[ Kaveh's attempt to talk is quickly forgotten in the face of the man's continued words, eyes fixed on the Vahumana insignia on the hat he wears, the architect trying to place how he knows him. Members of his darshan don't usually have much of a reason to undertake projects alongside scholars of aetiology, and it's been a while since he had anything to do with Akademiya scholars on a social level, especially now that he's busy hiding so much of his personal life from others. Yet there's something uncomfortably familiar about the man.
And it's something that becomes clearer as he keeps talking, moves closer into Kaveh's bubble and starts murmuring something about continuing where they left off, about the scribe being a thug, about the architect's enthusiasm—
The recognition settles in his stomach in the same moment as he catches sight of Alhaitham over the man's shoulder, sees the invisible fury etched into his decidedly-calm features, watches the thoughts play back over his face like a theater performance of which Kaveh should be ashamed. Heat starts to come into his cheeks, and his lips part once more as if to offer some sort of explanation— what if his partner thinks he's allowing this to happen, seeking affection from someone else just because he can?— but they snap shut again in the next moment, silenced in the face of Alhaitham's words.
Sadly, the same is not true for the man crowded into his space, who meets the scribe's eyes with smug amusement in his own, an expression that says he has nothing to fear even in the face of that anger (and seriously, Kaveh is starting to wonder how any of these people got into the Akademiya in the first place when they're so stupid in the face of his boyfriend's irritation).
"So you own the Akademiya now?" he drawls, seemingly unperturbed by the taller man's fury. "I think it's clear I have just as much a right to be here as you. This is the House of Daena, last I checked, not the House of Asshat— If the Light of Kshahrewar wants to spend time with me, here, who's to stop him?"
A hand touches his behind, a deliberate grasp out of nowhere, and the man is halfway into a statement about freeing themselves from such pathetic company when Kaveh shakes him off, takes a step or two back as quickly as if he's been burned, anger coming to light in his own eyes.
Seriously, how could he have thought for even a moment that this guy was a good substitute for Alhaitham—? ]
You're assuming I want to spend time with you— [ he says, and he really should say the guy's name but to this moment he doesn't remember it ] —which I don't. I was drunk that night; the moment has passed. I'm not interested.
[ It should be enough to end the conversation.
It's not.
The man chases him a step, that same faux-concern in his eyes that he wore at the start of the conversation, when he asked if Kaveh was okay. "Come on, baby," he says. "You don't have to pretend you don't want me. This jerk can't bully you here." ]
no subject
And it's something that becomes clearer as he keeps talking, moves closer into Kaveh's bubble and starts murmuring something about continuing where they left off, about the scribe being a thug, about the architect's enthusiasm—
The recognition settles in his stomach in the same moment as he catches sight of Alhaitham over the man's shoulder, sees the invisible fury etched into his decidedly-calm features, watches the thoughts play back over his face like a theater performance of which Kaveh should be ashamed. Heat starts to come into his cheeks, and his lips part once more as if to offer some sort of explanation— what if his partner thinks he's allowing this to happen, seeking affection from someone else just because he can?— but they snap shut again in the next moment, silenced in the face of Alhaitham's words.
Sadly, the same is not true for the man crowded into his space, who meets the scribe's eyes with smug amusement in his own, an expression that says he has nothing to fear even in the face of that anger (and seriously, Kaveh is starting to wonder how any of these people got into the Akademiya in the first place when they're so stupid in the face of his boyfriend's irritation).
"So you own the Akademiya now?" he drawls, seemingly unperturbed by the taller man's fury. "I think it's clear I have just as much a right to be here as you. This is the House of Daena, last I checked, not the House of Asshat— If the Light of Kshahrewar wants to spend time with me, here, who's to stop him?"
A hand touches his behind, a deliberate grasp out of nowhere, and the man is halfway into a statement about freeing themselves from such pathetic company when Kaveh shakes him off, takes a step or two back as quickly as if he's been burned, anger coming to light in his own eyes.
Seriously, how could he have thought for even a moment that this guy was a good substitute for Alhaitham—? ]
You're assuming I want to spend time with you— [ he says, and he really should say the guy's name but to this moment he doesn't remember it ] —which I don't. I was drunk that night; the moment has passed. I'm not interested.
[ It should be enough to end the conversation.
It's not.
The man chases him a step, that same faux-concern in his eyes that he wore at the start of the conversation, when he asked if Kaveh was okay. "Come on, baby," he says. "You don't have to pretend you don't want me. This jerk can't bully you here." ]