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Luchino has always preferred more seclusion when it came to workspaces. His bedroom in the manor was much too comfortable for such work ethic, too focused on its purpose of leisure and rest.
Hencewhy his bedroom remained relatively spotless save for the occasional scales. Those could be observed later.
His go-to location? The manor’s library, of course.
Its collection was bountiful, and even after hours of browsing the books at everyone’s disposal, it only urges the man to dig deeper, get his hands on more that could answer the questions and hypotheses that buzzed in his skull.
Of course, there are times when comfortable solitude isn’t an option, and with that he is fine so long as nothing disturbs his peace. Presences are more than welcome, and some more than others if they’re busy bodies such as himself…
Such as the novelist who seems to have made the library his nest more then he would admit.
Orpheus is still cooped up at the desk he usually claims when he seeks refuge in the library. Papers lined with the fantastical machinations of his mind surround him, and Luchino can only wonder what sort of story he may be drafting up now. More bold and amazing than the last, the novelist boasts himself, and perhaps he’s inclined to believe it given the fact he’s read some of his books himself.
Fiction never intrigued him until it came to Orpheus’s novels.
“Mr. Orpheus,” Luchino coos as he enters, and the writer looks up as if brought out of a daze. “Lovely to be graced with your presence once again.”
“Mr. Diruse.”
“Ah, don’t mind me now.” He saunters across the room, Orpheus’s gaze following him along the way to a bookshelf. “I won’t pester you.”
The moment they lock eyes is immediately when Orpheus breaks the contact, clearing his throat, readjusting his monocle, and rolling his right wrist before getting right back to writing.
Orpheus is amusing to Luchino in such regards; for a man of such literal eloquence, he’s a man of few words with most of them either recorded on the pages he writes upon or implied from the way he carries himself.
As Luchino plucks one, two, three lengthy books from the shelves towering high into the ceiling, he hums to himself, soon becoming lost in his own thoughts as he situates himself on a lounge chair nearby.
And so he sits, legs crossed as he coops up with one of the books that would help his eyes open up to the wonders of humanity.
…
Is what he would say if it didn’t contain that which he had already known, or thought, or simply theorized about.
It’s a regurgitation of previously known knowledge that’s nothing more than a leisure read, and he can’t say he’s not bothered.
The feeling of disappointment has been diluted since his arrival of the manor, discoveries becoming more and more spaced out with each passing day. With the behemoth of books he’s already read in the library, new information comes in sudden sparks of realization.
Perhaps today wouldn’t be one of those days.
Luchino sighs into the empty air, skimming a few more pages before ultimately deciding he could check that book for other discoveries at another time. Picking up another book, the professor is ready to dive into a well of information-
At least until the crinkle of paper catches his attention.
Hazel hues perk up at that, and they trace over to the source of the sound: Orpheus’s hand crumpled about a blank piece of paper as he seems to look about him in concealed alarm.
“Goodness, Mr. Orpheus.” Luchino muses, amusement and concern mixing together in his tone. “Are you well?”
The novelist promptly takes a deep breath, nodding as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Quite well, Mr. Diruse.” Is his answer, short and sweet… Though to the professor’s ever studious eye, he can see well isn’t quite how Orpheus looks.
There’s the pronounced darkening right under his eyes, for instance. Of course, he’s not one to talk either, his own eyebags unable to be concealed. But on Orpheus… It looks almost unbecoming of someone like him who so deeply cares for his public image.
Then there’s the faint tilt of his head to the side, as if he threatens to topple over… With the way Orpheus’s arm rests on the desk, propping his chin up… It’s not difficult to assume.
“Do you need an escort to your room, Mr. Orpheus?” Luchino suggests, a small smile curling on his lips at the way Orpheus seems mildly disgruntled at his idea. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem quite fatigued.”
He shakes his head in response, recomposing with a stretch of the back and a strained grunt.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Diruse… I’ll manage.”
Despite Orpheus’s words, Luchino knows humans can only function for so long until they finally exhaust themselves of the steam of willpower.
Even so… He’ll entertain the novelist’s perserverance to simply stay awake. It’s rather endearing if one could call it that, so he chuckles, nodding as he opens up his next book.
“As you say so.”
And so silence settles once more.
Luchino’s gotten himself cooped up with another book to idly pass the time, glossing over facts and graphs that he’s seen previously in his research. The structure of reptiles, their special anatomy, and the even more special functions of their features… It never fails to make his eyes light up with faint intrigue.
Time passes in a comfortable manner, seconds in sync with letters as the professor consumes the contents of the book like it’s a cornucopia. He relishes in the quiet of the moment.
Or as quiet as it can be after Luchino hears the awkward inhale of air that comes out of the novelist.
The snort-like sound comes back again, piquing Luchino’s curiosity as he straightens himself out, back lifting from the chair he’s lounged himself in.
What greets him is Orpheus yet again, head now down on the desk and pen on the floor. He snores again, slouched body rising and falling with each breath of sleep… And Luchino chuckles lowly, perhaps secretively, at the display before him.
It’s something akin to the few matches he’s shared with the man. On one such instance, hunched over a chair and daring to pass out right there at the dinner table were it not for Ithaqua owlishly staring daggers at him. His teammates looked in dismay at how the novelist nearly fell out of his chair once he heard the hunter whispers like an eerie breeze that falling asleep right before the match was rude. Luchino, on the other hand, couldn’t help but find it hilarious.
Now, however, uninterrupted by outside influences and simply two kindred busy bodies… Luchino can really drink in the man’s features. He lifts himself from the lounge chair, setting the book aside to slowly approach Orpheus with calculated footsteps.
“Mr. Orpheus?”
He speaks up just once, wondering if it’s enough to stir him from his slumber.
When another snore is his only response… Luchino dares to take a step closer, bending forward a bit to place a hand on the desk as he peers down at him, observes him in his vulnerability.
Orpheus has been something of a mystery, someone that piqued his curiosity in a different regard than most. For a man of his standing and class, Luchino can’t help but be drawn to him despite their differences in interest.
But looking at him now… His lips curl a bit more upwards.
The novelist looks so at peace, and Luchino drinks in his features like a fine wine.
From the way some of his hair strays away from his carefully maintained slicked back fashion, to the clean creases in his suit, to the way the chain of his monocle dangles almost haphazardly… To the way his eyebags have become more prevalent, to the alight furrow of his brows in unconscious concentration, to the way his mouth hangs open just slightly agape, taking in breaths of sleep…
A soft hum, and Luchino wonders just how many have seen the famed novelist in such a state. Truly, this was a rarity that he’s fortunate to happen upon simply by chance.
It was almost beautiful in a mundane sense.
Maybe he won’t go through the trouble of waking him up if it means he can observe Orpheus like this just for a bit longer.
A little laugh to himself, and he goes back to the lounge chair not far away, crossing his legs and leaving the novelist to his fantastical dreams.
A quiet grunt, and Orpheus stirs… A dull ache in his neck becomes ever more present as he sits up, disoriented as his vision focuses on the words before him. Rubbing more of the sleep from his eyes, the sentences become clearer…
As does the sensation of drool.
He grimaces at that, wiping at the edge of his mouth with his spare handkerchief with a silent groan. How unbecoming, he thinks to himself, trying to find his spot in the story he’s been crafting.
“Where was I…” He mumbles to himself, voice groggy as he straightens up.
“You seemed to be rather immersed in whatever dream your mind was making, Mr. Orpheus.”
The slight tease of the voice startled Orpheus awake more, met with the slightly smug smirk curled on Luchino’s lips as he looks up from an encyclopedia. The moment their gazes lock, the novelist has to look away, trying to rid himself of the burning sensation that threatens to seize his face.
“Ahem… I didn’t think you’d still be here, Mr. Diruse.”
“You underestimate me.” Luchino coos, flipping another page of the encyclopedia as his eyes remain fixated upon him. “I’m quite fond of the library’s collection among other things.”
Perhaps he shouldn’t dissect the meaning of what those other things should be, because the professor adds on the fact, “You’re rather flushed for having just woken up.”
Curse the way his cheeks grow rosier just from a verbal observation and curse the way he struggles to maintain his composure.
“P-Pay it no mind. I’d like to retain some of my dignity.”
Orpheus remains strait-laced despite the trivial situation he finds himself in, having passed out in the presence of the scholar sitting before him. Another dab at the edge of his lips with his handkerchief, and as he tucks it away into his suit’s breast pocket, all Orpheus hears is Luchino’s delightful hum of approval as he presses his index finger to his lips.
“Consider this our little secret then.” He responds, closing the encyclopedia and bundling it up in his arms. As he stands, he casts another curious glance to Orpheus, chuckling. “I won’t shy away from mentioning this if you threaten to fall asleep outside of your personal quarters though. It would have made for quite the talk of the manor if someone else happened to stumble upon you in such a state.”
That makes the novelist sputter, much to Luchino’s mild delight.
“I hope that won’t be the case.”
“It won’t if you retire to your quarters.” The click of his heels signal the beginning of Luchino’s departure. If not for the words he spoke, he would have simply gone back to writing.
“I will admit though, you are rather interesting in your sleep, Mr. Orpheus. It’s almost endearing.”
He cocks his head back at the professor, eyes a bit wide from being caught off guard.
“Pardon?”
“Ah, nothing.” Despite how much the novelist wishes to question him further, the pace of Luchino’s steps quickens as he exits. “Good day to you.”
The door to the library closes, and despite the silence that casts over the room…
Orpheus’s hand travels to his chest, worried if the pounding of his heart was loud enough for Luchino to hear.