[drrutherford]

"Amusing?... Maybe if my head was on a spike." Gideon responds with a grimace. It is hardly the sentimental sort of imagery that should be conjured on a night like this one, but the pragmatist in him can't help it. Thought if he thinks he'd do poorly with Hasan's father, he knows the Turk's right in surmising he'd fare no better with Lara.

"Maybe in another lifetime, Demir. In this one, I'll forfeit the philosophical merit of that theory if it means I get to keep a head on my shoulders—no offense, of course."

With that, he tries to steer the conversation into less choppy waters. "Not the biggest fan of Monaco, then?" It's a rhetorical question, Hasan's hardly been subtle in his assessment of what the city-state promises. "Don't worry, I've no intention of performing for anyone on this date, much less every passing eye. I'll count myself lucky just to keep a low profile and not steal too many glances at my watch all the while."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan gave a small shrug, one shoulder rising like he wasn’t quite willing to commit to the gesture. “Maybe it’s just sour grapes talking. Half of me thinks I should have staged something so lavish it made even a Rutherford bookkeeper nervous, really leaned into the spectacle of it.”

A faint smile flickered, there and gone. “But I think I would end up a guest in my own evening. A date ought to feel lived in. Something that settles properly, not just something impressive to recount later. If Monaco does that for you, I won’t hold it against you, well, not more than I already might.”

He exhaled softly through his nose, gaze drifting for a moment before returning. “I imagine you didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway. Expectations and all that. And a contest like this, I think I made my peace with losing it before it started. I’m just glad it didn’t go entirely unclaimed.”

At the mention of family, something in his posture tightens just a fraction, subtle but there. “You’re not exactly at the top of my father’s list,” Hasan said, tone careful but not cold, “so I suppose that counts for something.”

A beat, then a softer addendum. “But you’re right. Not tonight. Bad timing, bad omens.”

[theo-commandant]

When Hasan said that his hands rarely stay still without something to occupy them, Théodore's eyes glanced down to the cigarette in one of them. His own taking a final drag before tapping out the last of the ash from the butt of it and snuffing it out. Arching a brow at how Hasan explained the preference to cold showers. Half of his lips tugging up into a smirk, "You never..." he hummed in thought, lingering as his hand went to Hasan's, "warmed a bed with strangers?" he chuckled as his thumb brushed across sofly, "Not even acquittances?" and nodded along, "Why not voice them? Write them?" Théo asked in a whisper, "I promise I won't tell a soul, if I should be so lucky enough to ever hear these things. Read them."

[hasan-demir]

"Not never," Hasan said, letting a slow breath escape, "just not recently enough for my own taste. Cold showers feel safer with the present company and with the ties that come with most strangers." He gestured subtly to the event, the crowd around them, the unspoken consequences of taking home the wrong person. His eyes flicked back to Théodore, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Sometimes I do voice things, if they’re worth it. Journals, scraps, words meant only for my own eyes. A voice that stays mostly inside or only comes out after too many drinks. Those aren’t secrets you reveal without a cost or an exchange."

[oscar-velholobo]

With a hearty laugh, Óscar nodded, "Free food? Isn't that what all these events are ever good for?" he asked teasingly before shaking his head, "But I'm sorry the last one didn't go well. If sparks were to fly, what qualities would your date have? Or...what would you look for? Want?"

[hasan-demir]

Hasan gave a small, wry smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone who doesn’t mind a bit of grime," he said, shrugging. "Not easily scared off by… the business, you know? Curious, kind, maybe a little stubborn in a good way. I guess, someone I can genuinely enjoy being around."

[theo-commandant]

Hasan saying that he is only half there has Théodore raising an eyebrow. His gaze trailing to where his had gone back to the ballroom. A laugh, almost a slight scoff at those sorry souls in there, passing his lips, "You're not wrong, mon ami."

Nodding, Théo lifted the cigarette to his lips; feeling the end of it soon. Taking a long drag. Finding no reason to rush. Holding his breath and letting the smoke out to the side before looking back to Hasan, "Would it be fair to say that everyone has a few bad habits? The restlessness can sometimes be mine," he chuckled and slid his hand along the railing. His knuckles sliding against the cool metal, "Normally, I bind a book instead. Keep my hands busy. Occasionally try to find someone he needs a warm bed for a night," he smiled, "And you? Ever get restless?"

[hasan-demir]

"Restless, yes. My hands rarely stay still when there is nothing to occupy them, so I pace or fiddle with whatever is at hand, a pen, a book, a glass of water. I am not much for binding books, though I appreciate the discipline it offers; poetry, philosophy, and literature are better savored than constructed. Warm beds for strangers? Hardly. I tend toward cold showers instead, a habit less charitable, more honest, I suppose. Keeping busy, even with trivialities, is the only way to quiet certain thoughts. It works sometimes, less so at others. I wander the margins of rooms, linger on passages of a poem in my head, contemplate arguments I will never voice, or notes I will never write. A far cry from heroism, perhaps, but it keeps me from drifting entirely."

[oscar-velholobo]

Óscar nodded with a kind smile, "Ah, sí, the nurse, right?" then blinked, "You're already spoken for? By who?" he asked before thinking, then waved his hand, "Lo siento," he corrected himself with English quickly, "Sorry," the bodyguard titled his head, "I don't mean to pry. But I do hope, even if there are no sparks, that you are indeed comfortable. And have a good time."

[hasan-demir]

"Not strictly spoken for, no. Honestly, I’m not expecting much. Charity event, fancy clothes, nurses from Berkley. Last Valentine’s didn’t exactly go well either. But I guess I can try to enjoy it. Just don’t read too much into it. I’m mostly here for the cause and the free food."

[theo-commandant]

Théodore let a wicked grin spill across his lips. Thoroughly entertained. Tapping the cigarette against the railing to get rid of the ashes and then letting his hand rest near Hasan's. His pinkie brushing; barely ghosting; across skin, "To guess, of course," he chuckled and then looked over to the other with a mirrored expression, "Tonight? Tristement...we both have dates. But after Morocco?" his voice now carried the bemusement as well, leaning in, "I'd happily fund a night or two in the same riad, if you'd like to join. Otherwise, save a pub-just for me-to show off."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan hums softly, considering, the smoke thinning as it rises. “If I had to guess,” he says, “I’d say you’re only half here.” His eyes flick briefly toward the ballroom, then return, amused. “Present enough to play your part, absent enough to keep the evening from claiming you.” A pause, thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Morocco sounds like something you’re looking forward to. Tonight feels… transitional.” His fingers tap the rail again, unhurried. “Which makes you interesting company, at least for conversation. Tell me, is that restlessness a habit, or is tonight an exception?”

[oscar-velholobo]

"Bien," Óscar chuckled, "Let's hope it does well. Who are you taking out again?" and then shook his head with a grin, "Carlos Fuentes was always a favorite of my mother's. I'm not much of a reader, but I have broken the spine of my copy's 'Destiny and Desire' novel from him."

[hasan-demir]

“Nora Berkeley,” Hasan replied. “She’s kind. I took her out last auction, though I think I’d already been spoken for, in reputation if nothing else.” He shrugged lightly. “I’m not expecting sparks. I’m hoping for a comfortable evening that doesn’t ask too much.”

[drrutherford]

He's partial to philosophy, although completely hopeless when it comes to poetry. Both as a writer and as an appreciator, akin to more artistic souls. Including, apparently, Hasan.

"What do ya mean the date's a test run??... You're going with Nora, though it pains me to inform you. It's been ages since I've done a pub crawl—I'd swap out either one of you in a heartbeat, if I could." Preferably swapping out Hasan, but then, he'd have been willing to take the man's company as well, if it meant getting to stay local and do more relaxing and less... Everything. Everything glitzy and over the top that comes with Monaco.

"Alas, it isn't meant to be. Good thing, too. Else next thing you know, we'll be running off into the sunset together." He gives the Turk a flat look. "Bet your father would love that."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan leaned back slightly, letting a smirk slowly curve his mouth. “My father would probably find this all amusing,” he said, voice dry and deliberate. “Monaco, eh? Trading the theatre of the hospital for glittering, over-the-top, exhausting promenades. I can’t say I envy the chandeliers and sunsets, though my pub crawls have a certain honesty, the kind that spares one from performing for every passing eye.” His gaze flicked to Dr. Rutherford, teasing as the smirk fully asserted itself. “As for you, I imagine you’d have to convert, resign yourself, if I may, to being the bottom. I can’t say either of us are truly ready for that level of submission, though there is a curious, almost philosophical merit to it.” He chuckled softly. “Small mercy. Some pleasures, after all, are measured, not flaunted. Your sister, on the other hand, would likely have far less approving words.”

[theo-commandant]

Théodore’s gaze follows Hasan's over the city lights. The cigarette warming the knuckles that held it in place betwixt his fingers. Lifting it slowly to take another drag. Inhaling deeply. Ah yes, Haringey...the commandant pondered on that briefly. Letting the smoke out slowly.

"So then answer me this," Théo glanced to Hasan, "What do you think I'm saying without offering?" His gaze flicked to the event back inside, "All of them?"

Théo grins at the other, "I do love a bit of scorching every now and again," he admitted freely with a breathless chuckle.

[hasan-demir]

Hasan inhales deeply, letting the smoke linger in his lungs a moment longer than necessary before exhaling slowly, the tendrils curling around him like a question. His fingers drum lightly on the balcony rail, deliberate, precise. “Depends,” he says, voice low, each word weighed. “Are you asking me to guess or to step in?” His gaze locks on Théodore, sharp but amused. “Because one is harmless curiosity, a game to play. The other could leave scorch marks neither of us forgets. So tell me, what are you offering tonight?”

[theo-commandant]

The dry amusement in Hasan's voice caught Théodore’s ears. His attention fully on the other once again. Trying to guess what had 'tainted' — no — 'influenced' his. What of nature had? The overcast skies and plentiful rainfall of London?

"What keeps yours from going stagnant then, hmm?" Théo hummed playfully, "Who, or what, influences you?"

Watching Hasan take another drag, Théo did the same. Mirroring Hasan. His gaze on the soft glow of embers at the tip of the cigarette. Only peering down at the matchbox when the other's gaze flickered there. A soft rumble of laughter bubbling deep in his chest, "A, mon ami, I would rather learn what it's like to burn than feel nothing at all."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan exhales slowly, smoke curling upward before the wind worries it apart. “Stagnant isn’t quite the word,” he says, thoughtful. “I think it’s more about remembering where you come from, and what shaped the way you look at things.”

His gaze drifts past the balcony, toward the city lights softened by mist. “Growing up around Haringey has a way of keeping you alert. It isn’t gentle, but it’s honest. You learn to listen there, to people and to silences, to notice what’s being said without being offered.”

He taps ash away, watching the ember flare. “I don’t mind heat,” he adds, eyes returning to Théo. “I just prefer it when it leaves you wiser, rather than solely scorched.”

[oscar-velholobo]

"Sounds like pleasant enough plans," Óscar smiled, "Poor form, perhaps, but could still be fun," he chuckled, "One of these days, we should meet for a drink at one of these historic pubs. You can tell me all about it and your date."

[hasan-demir]

Hasan let out a soft laugh. “One of these days, certainly. I’m behaving myself tonight, though, tomorrow deserves a clear head,” he said, smiling. “Still, I’d be curious about your tastes. Do you have a penchant for any particular writer, or a kind of poetry that draws you in?”

[oscar-velholobo]

Óscar gave a nod of approval. And understanding. Ever since he came to London, the factions were far more noticeable than in Porto. Felt even in mere conversation.

"Oh," the bodyguard feigned relief dramatically, "Much appreciated," he chuckled, "So, what are your plans after this Valentine's Day event?"

[hasan-demir]

“Well, I’m spoken for tomorrow,” Hasan said easily, “but after the event, not much is planned.”

He gave a small, thoughtful shrug. “It feels a bit redundant to go out drinking after free access to top-shelf liquor, so who knows. I might work on a few things for the date. Put pen to paper. Or call it an early night so I don’t miss the evening I’ve already planned.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Showing up tired or hungover feels like poor form.”

[theo-commandant]

"Well, if it is to you, that's all that should matter. No?" Théodore grinned as he played with the small box of matches. His fingers itching to strike one. Simply to feel the warmth of a flame. But he stopped himself. Falling further into the description Hasan was giving. Then, leaned over to him, "You should just write. Put pen to paper and finesse later. Sometimes the best scripts are when the mind is off in memory rather than chasing another's voice. I know I'd like to read Hasan Demir's voice. Untainted."

[hasan-demir]

“Untainted?” Hasan repeated, the word carrying a hint of dry amusement. “Aren’t all voices tainted, by nature, by nurture, by a thousand small collisions on the way to making a life? That concoction is what gives writing its bite. Borrowed or earned, every writer needs a voice, or they risk going stagnant.”

He took another drag from his cigarette, whether to satisfy the nicotine or let the pause sharpen his point even he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Looks like someone’s taking the flames of passion a bit literally,” he added, eyes flicking to the matches. “Just make sure you don’t get burned, or leave yourself without a light for later. Playing with fire can be fun though the pleasure is fleeting."

[theo-commandant]

Théodore shook his head, "No, I was more interested in if the research was worth it to you rather than the bid," he flashed a smile over to Hasan before taking a large inhale and holding the smoke. After a moment, he exhaled away from their faces and said, "Certainly achieved those goals in your offer, mon ami," he chuckled, "If I could have bid, I would have on yours. Maybe the abandoned theater if I was feeling a bit adventurous. Or perhaps that would be reckless?"

[hasan-demir]

“Yes, I would say it was worth it to me. I haven’t written anything yet—at least nothing I would call truly worth reading—and it’s a little frustrating, I admit. Perhaps any story I might produce would be too simple, too straightforward, lacking the depth of the great authors I tend to admire. I keep finding myself channeling long-forgotten poets, philosophers, and novelists, trying to echo their voices, while I’ve yet to fully realize or understand my own. But there is value in the attempt, I think, in the searching itself.”

[oscar-velholobo]

With a nod, the bodyguard listened attentively. And with an arch of his brow, he asked kindly, "What's your favorite Dickens story then?" he then chuckled softly, "Hope the date goes very well for you then. Sounds like a fun and interesting night."

[hasan-demir]

“Lately, I’ve been leaning toward A Tale of Two Cities. An epic with a charged city and factions at odds just feels, poignant, reflective of our own situation. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to introduce any of your clients to the sharp female.”

[drrutherford]

LOCATION — The Barbican Centre. DATE — Friday, February 13th, 2026. STARTER — Closed for @hasan-demir

London Pubs and the Curtain Club ... It won't be winning any awards for creativity, but there's a coziness to it that Gideon can more than appreciate, the older he gets.

"You're lucky it wasn't a mix of genders voting and being voted on, Hasan... 'Else you'd probably be going on that date with yours truly."

[hasan-demir]

“You enjoy poetry and philosophy, Gideon? Maybe something could be arranged.” A brief pause, thoughtful. “We can consider the date a test run.” He tilts his head. “Though I’m curious, when was the last time you went on a proper pub crawl?” (@drrutherford)

[theo-commandant]

Théodore listened to the explanation from Hasan carefully. The corners of his lips turning up into a smile ever so gradually. Genuinely interested in what the other had to say and more of his takes, "So then, monsieur, what other habits do you have? Good, bad, or otherwise..."

Once the book of matches was revealed, the commandant let out a little breath of joy, "It seems the fates are indeed kind," he took the small book between two long fingers accompanied by a whispered, "Merci beaucoup."

Then, lighting his cigarette, Théo took a long drag as he leaned against the railing, "Research?" he eyed the other behind long, dark lashes, "Do tell me these fascinating tales in your preparation for tonight. Because, I fear I must ask, was it worth it?"

[hasan-demir]

“That depends on how you define worth. I had my own fun canvassing old haunts around London, fewer dive bars, more historic corners where the dust feels earned. I think I found something worthwhile for myself, at least.

Whether it proves worthwhile for the bid or the date is another matter. I don’t expect to win against extravagant trips or private planes or yachts. I wanted to offer something different, something smaller, more attentive. When every outing looks like it should be audited, it must grow dull eventually. Or perhaps I was simply hoping for someone curious enough to value the same things. Whether that’s worthwhile, I suppose time will decide.”