Once again, Hans manages to make a fool of himself, but maybe a distraction could work -- anything to pull Henry away from whatever causes that darkness in his eyes.
-x-
If he could, he’d learn everything there was to know about Henry. He’d see it all and still hunger for more.
Still, perhaps a distraction is in order. He pulls his eyes away from Henry and pretends to stare wistfully into the distance.
“...In hindsight, it makes sense,” Hans muses. Henry glances his way, curiosity overcoming the lingering sorrow in his eyes. He pushes on, fighting the smile that threatens to pull at his lip. “I always knew when Henry was in town – I could smell you before I saw you.”
Henry scoffs, surprised, and he rolls his eyes, but most importantly he’s smiling– “Oh come off it, I wasn’t that bad–”
Hans prattles on, voice edging into the melodramatic; easier now as they slip into another bit of wood, bracketed on either side by rolling hills that help to block the worst of the stench. “Of course, I’d heard tales of the unwashed peasantry, but–”
“Unwashed? ’Unwashed,’ he says!” Henry’s shoulders shake with his laughter. “I may not have been able to afford the baths, but I always made sure to wash up in a river or a trough before venturing into one of your fancy castles! And, and,” there’s a twinkle to his eye, a joy in his voice that’s infectious, “from what I remember, a certain lordling didn’t exactly smell of roses when I rescued him from some Cumans–”
“The gall of you! I have never been anything but pristine in my entire life, as befitting of my station.”
Henry’s grinning now, his smile stretching from ear to ear. It’s the best he’s looked in ages. “That certainly wasn’t the case at Trosky–!”
There was a time where Hans would have been mortified for others to know of his humiliation, but in this moment, he cares not at all. Who here is going to judge him? Henry, who has supported him every step of the way, even when they both were at each other’s throats? Adder, whom he’s walked in on three times mid fuck in the mere fortnight he’s known him? Or Janosh, who more often than not is elbow deep in the animal guts he uses to make his sausages? Hell, just last night Kubyenka was pissing in the fireplace in front of them all without an ounce of shame!
Hans looks down his nose at Henry with all the faux condescension he can muster. “You have no witnesses.”
Still chuckling, Henry scratches at his chin, his eyes distant, thoughtful, but no longer grieving. “True. I don’t think I left any.”
-x-
Get caught up here: Per Tenebras
Start at the beginning : Peripetia
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