#( i'm so sorry kaveh but you picked one of the most old fashioned men in fontaine to get involved with )

[daybreakrising]

@avaere: "What about that building over there -" Kaveh muses abruptly, a hand reaching over to Vautrin's shoulder, requesting his attention with a small squeeze. " It seems to be clothing store now, but from looking at the exterior it doesn't seem like it has always been one ? If there's someone who knows his history it's you, and it would be great to understand how shops are usually modeled in Fontaine, whereas..."

He goes on and on about it, all as his hand rests neatly on top of Vautrin's shoulder, eyes falling to his every now and then with a little smile. There are mentions of a job, of course, then details he was looking for in the various buildings he had been asking Vautrin to explain the history of, all tucked into longer ramblings that surely would come off as ancient tongue to most.

Seriously, how can a guy talk so much about a building?

Only when he nears the end of his musings does his hand fall down, grazing Vautrin's back with a light caress. Smile never quite falters as maroon eyes return to him; " ... maybe we should get something to eat after you've answered my initial question ! What kind of building used to be in the place of that clothing store ?" Hand, however, doesn't quite part from the other as it seems to have made itself a little comfortable against Vautrin's lower back.

"You always have the most interesting stories to share."

He has never known someone with as much enthusiasm for buildings as the man now launching into yet another rambling speech in which Vautrin only catches roughly sixty percent of the words, and understands only about forty percent. It doesn't matter to him that Kaveh may as well be speaking another language - he listens anyway, the gentlest of smiles curving upon his lips as he watches how animated the architect gets. Hands are waved in broad, sweeping gestures, details are singled out with the point of a finger, and he speaks with his entire soul.

It is a thing of beauty.

Until Kaveh, Vautrin had never really considered the architecture of Fontaine in any great detail. He appreciated the aesthetics of some of the more prominent buildings, yes, but he'd never paid much thought to anything beyond the facades. Now, however, he finds himself following the architect's pointing fingers, taking in the clever elements of construction, noticing all these small details that would otherwise have gone unremarked upon.

The question lingers in his mind as he waits for a pause in which to deliver his answer. How this man can talk for so long without seeming to even pause for breath is an incredible feat in itself. But, for a man like Vautrin, who speaks so little and so reservedly, he is more than happy to let Kaveh fill the silences with his vibrant and passionate ramblings.

The building in question, he remembers, used to be owned by a glassmith of incredible talent. He can still picture the beautiful displays of glassware in the windows - vibrantly coloured vases, decanters and bottles textured with intricate patterns, elegant wine glasses of varying shapes and sizes. His favourites, however, had been the collection of sculpted sea creatures that had always sat in the left window, arranged in a colourful ocean scene. He'd used the mora given to him for his birthday one year to buy his sister an adorable little seahorse that she had treasured until the end. He wonders, now, when the glassmith died - if his shop continued on after his death, what happened to all of those beautiful sculptures.

He's about to interject, sensing the approach of a lull in the ramblings of the other, to answer the question posed to him, when he feels the hand upon his shoulder shift, skim down his back - and all coherent thought stutters into a standstill inside his head.

There's an instant heat that prickles over his skin, as if that single, simple touch has set every nerve aflame. Breath is drawn sharply between his lips, hitching in his throat - such an intimate touch, and in public no less. There is something of a claim in the placement of Kaveh's hand, the way it lingers against him.

And he likes it.

Perhaps, if one looked close enough, there might be the faintest tint of colour in the former captain's face as he subtly leans into the man beside him. A hand lifts, reaches for the other's waist - then hesitates, and drops back to his side. Too soon.

Swirling blue and purple slowly shifts to meet maroon, the repeated question finally registering once more in his distracted mind. "Oh, um... yes..." Archons, pull yourself together, idiot. He attempts a subtle clearing of his throat, swallows down the breath still hitched there. "It, uh... it used to be owned by a glassmith. The kilns were located at the back there, where the roof extends out. And do you see the lamps affixed to the shop front? Those were made by the owner - unless they have been replaced since, but they look like the ones I remember."

Maybe he is riding the thrill of the hand at his back, or maybe he is simply getting bolder - but as Vautrin steps away (somewhat reluctantly) to guide Kaveh along to the nearest café to continue this discussion, as that hand is forced to fall away with the motion, gloved fingers catch the architect's and entwine.

Holdings hands in public. How far he's come. "How about I tell you more over lunch?"