[At that Dito's smile becomes positively beatific. Here at last is something he's capable of-- something he can do for this man who has somehow become so important to him in such a short time. He isn't sure why, of course, and that troubles him-- at least, it troubles the rational part of his mind that still can be troubled. But that part is very quickly subsumed by his desire to be useful, and so the faint warning bells going off inside his head are ignored.
It probably doesn't matter all that much, anyway.]
I'll make you the best stew you've ever tasted, sir. I promise you that.
[It doesn't take long before they've arrived at Dito's house. The smaller man quickly climbs the steps and unlocks the door, opening it with the flourish of a doorman who's been at it for twenty years or more.]
Right this way, sir. You can have a seat in the living room if you like. I'll get to work on preparing some lunch for you.
[ Dito isn't difficult to make happy in this state, as it turns out. He has a purpose that he can follow, and Paul knows something about the comfort than comes of that. Amplified to this degree, manipulated by the blood-tide magics of this world, it must approach bliss. ]
I'm sure it will be.
[ The front door is as Paul remembers it. He brushes through the doorway with head high and scanning for threats, as is his custom. He doesn't stoop to take off his boots. Both things bother him now, creeping up the back of his throat like stealthy strangling hands of social taboo.
It would have been one thing to break into Dito's house in an act of aggression. It feels like another to be welcomed in, given a place of honor. He doesn't like the way it sits with him even while he makes his way to the living room. ]
Is there anything here I should know about, besides you?
[ He saw no suggestion of another person under this roof during his observations, but that rules next to nothing out. ]
[Dito is so focused on gathering the necessary ingredients for lunch that he almost misses Paul's query. The other man's question stops him in his tracks, and he glances curiously over at him.]
Nnnno? [The word comes out as a hesitant drawl, as if he's worried this isn't the correct answer.] I'm not much for roommates, and I don't really have many visitors, normally.
[His brow furrows in concern.]
That's not a problem, is it? I promise there's nothing wrong with my hosting skills. I've had training. [He utters an awkward, self-conscious laugh.]
[ There's something a touch sad about that isolation, even if it prevents further complication. The man had been so dramatically unpleasant it doesn't come as a surprise, but - still. ]
Yes. You seem like you have experience in service.
[ Paul had never seen one of these chocolates' effects up close before, but the jittering edge of tension in Dito's compliance somehow doesn't seem entirely the product of magical interference. Paul offers up another reassuring smile, but this time he allows some of his concerns to shine through in a careful construct of sympathy. ]
It seems like you had a strict instructor.
[ He doesn't want to hover, but he also doesn't want to lose track of Dito out of sight. Getting him to keep talking will solve the problem neatly. ]
[Luckily for Paul, the living room isn't out of earshot of the kitchen, so Dito's voice carries through quite nicely. He feels guilty that he won't be able to give Paul his undivided attention, but hopefully his cooking skills will make up for it.
There's a brief silence, broken up only by the sound of chopping vegetables, and when he speaks again a trace of the old Dito comes back a little.]
"Strict" isn't really the right word. More like... "overbearing". I was tasked with doing everything for her-- picking out her outfits, ordering supplies, going along with her on quests to collect rare commodities...
If I did well, I was "rewarded". If I didn't, then I was punished. Didn't really matter-- they both amounted to the same thing in my opinion.
[ Paul is trained to read nuance, but he wouldn't have to be in order to catch the inflection on Dito's "rewards". It gives him no precise insight into what that means, no flash of knowledge, but it has an oily sheen that makes his stomach twist as he braces his elbows against his knees and hangs his head. He has to take three careful breaths before he trusts his own voice again. ]
I won't be like that.
[ A faint edge of urgency through his affable lightness. He doesn't know how much of Dito might still be resisting this, if any at all, but it's necessary to Paul to make sure that this is understood even if the answer is 'none'. Clear expectations, defined boundaries - ]
That's not how I treat anyone in my service, is what I mean. You care for my well-being, I care for yours.
[There is the sound of vegetables being dropped into a pot; the sound of simmering liquid. Dito crosses the threshold into the living room where Paul sits, lowering himself hesitantly onto the couch as if worried that Paul will disapprove.
That grateful, sycophantic look is back in his eyes again, and when he speaks it's with the shyly affectionate tone of someone in love.]
Oh, I know you'd take care of me, sir. You seem very kind. I know you wouldn't make me do anything I wouldn't want to do. And maybe I would want it. Eventually, I mean. I get the feeling it'd be better with you than with my last mistress.
[His smile warps to goofy embarrassment and he turns away, flushing slightly.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It probably doesn't matter all that much, anyway.]
I'll make you the best stew you've ever tasted, sir. I promise you that.
[It doesn't take long before they've arrived at Dito's house. The smaller man quickly climbs the steps and unlocks the door, opening it with the flourish of a doorman who's been at it for twenty years or more.]
Right this way, sir. You can have a seat in the living room if you like. I'll get to work on preparing some lunch for you.
no subject
I'm sure it will be.
[ The front door is as Paul remembers it. He brushes through the doorway with head high and scanning for threats, as is his custom. He doesn't stoop to take off his boots. Both things bother him now, creeping up the back of his throat like stealthy strangling hands of social taboo.
It would have been one thing to break into Dito's house in an act of aggression. It feels like another to be welcomed in, given a place of honor. He doesn't like the way it sits with him even while he makes his way to the living room. ]
Is there anything here I should know about, besides you?
[ He saw no suggestion of another person under this roof during his observations, but that rules next to nothing out. ]
no subject
Nnnno? [The word comes out as a hesitant drawl, as if he's worried this isn't the correct answer.] I'm not much for roommates, and I don't really have many visitors, normally.
[His brow furrows in concern.]
That's not a problem, is it? I promise there's nothing wrong with my hosting skills. I've had training. [He utters an awkward, self-conscious laugh.]
no subject
Yes. You seem like you have experience in service.
[ Paul had never seen one of these chocolates' effects up close before, but the jittering edge of tension in Dito's compliance somehow doesn't seem entirely the product of magical interference. Paul offers up another reassuring smile, but this time he allows some of his concerns to shine through in a careful construct of sympathy. ]
It seems like you had a strict instructor.
[ He doesn't want to hover, but he also doesn't want to lose track of Dito out of sight. Getting him to keep talking will solve the problem neatly. ]
Am I right?
(cw: vague mentions of sexual abuse)
There's a brief silence, broken up only by the sound of chopping vegetables, and when he speaks again a trace of the old Dito comes back a little.]
"Strict" isn't really the right word. More like... "overbearing". I was tasked with doing everything for her-- picking out her outfits, ordering supplies, going along with her on quests to collect rare commodities...
If I did well, I was "rewarded". If I didn't, then I was punished. Didn't really matter-- they both amounted to the same thing in my opinion.
(cw: vague mentions of sexual abuse)
I won't be like that.
[ A faint edge of urgency through his affable lightness. He doesn't know how much of Dito might still be resisting this, if any at all, but it's necessary to Paul to make sure that this is understood even if the answer is 'none'. Clear expectations, defined boundaries - ]
That's not how I treat anyone in my service, is what I mean. You care for my well-being, I care for yours.
[ He can feel the debts piling up already. ]
(cw: vague mentions of sexual abuse)
That grateful, sycophantic look is back in his eyes again, and when he speaks it's with the shyly affectionate tone of someone in love.]
Oh, I know you'd take care of me, sir. You seem very kind. I know you wouldn't make me do anything I wouldn't want to do. And maybe I would want it. Eventually, I mean. I get the feeling it'd be better with you than with my last mistress.
[His smile warps to goofy embarrassment and he turns away, flushing slightly.]
I-If I'm not overstepping. Sir.