bakerstreet | one ain't the loneliest number

(( M/F pref but OTA! Also would prefer if characters were around his age (17) but a little older and younger is fine! ))

[Ed’s 15, so partners around his age are preferred!]

Y-you'll come back...right?

[Ed looks away, fiddling with the edges of his glove.]

Of course I will. Who do you think I am?

[And okay, so maybe it’s stupid of Ed to say that, for him to get Sena’s hopes up, but he’ll be dammed if he’s gonna make Sena upset this close to Ed’s leaving.]

You should know better than to worry about me.

A--ye-yeah, right. [Sena sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck, looking down at their shoes. durable travel boots, running shoes...they got very different things going on on all levels! he knows.

still...he has an unpleasant little ache in his chest. like dread, but different.

after a beat he blinks, suddenly super self-aware, and his head pops back up.]

You, uh...you think wherever you're going's gonna be more exciting? I mean--I know I'm not supposed to ask too much and all, sorry. I guess, only...where do I address letters?

I-I mean! If you. Want. Letters. That is. Do you?

[Letters? That sounds…nice.]

Yeah, sure. Letters would be…great. [The words don’t come out as nonchalantly as he’d hoped, and he flushes a little.] And, yeah, you aren’t supposed to ask too much, but…

[Ed had never really cared about what he’s supposed to do.]

Up north. It’s gonna be freakin’ cold. [He snorts.] I can’t give you my exact location, but there’s gonna be a town a couple hours away from me. You can send letters there.

North...

[where it gets cold? it hardly does here, so it's definitely a ways... he gets caught up in that detail while Ed's doing him a solid he should really be listening intently to, but his brain almost runs as fast as his feet.

in fact, it's run to a thought that stops him in his tracks and makes him pipe up, cutting Ed off at the end there:] It's not right now, right? When...when you're leaving, I mean. By train? It's a train, right? When's the train?

[if it's not right now, he can go get him a present! something for up north...he should've gotten him a present the moment he heard he was leaving! so stupid. why didn't he think sooner?! Mamori-nee is so much better at planning for things like this than him...what if Ed forgets all about him because he forgot to give him a present?!]

[Sena almost seems…worried. It makes Ed’s stomach do a funny flip thing that he doesn’t like, almost like he’s nervous.]

Train doesn’t leave for a while. [He reaches into a coat pocket and pulls out a ticket, waving it at Sena.] Tomorrow morning at six.

[He wishes Sena didn’t have that look on his face! It leaves Ed feeling guilty, makes him wonder why he’s so worried.]

Tomorrow at six. [Sena gets that blank look on his face when he's trying to process or memorize something really hard before his eyes dart around them to find a clock.

five pm now? that's...thirteen hours?! that's it???

a little bit of sweat starts to bead on his forehead as his nerves start to really kick in. typically, being on the clock for anything means he's racing against the odds of getting bullied by people forcing him to run errands, but in this case? this is a race against his very best friend going away for...for who knows how long! this is more important than bullies or football or whatever!

it'd be really great for Ed's sake if this inner monologue was somewhat vocalized to give the poor kid a clue as to what's going on in that spiky head, but instead he just gets grasped suddenly by the shoulders and fixed with a wide-eyed, urgent look.]

D-don't get on until you see me! Okay? I-I, I'll see you off! Okay?

[Ed has to admit, the idea of seeing Sena before leaving sounds…nice, but still…]

I’m not going to make you get up that early just so you can say bye! Get some sleep!

[Already, Ed’s wondering if he can blackmail whoever is in charge of train scheduling to get his train to leave later.

But for now…

Ed smiles, pulls Sena’s hands off his shoulders, and clasps them in his own.]

Look. I won’t leave without you. Calm down, okay?

[Sena's mouth opens and closes wordlessly while Ed dismisses his demands...until he doesn't. he blinks in bewilderment a few times, and it takes a fast triple-quadruple take to notice he's not clasping shoulders, because Ed's clasping his hands!

his face goes red-hot so fast, steam may as well have puffed out his ears.

loudly, just out of a sheer inability to control his voice:] Y-you promise?!

[Ed rolls his eyes, even if the fond little smile is still on his face. Damn emotions making him all cheesy…]

What, have I ever lied to you? Yeah I promise.

[While most of Ed is confused - and maybe a little overwhelmed - by the attention, there’s a small part of him that puffs up a little.

Before he met Sena, the people who worried about Ed could be counted on one hand. Al, Winry, Pinako, maybe even Teacher…Ed doesn’t really understand why Sena seems to be so worried about him, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.]

It’ll only be for what, a couple’a months? And then I’ll be back.

[look: Ed's super important! he's perhaps the only other person besides Mamo-nee who hasn't used him for his speed! sure, he's still good friends with everyone who has and treats him kindly (or, uh, sprays bullets from an AK to improve morale on the field), but there's something special about being befriended simply for...being?

that's likely why Sena always seems overeager to try and compensate him somehow. make the friendship worth his time, worth keeping. worth returning to.

and a couple months? that's like a whole vacation's worth of time! that's a quarter of being 15! that's a lot of days Sena now has to account for without being able to just sit and talk!!!

...he'll probably just have to sit and write. man...]

O-o-okay, ye-yeah! [the stammering's on doubletime on account of the hand-clasping, and he's practically vibrating in place like a wind-up toy that'll likely bullet off the second he's let go.

...in fact, that's actually his plan: he has to go check the stores for a goodbye present really fast before they all close!]

Just. Just don't leave before I say goodbye properly, okay? I'll be on time, I promise!

Edited 2021-08-30 15:27 (UTC)

[ Bit voicetesty still! Open to his partner being a third wheel if that gives you a creative idea, but she's not necessary obviously ]

May I have this dance?

( the voice comes out of nowhere--or perhaps it's just that he's not paying enough attention for it to register, for him to notice that he's not, in fact, the only person lingering by the open bar like there's nothing else better for him to do. as far as he can tell, the entire gala is a success; noctis looks like he's enjoying himself as much as he can, being in a ballroom surrounded by so many people, most of whom he only knows peripherally, and most of whom shake his hand and threaten tears at the joy of getting to meet the chosen one, the one strong enough to bring insomnia out of darkness.

even he feels emotional, looking at him--it's one thing to remember noctis when he was younger, stubborn and quiet and shadowy himself, but it's entirely different to see him as he is now, proud and confident and relieved, even, and enjoying the party in his own way. prompto, too, is there by his side: and with gladiolus lingering just outside of the vicinity, he knows he doesn't have to hover. the last thing he needs is noctis, of all people, telling him how to have a good time.

so he's been hovering by the bar, instead. a perfect disguise. sure, he's had his own share of somewhat dull conversations, the type of talk that any advisor to the crown has to tolerate, but excusing himself to refill his glass had only worked so many times that it seemed more pertinent to linger here under the pretense of consistently adding more white wine to his glass.

a glass that's trapped between his hands as he looks at the woman who asked the question--one that he laughs at, softly, and almost with a sheen of embarrassment. )

I am afraid that you may find me a disappointing partner. ( it's said with the soft, humble air of someone not trying to exaggerate their weaknesses, but instead provide some sort of context to the beautiful stranger; he's not sure where she's from, and he'd studied the guest list copiously beforehand, mostly to give noctis an idea of who would be present. still, they did allow each guest to bring their own. ) I may be graced with two left feet.

( still--it's impolite to turn down a lady, and he sets his glass on the bar, offers her an open-palmed hand. )

Would you like to lead?

[Red isn't sure she should be here. Her star may be rising, but not yet so high that she'd normally be getting invites to royal galas; as Ignis guessed, she's somebody's plus one. Despite her private doubts about Sybil's intentions in choosing her, she could hardly turn it down. Who knows when she'll get another chance to see this?

It is a little awkward, though. Plenty of faces she recognizes from the media, nobody she actually knows. She finds herself drifting towards the bar eventually, intending not to drink but simply to watch, or so she intended before she gets there and sees she isn't alone. This man... she's seen him on the news, hasn't she? He was always somewhere in the King's vicinity, so that she's almost surprised to see him alone. Maybe that's what intrigues her— she can't say— but more likely it's the feeling she gets of a vague kinship, that he isn't where he would prefer to be any more than she is.]

You may. [She offers him a smile with a hint of gentle mischief to it. Not exactly teasing, but daring him to prove himself wrong.] But this song doesn't suit dancing alone, don't you think?

[The invitation to lead surprises her, but she does an admirable job of not showing it. She accepts his hand, grasping it loosely like she's leaving him an opportunity to escape, and draws him away from the bar.]

I'd be honored to.

( it definitely isn't the sort of song that would favor someone dancing alone--even without knowing a thing about music, it would be easy to deduce giving a look at the couples already mingling together on the floor, drawn together far more easily than he would be able to do. there are a great many things that he's learned in his bid to be a good advisor, many things that he was taught in his youth; he'd certainly been taught to dance, but that had been a long time ago, and without much use in practicing it until now. still: the woman seems remarkably amused by him, at least enough to humor his poor attempts. he offers her another smile.

the way that she takes him away from the bar has him shooting his glass one last, longing sort of glance before he sets himself for what's in front of him--trying to remember how to not have two left feet. and perhaps that's part cowardice, in asking her if she'd like to lead; it does make it much easier on him to simply have to follow.

then again, there's something amusing about it: as though she may be a girl who enjoys the juxtaposition, too. )

You seem to be enjoying yourself as much as I am.

( it's conversational, as he sets himself with holding one of her hands, his other placed neatly on the woman's shoulder, assuming position with a rather playful immediacy. )

What brings you to our humble gala this evening, if I may ask?

[She catches that last backward glance and feels a slight pang of guilt. Perhaps it was a minor cruelty to interrupt his wallflowering, sense of kinship or no. Ah well, she won't keep him longer than this song unless he invites her to.]

It's an experience.

[Noncommittal, pretending for dignity's sake to take his comment at face value. Why yes, they are enjoying themselves, what gave you the impression otherwise?

She seems at home on the dance floor, leading him into motion with a gliding grace. If her own steps are a little off the rhythm, like she's having to remember for herself how formal dances work, at least she's making it look reasonable, and keeping off his toes.]

She does. Sybil Reisz. [She gives a subtle nod in the direction of a trio of people standing off to the side of the dance floor. One of them, a petite woman with voluminous pale curls, is leading the unfamiliar couple she's with in animated conversation. Red doesn't offer an explanation of what she’s doing here; she'd thought royal events were outside even Sybil's realm of influence, but the lady is full of surprises.]

I got... mm, let's say gently bullied into being her plus one.

[And she hasn't even introduced herself, come to think.]

Red, by the way.

[She smiles a little sheepishly, well aware of her lapse in manners. It's a royal function, she'd better start acting like it!]

Just Red is fine.

Ah, yes. I admit that I am more familiar with her, than with you.

( there is a glance spared, of course, in sybil's direction, but she doesn't seem to be causing any harm: on the contrary, she seems to be enjoying herself far more than plenty of people here, he would imagine, making the atmosphere more lively simply by her presence. interesting, then, to have this woman as her plus one: this woman who introduces herself as red, which makes his own lips quirk into something of a smile. )

Just Red, then. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

( just as it is a pleasure to dance with her: she knows the steps well enough that he doesn't feel himself fumbling, and though it's certainly an odd experience, to be the one that's forced to follow, instead of lead, there's something warmly amusing about it, something that has him likely fumbling more than she seems to. he does duck his head a bit, of course, to ensure that he isn't stepping on her toes--but after that, it's easier to find his gait and follow her more instinctively. )

I'm also Just Ignis, if it pleases you. ( surely he's a little more well-known than that, but perhaps he can manage to get by without letting it slip that he is the advisor to the crown: it's always more comfortable, when people aren't so stiffly formal with him all the time. ) And I'll admit, you are a fantastic dancer.

I may have to ask you to give me lessons, if you've got the time. Your steps are quite confident.

one ain't the loneliest number

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