"There you are." The prince says out loud, leaning against the portal of the door that led to Sylvain's bedroom- right next to his own. His arms were crossed over his chest- and coupled with his stern expression it seemed like a scold was ready to come for the Gautier heir. "Finding you is surely starting to become more and more difficult as time passes. I might have to give you a collar with a bell on it, or I may risk losing my friend."
Stepping away from the wall and towards the other male with a sigh, the prince's expression gradually softened. "I hope the ball has not treated you too badly." Dimitri just knew what most likely happened time and time again in the ball- it was to be expected, unfortunately. "It worries me more times that I can count, I will have you know." One angry lady can lead to an angry father. Or an angry mother. Or an angry sibling. Or even more angry ladies. And then…
Dimitri doesn't wish to think about it, he had witnessed Sylvain's battered face far too many times in their youth to want to think about it again.
Mere feet away from his friend, Dimitri sheepishly hands out a sizable package clumsily wrapped in half-ripped baby blue silk paper- clearly done by hands that lack grace and care. Inside were two objects.
The first was a brand new chess board, but the black stone was replaced with lapis lazuli- ultramarine gleaming with bits of gold. The other object was a horse plushie- but one that looked just like Sylvain's own steed. "We could play together one day again. As for the plush…ah…" Dimitri's cheeks flushed a deep pink. Fool, Sylvain is a grown man now. He didn't need something to cuddle with. Yet still…"The lady who made it was very kind."
With the gifts now in Sylvain's hands, the prince fidgeted for a moment, words struggling to come as his gaze flickered around. When it finally settled back on the redhead's eyes, Dimitri's look was bashful, reminiscent of his younger years- but determination shone through. Conviction. "Whatever others may say about you, or whatever fate has in hands for you, know that I will always be there for you- both as your prince, and as your friend. Your battles are my own." A sure nod, followed by a warm smile. "Happy Birthday, my dear friend."
His door is never locked.
It's a convenience thing, mostly--left open so that his dearest friends may barge in to scold or lecture him at their leisure. No matter how ill advised it may be to do so, Sylvain never changes that way of his. He has his full faith in the church in their security.
That, and if someone wants so desperately to kill him that they may try to do so when he's unarmed and within his own space, well. Might as well give them a fair shot.
He knows Dimitri's approach, hears it in the door to the room beside him closing and then all three of the footsteps his highness has to take to reach Sylvain's own door. Feet have only just met the floor when the man himself is propped against the doorframe.
"I know that face," shoulders heave with a sigh, a hand carding through his hair while the other rests at his hip. Fitting, to open his birthday with a lecture. "Yeah, yeah. Ingrid has already pitched the suggestion. Verdict was that I'd be too annoying, jingling all the damn time. Besides, this face is easy enough to find in a crowd, no?"
The little attempt at a joke simply breezes past his prince. Figures. Guilt worms its way into Sylvain's stomach as the other expresses his worry. It isn't as though he is unaware of his own recklessness--quite the opposite, actually--but being reminded by Dimitri tends to hit harder than most.
"I'll be fine, Dima, seriously," laughter laces his tone, desperate to ease that seriousness that his company seems incapable of ever dropping. There's such a sincerity to his concern, laid so bare, that Sylvain has to swallow the kneejerk urge to shove it away entirely. "You don't need to waste your time worrying for me."
Dimitri's wrapping job is truly spectacular, and the laughter that rises from Sylvain as the package is passed into his own hands is no longer forced. "C'mon, you know I wasn't expecting anything." An appreciative little glance to the other's face before his thumb finds an already existing hole in the paper and finishes tearing.
Amber eyes warm at the chess board, widening just so. Expensive gifts don't do much to impress him, but it's the craftsmanship of this that awes Sylvain. Nearly as much as the intention behind it--it's the kind of gift only someone who knows him as well as Dimitri would give. "You'll kick my ass, but I'd love to play. It's been too long."
His attention turns then to the stuffed horse. Amusement drips into that gaze of his. "It's perfect. I'll call her Cotton junior."
Just when he's thought that his composure will be kept--that he can get all dumb and emotional about the gifts once his friend's back is turned--Dimitri just has to go on and speak again. Saying such things with all that damned sincerity of his again. Sylvain's cheeks warm.
Chess board and stuffed horse are set aside, forgotten atop his desk for a moment as he reaches instead for the prince. It's his birthday. He's allowed to demand a hug or two.
"Thank you, Dimitri. It means more than you know."
