just to shut up the offending party, but this is the fucking Marquis de Sade and he can't.]

In... [He feels his throat freezing. No. No. His smile is rigid.] Incomplete, Marchese? I am not a child, and I do not have anything that shames me.

[He's smart to mark the strain in that smile. He's seen it before from others.] I would welcome knowing you either way, Paviche. [He says this seriously.] And I do not smile when I am unhappy, pet. If you are displeased then say so.

Displeased? No. Why would the Pavi be displeased? [He takes a long, fortifying sip of wine, nonetheless.] The mask...my face, it is...some would find it ugly, si? It is not what it once was. [A careful shrug.] That is all.

There are many ugly things in the world, dumpling, but beauty fades. Always. [He raises his glass as though in toast.] However, the older a man becomes, the wiser, the less attractive, and thereby the more successful. I'm a shadow of the beauty I was in my youth, not even that. But I can make anyone want me if I so desired.

[Pavi gives him a sly look.] You are fishing for compliments, Marchese, si? You can make everyone want you because you are still extremely beautiful. If you think that age makes a man ugly then you are not as wise as you think.

I do not need compliments, kumquat; I know I'm good. [He chuckles a little.] It's personality, and I know it. Even the people who are repulsed by me find me alluring in some way or another.

Yes, I have noticed this. [But it still bothers him a little that an attractive man won't just accept a compliment on the virtue of its basis in fact. Pavi had been beautiful once, as well, and he doesn't know if having that beauty forcibly stripped from him is better or worse than being able to slowly watch it fade. He sips his wine.] And you will stop calling me strange names, perhaps?

Why? [There is no reproach in his voice. He watches the man with decided interest.] Do terms of endearment bother you?

Why would I be bothered? [Pavi's being more defensive than he needs to be, but really, the Marquis really has to stop asking him about how he feels. It's a bank of questions which he has never had to answer to anyone else.] They are simply...bizarre and confusing.

But I am bizarre and confusing. [Now he's just quibbling, but he's testing the man's boundaries.]

Si, this is true. As you will, then, Marchese - the Pavi will simply have to become used to it. Va bene. [After spending his formative years with a mass murderer and a junkie, Pavi's learnt to pick his battles. He had to. He glances in his wineglass and is disappointed to find it empty.]

More, then? [The Marquis picks up the decanter. He's won that argument for now; he always does.]

I do not think I should. I got...a little drunk during your absence, si? [And the Marquis would probably infer that the latter had caused the former, but Pavi was prepared to let him. It had, after all. Sort of.] Your warden - your former warden, so sorry - he was handing out champagne to celebrate your graduation.

Everyone so happy to see me gone? [He smirks a little.] And nonsense. You think I'll take advantage of you?

[Pavi smirks right back.] I am more worried that I will be made useless with alcohol and you won't. [Still, it'll take more than two glasses of wine to cripple him, so he shrugs and holds out his glass.]

Might I...ask a question, Marchese?

[He refills it generously]

You may ask me any question you wish, Paviche.

Thank you. [He circles the rim of the glass with a fingertip. Asking other people questions about themselves still isn't his forte.] You...were gone for a few days, after your graduation. I am sure you have noticed this. Where is it that you went, before returning here?

I -- [Well damn. He would have been better equipped to continue with talking sex like he always did, so the question throws him off.] Well -- that's just the thing, I'm afraid. [He sits down and gestures for Pavi to do the same.] I do not really remember.

[Pavi sits and arranges himself neatly, watching the Marquis with interest. Lying? Possibly. Probably. But he'd prefer to believe that the man is telling the truth, because he knows barely enough about the Marquis' life and where he's from to know that he would never, ever want to go there himself.]

I see. With these 'floods' and the other strange things that happen here...I think it would be perhaps quite ordinary to lose a few days, si?

It is not even that. I know I was somewhere. I know I spoke to the Admiral. But I cannot remember where I was, or what he looked like. It is as you hear him when he speaks. You think you recognize the voice -- you can't even identify it as the Admiral, almost. But it's just out of reach.

[Pavi's brow furrows and he immediately regrets it. His mask doesn't seem to want to adjust to anything any more.] This is...very disturbing. But it is not so bad not to remember where you are, if you know what you did, si?

I suppose. I do not know if it was good or bad, of course. But if it was bad, better not to remember. [He ponders the mask again for a moment.] What is it made of, your mask?

It is skin. [Simple enough. But he can't exactly leave it there.] It was my sister's, an implant - created for her, si? She changes often, and this is a part of what Papa's company does. This one, it...did not take. So I bought it from her, and now... [He gestures to the mask. He knows he's not omitting a lot of facts here - that this is the only face he's come by so innocently, for example - but omission of truth is a world away from lying, in his opinion.]

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