#taking a break from wolgraha week fics to write wolhancock feels

[astrology-bf]

The Pathos of Things

(CW: Contains Spoilers for Stormblood)

A blond ijin wearing spectacles came to a halt out on the evening stroll that he was taking through the streets of the Rakuza District of Kugane. He thoughtfully cocked his head, then shifted out of the main thoroughfare and raised his right hand to his chin, his head slightly lowered; the very image of a man trying to remember if he’d left something at home. 

Behind the nearly opaque, red-tinted glass of Hancock’s shaded spectacles, however, the Ul’dahn broker’s eyes were squarely fixed across the street: staring into a streetside restaurant where a familiar, if recent, acquaintance was seated by himself.

The Warrior of Light sat slightly hunched over a table in the inexpensive-looking eatery, a pair of wooden chopsticks deftly grasped in his right hand with practiced ease. He seemed to be enjoying a bowl of noodles and some sake at a table up against the restaurant’s papered wall; though Hancock would have hesitated to use the word ‘enjoying’, based on what his keen ianthine eyes perceived despite Ifan’s back being turned towards the street.   

Hancock could see by how lazily Ifan was eating, and the way his head remained near motionless, that he was likely staring into space. He wasn’t even glancing down when reaching for his drink, keeping the lacquered cup and ewer within easy reach of his left hand. And he was by himself, as Hancock has noticed right away, which struck him as quite odd: the Warrior of Light had just made port in the Far East for the first time in his life that week, and in the company of folk that Hancock had been informed were his near-family no less. 

The broker lowered his right hand and straightened up so as not to look more suspicious than he usually did, and then he slowly raised his other hand to feign a slight adjustment of his spectacles and thereby allow himself a few more moments to discreetly scrutinize the other Midlander. 

His brow creased faintly in mirror of the nearly imperceptible frown crossing his lips as his eyes raked over Ifan’s posture. It was momentary, however, before Hancock resumed his usual casual grace and turned to make his way into the restaurant. He wove his way past a Roegadyn on her way out, and then approached the table where the Warrior of Light was sitting. 

Hancock indulged a final pause to examine him more closely, now that he had a much better view. He could indeed now see that Ifan was just blankly staring into space while he ‘enjoyed’ his meal alone, working his way through the bowl of spicy-looking noodles without even a book to occupy his mind. 

He supposed it was his business: Ifan was his guest, after all. So though he hesitated for moment, Hancock nodded once before he cleared his throat politely to announce his presence.

“Good eve, my friend. I hope I’m not interrupting.” he greeted, as he stepped up towards the table’s side. 

He had to fight back a small chuckle at the way the other Midlander started, his gaze flicking up to Hancock with noodles hanging from his mouth. But he couldn’t stop the smile that touched his lips at the display of manners as Ifan politely hid his mouth, so he could quickly finish off his mouthful before answering.

“Hancock. Traders’ blessings.” he greeted in return, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for his napkin. “Not at all. Please, have a seat.” Ifan gestured at the chair opposite him while wiping his lips, before giving Hancock a smile that was both friendly but still obviously forced.

“Much appreciated, if it isn’t an imposition.” replied Hancock, giving Ifan his usual grin along with a more genuinely thankful nod as he occupied the offered seat. 

“What brings you out here?” asked Ifan. He reached for his drink, but kept his eyes on Hancock as he spoke.

Hancock didn’t answer right away. His conscious mind was thanking Nald’thal for his glasses, as his unconscious mind was once again enchanted as it had been on the Long Pier a few days past.

Ifan had been born with beautifully expressive eyes. They were dark blue, near grey, which reminded Hancock of glazed cobalt on white porcelain, of indigo desaturated in fine brushwork across mulberry paper, and of the Ruby Sea itself which served as the magician’s backdrop when Hancock first beheld him. And like the ocean, the slightest breeze would shift the surface into glittering, surging, or storming as the Hyur’s mood dictated. 

The broker’s grin was usually affected, but he felt it grow a little wider than he practiced when he saw the way that Ifan’s eyes lit up when Hancock gently poked fun at the Scions’ displays of ignorance. He, like Hancock, clearly liked a witty man. And the very witty gold-haired ijin could see that Ifan was also very clever when he’d easily met the Ul’dahn broker’s ribbing with light banter. Hancock much preferred to see the playful sparkle in the other Hyur’s eyes when he was teasing people than…

He didn’t have a word for it. The way Ifan’s eyes looked in their resting state, much as they did at present beneath the overcast of suspicious curiosity at Hancock’s presence. Sodden, maybe? A dripping mess of glaze making the surface of the china rough, or paper oversaturated so that the brush tore through it, or as if the ocean that was Ifan’s eyes was somehow overfull. 

After brief pause he masked with an adjustment to his seat, Hancock gave Ifan a polite smile and folded his hands together on the table in a graceful resting posture.

“Much like yourself, the other Scions have found things to occupy their time.” he explained. “It seems I’ve been blessed with a spare evening, and I thought I might take a small constitutional.” His eyes were fixed on Ifan’s from behind his spectacles, but his head was slightly canted to help obscure where he was looking. 

Ifan’s own eyes were quite brazen as they wandered over Hancock, obviously scrutinizing him as the magician listened to his explanation. At length, he gave an amused huff. “Not following me, then?” he joked, giving the broker a friendly wink.

“Am I that untrustworthy?” asked Hancock, giving Ifan his typically untrustworthy grin.

“That damn smile of yours doesn’t help things.” answered Ifan in a pointed tease with a small shake of his head. Then he smiled more amiably. “I jest. Might have an ax or two to grind with Lolorito, but I’m sure you’re just doing your job. You’ve been a wonderful host, Hancock, thank you.” he said, giving the other Hyur an appreciative nod.

“I’m gratified to hear that, my friend. Truly.” said Hancock. His grin settled into a genuine smile, reminded as he was of Ifan’s friendliness despite the situation serving as the reason for him being in Kugane. Both his presence to foment rebellion against the Garlean Empire in Doma, as well as being the guest of Hancock’s employer and his company with whom Ifan and his friends had a… colorful history, if what he had been told was anything to go by. After another pause, he gave Ifan a small nod. “Is Kugane to your liking?” he asked.

“Very much. I’d read about Hingashi quite a bit, and even seeing a little piece of it…” answered Ifan with a nod as his own smile became warmer and more enthusiastic… for a moment, before it settled into something more sedate. “I only wish we were here under less, ah-” He trailed off, and pursed his lips.

“Complicated circumstances?” supplied Hancock, gently, as he gave Ifan a teasing smirk of reassurance.

“Aye. Thanks.” agreed Ifan with a snort and an appreciative smirk. Then he sat up a little straighter. “Can I buy you a drink?” he offered.

“I insist on buying yours, actually, along with your meal. I’d be a very discourteous host, otherwise.” countered Hancock in a tone that was as smooth and strong as silken fiber, followed by his usual grin.

Ifan blinked, then stared at Hancock for a moment as a barely noticeable pout pulled at his lips. Then he huffed lightly, and turned so he could flag down a server for a refill of sake and another cup for Hancock. The magician’s pout then widened to a flattened frown as he turned back to the still-grinning broker, then reached for his chopsticks.

“Too slick by half.” he muttered, resuming eating.

Hancock felt his grin exceed his practiced restraint, his cheeks aching a little at the sight of Ifan’s appreciative irritation; to say nothing of his skill with his utensils, as the broker’s eyes were drawn to the way the bronze-skinned fingers delicately grasped the slender wood. 

“You speak from personal experience, I take it?” he ventured, leaning forward slightly with his hands still resting on the table. Hancock let his eyes begin to wander behind his spectacles, as they usually did when he was in conversation, raking over Ifan’s clothes, face, and even noting the attention the man paid to both his beard and hair. 

“Maybe.” answered Ifan, after finishing another mouthful. He smirked humorlessly at himself and shook his head, then paused as his expression settled. The magician’s eyes flicked up to Hancock’s glasses before he gave the broker a wan and slightly worried smile. “I really appreciate it, Hancock. You’re not going to get into trouble with the Empire, are you?” he asked, lowering his voice a little.

Hancock’s eyes snapped back to Ifan’s right away, and he felt his own smile fade at the other Midlander’s tone and expression. Then he shook his head and looked at the Warrior of Light as reassuringly as he could muster. “There’s no need for undue concern about myself, my friend.” he replied, unable to stop either the confusion nor the gratitude from entering his voice. “Not that it isn’t appreciated, given our recent acquaintance.” 

Ifan let out a breath and nodded slowly. “I suppose you know your way around Hingan politics better than me, and Lolorito usually knows what he’s doing. All right, as long as it isn’t a problem.” he said, before taking another mouthful of his meal.

The server returned with a fresh ewer of sake and another cup, and though Ifan reached for it Hancock beat his guest to pouring two more servings for Ifan and himself. Raising the lacquered porcelain, they clinked the cups together in a silent toast before the Warrior of Light continued eating, and the broker of the East Aldenard Trading Company watched him from behind his spectacles.

“If you’ll indulge me…” said Hancock, at length. “I am a little surprised you’re out by yourself, and not with one of the other Scions.” The broker chased his words with a small sip of sake, though the hastiness with which he brought the cup up to his lips was telling.

Ifan gave no immediate answer, focusing on finishing his mouthful and spending those few moments thinking of how best to answer. Then his shoulders slumped a little as his gaze drifted to the side.  

“I’m not good company at the moment.” he stated, quietly.

Hancock couldn’t stop the knitting of his brow or the faint frown on his lips, nor the tightening of his fingers on the cup. “You seem more than pleasant enough to me, at least.” he replied, feeling unusually disarmed.

“I’m glad you don’t feel that I’m not grateful, really. But…” Ifan’s breath seemed to catch, and his fingers trembled slightly as they held his chopsticks. “I’ve always wanted to come to Othard. Especially with people I care about as much as the others. Here I am, and…” 

Hancock’s lips parted faintly at the way Ifan’s expression fell for a brief moment, and though his eyes were off towards the side the broker could see dark streaks of fear and guilt welling within them before Ifan forced his feelings down and shook his head.

“How are you?” he asked, looking back at Hancock suddenly and giving him a very forced, but still friendly smile. Then it became much more beseeching as the other Hyur’s eyebrows fell. “Please. I don’t want to make it all about me.” he implored, before digging for more noodles to keep his mouth too occupied to say anything further.  

It took the gold-haired ijin a few moments to reply. Hancock’s mouth twisted imperceptibly with worry before he shifted where he sat, leaned forward, and gave Ifan a casual smile. 

“I’m well enough, thank you for asking.” he replied, meeting Ifan’s gaze behind his spectacles. “The novelty of entertaining fine folk such as yourself is well appreciated, as is your company. Terrible as it is, at the moment.” he added, giving Ifan a teasing grin.

Ifan paused, then snorted around his noodles as he held back a small laugh. The broker joined him with a little chuckle, though his grin grew painfully wide again at seeing the small flare of mirth in the magician’s gaze as he reached for his napkin and wiped his lips. 

“Glad to hear that.” snickered Ifan. Then he looked over Hancock again and smiled more genuinely. “How did you end up here? Working for the company, I mean. If you don’t mind my curiosity.” he asked, then reached for his drink.

“I’m happy to share. Though…” he began. Hancock grinned again, but not of his usual sort; rather, an open and quite sheepish grin of hesitation with his gaze lazily cast off towards the side behind his spectacles. “I suspect you may think I’ve made it up to elicit sympathy from you, specifically.” added the broker, his eyes shifting back to Ifan.

Ifan stared at Hancock blankly, cup still raised in his left hand and chopsticks still balanced in his right. “...Well you can’t just say that and not tell me.” he said, at length. Then he smirked and shook his head. “Go on, then.”

Hancock took another drink. A much bigger one, though less hasty than that initial sip. Then he set the cup down, folded his hands, and smiled at the magician once again.

“I am from Ul’dah, like yourself,” he began. “We are roughly the same age. I’ve no knowledge of my parents, also like yourself. And, much like yourself, I owe my present calling and opportunity to enjoy this fine country to a very clever older Lalafellin man.” Hancock’s smile remained unchanging ‘till the last, when his lips twitched in a faint note of vulnerability. 

A heavy silence settled in the air between them after Hancock finished speaking. Ifan gazed at him inscrutably, setting his chopsticks down and taking a moment to top up both cups before he took another sip of his own drink. When he exhaled, it came as a soft and slightly rasping huff. 

“That so?” he asked, taking another drink.

Hancock’s smile widened wanly. “Indeed.” he answered. Then he hummed. “Should you find it believable.” added the broker, with a small cock of his head.

“I do.” replied the magician, without hesitating. His eyes hadn’t left Hancock, but the inscrutability of his expression shifted into thankful warmth. “I know how hard it is to share something like that with a stranger. ‘Tis appreciated, Hancock.” Ifan gave the other Midlander a nod. “I have to say, you’ve done very well for yourself. Very admirable.” he complimented.

“I should say the same of you.” observed Hancock. The hesitation in his face had faded as his good humor eased back, and he returned a gracious grin. “The Warrior of Light, no less.” he added.

His grin faded immediately at the way Ifan’s face fell, followed by the magician looking guilty and then trying to force himself back into confidence. “...Aye.” he answered, with a practiced smile as he picked up his chopsticks and began to finish off his bowl.

Hancock found his words deserted him for a short while, as he wondered why that observation would cause such a response. Nonetheless, he leaned forward towards Ifan. “I apologize if I’ve given cause for offense…” he offered.

Ifan gave Hancock a guilty look as he finished off his final mouthful. He wiped his lips, then shook his head. “It isn’t you, Hancock. I’m sorry.” he apologized. The Warrior of Light gazed off to the side as he reached for his cup, but didn’t raise it to his mouth just yet. Then his eyes flicked back to Hancock, and he smiled wanly.

“Do you want to be friends?” he asked, suddenly.

Hancock blinked behind his spectacles, taken aback, but his lips immediately pulled into a friendly smile out of sheer instinct. Then he swallowed slightly, and gave Ifan a little nod. “I’d like that a great deal.” he said earnestly. Then he paused, leaning forward a little further and giving Ifan a reassuring frown. “Not that I’m not appreciative of the offer, but might I ask why the suddenness?” he asked.

The Warrior of Light raised his cup to his lips and drained it. He sighed, looking down at his now empty bowl before his eyes drifted back up to Hancock’s glasses.

“I’m tired of losing people.” he admitted, voice heavy in a way that made the broker’s chest begin to tighten. “But I know that where we’re headed… I’m going to lose more people. I need to keep making friends, keep living life, and… you seem nice.” Ifan nodded slowly, his lower lip trembling near-imperceptibly, as the magician tried his best.

Another silence then diffused between them, but it was less heavy and more thoughtful. Hancock reached for his own cup, drained it slowly, then set it down. Then he reached up for his spectacles, and slid them off so Ifan could see both of his eyes clearly.

“As do you.” he replied, his violet eyes near-gleaming as they gazed over at the magician with both worry and infatuation. 

Much like Ifan, Hancock had been born with the unfortunate curse of having expressive eyes. His irises were an enchanting ianthine hue that drew the gaze, and they showed every emotion in his head and heart in how they softened or they hardened in mirror of his mood; to say nothing of the way they nearly crackled like raw levin when he allowed himself a twinge of irritation. Many might consider such an emotive gaze a blessing, but in his sometimes literally cutthroat line of work an obvious tell like Master Fitzgerald’s eyes were not an asset but a liability.

Hence, the spectacles. He’d learned well from Lolorito.

Ifan’s gaze was drawn to Hancock’s eyes immediately, and the broker saw the other Hyur’s lips part faintly at the sight of them. He wet his lips, swallowed, then gave the gold-haired ijin a half-smile that had a small cast of shyness to it.

“You have really pretty eyes.” he complimented, before he blinked and looked away.

"As do you." repeated Hancock as he grinned again; his usual grin, but the crinkling of his eyes betrayed his own small hint of bashfulness. A hint that grew as Ifan looked back at him appreciatively, the weight he carried in his gaze a little eased. 

At length, Ifan’s lips twisted pensively. Then he leaned forward, both arms resting on the table.  “I know we have a small conflict of interest.” he began, giving Hancock a nod as he kept his eyes on his. “But I like to think you also wouldn’t mind someone you can be your worst with.” 

Hancock’s grin had eased into a gentle smile. He canted his head, still leaning forward towards the other Hyur. “Is that the sort of friends you wish to be?” he asked, eyes softening as he did so.

Ifan returned an equally as gentle look, and he gave the other man a pointed hum. “I wish to have you as a friend.” he stated. “Even if that’s just a man I have a drink with, now and then. What do you wish for, Hancock?” asked Ifan, looking at him firmly.

The broker didn’t answer right away. He returned Ifan’s look, the only change in his expression being a slight widening of his smile. It became more thoughtful as he finally broke eye contact and glanced off to the side. Then, after a while, he nodded to himself and shifted his gaze back to meet the Warrior of Light’s.

“I wish to take you to the theater.” stated Hancock, with quiet confidence. “And then I wish to take you to the onsen.”

Ifan gazed at him in silence for only a few moments before smirking and huffing in amusement. “Very slick.” he said, though the little grin that followed showed his delight at the suggestion.

Hancock returned the grin for a moment before smiling at Ifan reassuringly. “It needn’t be more than two business partners having an evening off. I’d simply like to help you forget business for a night.” he clarified.

The magician’s lips pursed and his lips twisted as he looked away for a brief second. “What if I’d like to do things after the onsen?” he asked, looking back at Hancock with curious hesitation.

“I’d say…” began Hancock. His expression remained even, but his eyes raked up and down the other Midlander much as they did that morning on the pier. “I wouldn’t mind doing things prior to the theater. Should time permit.” Then he grinned again.

Ifan sucked on his tongue, then smirked as he gazed back at Hancock knowingly. “Not afraid of getting a little messy?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Hancock glanced off to the side to make sure no one was watching. Then he leaned forward over the table until their faces were mere ilms apart, before giving Ifan a wry smirk.

“Eastern garb has its advantages, my dear friend.” replied Hancock, in a very sultry whisper. Then he leaned back with that prior grin, but indulged a little wink.

An enthusiastic hum rolled out of the magician’s chest. “I don’t own any.” said Ifan, cocking his head breezily.

“I’m certain we can find a valid justification for expensing new attire to the company.” countered the broker, smoothly. Hancock’s grin settled into a look of carefully affected genteel indifference, despite the subject matter. “A desperately needed change of clothes, perhaps.” he suggested, with a playful flicker in his violet eyes.

Ifan returned a teasing smirk. He enjoyed it for a few moments before his face fell slightly, taking on a somewhat suspicious cast as he looked over Hancock once again. 

“...You really want to do this?” he asked, eyes welling visibly with vulnerability. “You’re not just being… told to. Or doing it out of pity?” Ifan wet his lips as both his hands began to tremble imperceptibly. 

Hancock’s gaze flicked to Ifan’s hands for just a moment. Then he unfolded his, and reached over to gently brush his fingertips against the other man’s. His manicured, fair-skinned digits were stark against the rougher, bronze-skinned fingers, much more so as the Warrior of Light had painted arcane sigils on his nails. Roughened only by experience, however, as Hancock could immediately feel how gentle Ifan’s grasp was as he let the broker thread their fingertips together in between it.

He gave Ifan a smile, and tilted his head a little. “What do my eyes tell you?” he asked, quietly.

The other Ul’dahn orphan looked at Hancock carefully, his blue eyes gazing into Hancock’s violet as they searched for his feelings… and found them easily. 

Ifan swallowed. His hand shifted forward until his fingers were threaded between the broker’s, and Hancock’s digits brushed against one of the fingerless gloves he wore as the broker felt his hand being given a gentle squeeze.

“That you’d like a little company, as well.” he stated, giving Hancock a nod. He gazed at him affectionately and tilted his head sympathetically. “Is it lonely, out here?” asked Ifan.

Hancock’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes lowered briefly. “One’s nature as an ijin is sadly immutable, however much one tries to integrate.” he admitted, quietly. “Nor can I say the battlefield of business is a fertile ground for…” His normal eloquence deserted him, and his smile tightened for a moment before settling, as he looked back up at Ifan pointedly. “I’d like to get to know you, Ifan. The real you, not the man in the dossiers.” he said.

“Dossiers, hm?” hummed Ifan, giving Hancock’s hand a little squeeze.

The broker grinned again, but then chuckled mirthlessly. “I’m nothing if not fastidious about my research. All the better to serve you and the others, in my duty as your host.” he explained. 

“Can’t say I blame you, even if I am a little curious as to what’s in that dossier of mine.” replied the magician with a snicker and a wink.

“Company secrets, sadly.” answered Hancock with a sage nod and his usual look, though his eyes were gleaming deviously.

The magician snorted, then shook his head as he returned a grin. “No doubt.” he agreed. Then he smiled warmly. “I’d like to get to know the man behind the glasses, too. I’m sure you have a lot of great stories about Hingashi.” His own eyes still carried that sodden look, but Hancock smiled at seeing the stirring of enthusiasm and excitement in their wine-dark depths. 

“We have all night.” promised the broker. Then he smirked. “That is, of course, assuming we aren’t otherwise too occupied to speak.” The disclaimer was accompanied by yet another sagely nod, along with a very unsagelike brushing of one zori-wearing foot against the other Hyur’s ankle. 

Ifan’s smile grew into a playful half-grin. He tilted his head, then reached for the ewer with his other hand and shook it so he could gauge how much of the sake they had left. Then he nodded, and poured the last two cups before he squeezed the broker’s hand again.

“Very well, Master Fitzgerald.” he said, matching Hancock’s expression as his eyes gazed into the other man’s enraptured at the gleaming amethyst lit by the restaurant’s lantern light, fixed as they were into the rainy sapphire of the Warrior of Light’s. “I’m in your capable hands.”