The factory is legally mine now, by the way. I'd like to thank you for your assistance, so why not drop by one evening? I have a surprise (that you'll be pleased by) to show you, and besides.
What do you drink? Let's share one in my "penthouse".
(And because I can guess your distaste, it's not actually a penthouse. I've just made my apartment the top floor, since why pay for two places, right?)
Thatās right. I assume that means āsee you soonā~.
[ Because Hugo, completely incorrectly, assumes that Silco will do something, well. Somewhat reasonable. He imagines him floating over the gate, maybe picking the lock on the front door, then viola, elevator to the top just to make a point. For everyone else thatās stopped by, Hugo goes down to meet them, but for Silco, he feels like the man will make a challenge out of this just because.
Heās more correct than he expects.
Hugo so completely doesnāt expect Silcoās course of action here that it offers a peek into a completely unguarded version of Hugo. He doesnāt keep up the glamor while heās alone, most notably. Itās nothing new to Silco at this point, but as much as heās clearly keen to keep up an appearance of respectability, itās at least notable that thereās a lapse on his own. Thereās whiskey glasses and a little metal bucket that presumably has ice on the table, but as Hugo sits and waits, heās drawing with a calm, focused expression.
Which immediately snaps once Silco knocks on the window. Hugo almost jumps out of his (not-)skin in sharp surprise, and his pencil drags a long, frazzled line across his work in progress. His attention snaps up to the window, but between the reaction and how quickly his expression just turns exasperated, itās honestly comical.
He shakes his head, clearly sighs heavily, but makes his way over to the window all the same. He starts to mess with some of the mechanisms, and though itās muffled through the glass, his words are still clear enough. ]
How the hell do you open theseā¦?
[ He hasnāt tried! Itās cold now, and as his thick curtains attest, these windows are all very covered during the day where it might be enjoyable. Heās about to tell Silco to just go to the damn door when a heavy latch slides into place, and heās finally able to swing it out. ]
[ He also used a lot of clambering that he would rather nobody saw to understand how he got up here. A man like him couldn't be seen doing that, but the effect when he appeared where he shouldn't was worth it. Especially when Hugo's left without his glamour, and he can see what effects his soul has wrought on him.
It's different than Silco. Oh, to be fair, not Better, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were spectral. There was a certain...deterioration that came with their soul, but that was the point of the glamor, wasn't it? It allowed them to hide in plain sight, even while the rest of their fellow augmented became more monstrous by the moment.
Then again, they already were monsters.
Silco stepped in with an overly-confident smile, only half-mocking. His boots made a soft 'tmp' on the ground, when he landed. ]
I would have though the windows would be the first thing you secured. A potential escape route, and all.
[ And what effects they are. There are the parts that Silco has seen beforeāthe dark eyes, the strange, red-blue aura of his skinābut thereās also more on display for the simple fact that heās dressed more casually than he usually is. Heās like Silco in that respect where itās clear from how he carried himself that he preferred to be dressed well when heās out, and coincidentally, his style tended towards conservative. Yet here at home, itās a loose dress shirt and his slacks without any of the other accoutrement.
So, with his shirt partially unbuttoned for his own comfort, it shows more bone underneath. His ribcage shines underneath his skin, and along the bones are spindly, black threads that radiate outwards from the inside of it. Where his heart sat, thereās clearly something, since thereās a dim purple light, but itās not visible.
Also, since the last time heād seen Silco, his transformation had also completely finished. Most of that lays hidden under his clothes, but the last little touch thatās easily visible is the pale, ghostly glow in his hair. The end of his long hair and a few of the bangs that frame his face emit the dim light. ]
Sure, but itās still not exactly what I expectedā¦
[ He closes the window after Silco, and it takes a little effort because of how heavy it is. But with a sigh, he gestures and leads the way to the table that heās already set up for them to drink at. While he walks, he buttons up his shirt, but itās more for feeling a little slovenly than any feeling of self-consciousness. Itās hard to feel that way when youāre hanging out with the man that drowned you. ]
But honestly, Iām more concerned about securing the lower levels at the moment, so I have to focus my efforts there. The art is valuable.
[ He shrugs as he takes a seat, then reaches into the bucket with the tongs to put ice into his own glass. ]
After all, if I need to escape, Iām not above breaking windows.
Oh, and you worry a thief would think to steal from you, would you?
[ He says it with a little laugh, as if he thinks it's funny that anyone would consider it. Then again, he wonders how much of it is legitimate, and how much is stolen, if any. He knows Hugo prefers valuables for stealing, and liberating them from the wealthy is always an option. As he follows Hugo, his eyes trail from him, and the changes, to the rest of the room, as if they could tell a story about the man, and who he was.
Silco, for instance, kept his space sparse and uninviting. The knife on his desk was a reminder to all that he would kill them if needed, and that he was not to be underestimated. Even as he watches outward, and conceals all his actions as best he can.
Better that the threat is implied than overt, after all. ]
It is interesting, the mark we are leaving on this world, and what we are choosing to do with it. [ He sets the bottle down, and lets Hugo pour the first drink. ] We have both, thus far, built something.
Where do you see this venture of yours going, precisely?
[ The overall first impression of the place is that itās roomy, but itās because most of the furniture and decorations here donāt quite fit the space. Itās absolutely the spaciousness that comes from upscaling oneās space, because everything here was moved from his old apartment to this penthouse. The fixtures and architecture are interesting and even a little refined, since the former landlord had planned to charge a premium for this place. Hugo is slowly working on making it his own.
The latter portrait has a vase underneath it with fresh flowers.
Naturally, Hugo doesnāt miss how Silcoās eyes drift over him and over his place, but heās not worried about Silco seeing those sentimental things. Heād invited him here and hadnāt moved them first, after all. ]
I do. Itās not like I have the reputation for them to reconsider.
[ āYetā, his tone implies. He takes the bottle with a nod, and he starts to prepare Silcoās drink as well. Heās a little surprised that Silco lets him, but he imagines watching it be done helps soothe his paranoia. ]
But I see it going the same place as it did for me at home, honestly. Itās a cover. A veil of respectability.
[ He slides Silcoās drink across the table with a nod, then finishes up his own. ]
It works remarkably well. Not once did I ever have the police sniffing my way as a suspect, and that seems all the more necessary now.
[ It's not so much an extension of trust as it is a test. Silco isn't blind to the little slights of hand and tricks that led to false pours or additions to drinks. Growing up in Zaun, one learned all the little things to look out for, and the sleight of hand was something that he'd long-understood in terms of the how, even if he wasn't as quick as he used to be.
There's something about having lost the skill physically, but maintaining the knowledge that seemed to stick. He hadn't quite lost it yet, and probably wouldn't, now. Hell, if he practiced, he would probably be perfectly fine again, with how the soul in him seems to want to move swift, like a viper. ]
Amazing how far a little bit of respect goes, isn't it?
[ He takes the drink.
He still sniffs before he takes a sip. Tests it. Then takes another. ]
It's fortunate that you can. Though, I suspect, compared to some augmented, a respectable soul is easy to look past, isn't it?
[ As soon as Hugo catches onto how Silco is watching him, his gestures do get more open. He tosses him a wry little smile—a ānothing to worry aboutā—but. Admittedly, he does take a tiny bit of pride in the idea that Silco would even be worried about his sleight of hand. Even if itās just his paranoia, heāll take it. ]
Respect and good manners. Honestly, the latter is what opens up many closed doors when Iām working~.
[ Thatās probably obvious to Silco at this point. Hugo is amiable in general, but heās also able to wield even that like a weapon. Heās disarming and charming, and it works to his benefitā¦ When he wants it to, at least.
He takes a sip of his own whiskey once itās poured, and he makes an approving little sound after. Not bad. This must be an area where Silco does care about finer things, surprisingly. ]
But if you mean the glamor, yes. My eyes, ears, and fangs still draw some wayward looks, but itās nothing compared to— [ He gestures with his free hand, just to show the roll of his wrist. ] Iām sure I wouldnāt even get the time of day with all of this.
No, likely not. In the same vein that I wouldn't, would I drop my glamor.
[ He knows it's true. Silco has less...focus on respectability, but plenty on respect. On being acknowledged and powerful. He cannot do that if he looks like he does corrupted. As augmented, they are others, at least like this, with his face hidden behind a glamor, he can blend in, and be one of them.
He can't, if he shows his real face. ]
They wouldn't give us the time of day. [ Resentfully. ] Though, I suppose, that is why we are lucky enough to have the souls we do.
Itās convenient. Perhaps itās even an apology for how rude our transformations are by comparison~.
[ Heās light in saying this, but itās a lie. Truthfully, he finds their ability to hide to be a great source of guilt. Despite his best efforts (and part of it he would blame of the invasive, strange process of imprinting), heās become fond of some people here. And, soā¦ He feels cowardly when he compares himself to them. They have to wear their face as an Augmented, and here Hugo is, hiding it like itās a terrible secret.
Itās a feeling he knows Silco wouldnāt share. ]
ā¦You like being a Spectral, then?
[ He thinks Silco would, but heās still curious enough to ask. ]
Of all the souls they could have given me, it fits the best, I gather.
[ There is truth to that. He is dead, after all. He'd died again, upon arriving here, and while that had been harrowing, had he not come out the other side? Had he not survived, in the end?
He feels no guilt, or shame, but Silco has little space for these emotions. The anger and resentment that came with being a Spectral feels... so easy, in comparison. ]
At the very least, it allows me to operate as I often have. I may be adaptable, but I've spent my life leaning on my old tricks. Having to change tactics now would teach me nothing for the future.
[ WHEN he returns, surely! ]
i didn't expect for this to be the convo where furries come up but ykw sure
[ Hugo scoffs, but for once, itās with a genuine humor. Itās wry and even a little bitter, but. ]
Well, that I have to agree with. I may not be at ease with what my Soul has does to me, but it suits the kind of work Iāve been doing for years now, itās true. Now, making the āphantomā in āphantom thiefā literal is terribly on the nose, butā¦
[ He smiles as he takes another sip of his drink with a shrug. ]
Better that than a Carnivora, though thatās just personal annoyance from home.
[ Like, with his luck, he can only assume that he would end up as a canid, which would uniquely piss him off. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bow on one thread means me slamming my glass and going ANOTHER
What do you drink? Let's share one in my "penthouse".
(And because I can guess your distaste, it's not actually a penthouse. I've just made my apartment the top floor, since why pay for two places, right?)
HEHEHEHE
[ SUSPICIOUS ]
I'll bring the bottle. Hopefully you don't mind whiskey. Thankfully, I haven't developed to finding that distasteful yet.
no subject
Whiskey is just fine with me. I'm similarly glad that at least drinking seems to be fine.
[ if biologically confusing but like whatever man he's stopped asking questions about that ]
Just send me a message when you're outside. Or float over the front gate. Either or. I've added locks since our first visit.
1/2
[ Float over.
What a prospect. ]
Top floor, yes?
no subject
Dramatic bitch.
At least he does have a bottle of whiskey. ]
no subject
[ Because Hugo, completely incorrectly, assumes that Silco will do something, well. Somewhat reasonable. He imagines him floating over the gate, maybe picking the lock on the front door, then viola, elevator to the top just to make a point. For everyone else thatās stopped by, Hugo goes down to meet them, but for Silco, he feels like the man will make a challenge out of this just because.
Heās more correct than he expects.
Hugo so completely doesnāt expect Silcoās course of action here that it offers a peek into a completely unguarded version of Hugo. He doesnāt keep up the glamor while heās alone, most notably. Itās nothing new to Silco at this point, but as much as heās clearly keen to keep up an appearance of respectability, itās at least notable that thereās a lapse on his own. Thereās whiskey glasses and a little metal bucket that presumably has ice on the table, but as Hugo sits and waits, heās drawing with a calm, focused expression.
Which immediately snaps once Silco knocks on the window. Hugo almost jumps out of his (not-)skin in sharp surprise, and his pencil drags a long, frazzled line across his work in progress. His attention snaps up to the window, but between the reaction and how quickly his expression just turns exasperated, itās honestly comical.
He shakes his head, clearly sighs heavily, but makes his way over to the window all the same. He starts to mess with some of the mechanisms, and though itās muffled through the glass, his words are still clear enough. ]
How the hell do you open theseā¦?
[ He hasnāt tried! Itās cold now, and as his thick curtains attest, these windows are all very covered during the day where it might be enjoyable. Heās about to tell Silco to just go to the damn door when a heavy latch slides into place, and heās finally able to swing it out. ]
...I didn't even think you could float this high.
no subject
[ He also used a lot of clambering that he would rather nobody saw to understand how he got up here. A man like him couldn't be seen doing that, but the effect when he appeared where he shouldn't was worth it. Especially when Hugo's left without his glamour, and he can see what effects his soul has wrought on him.
It's different than Silco. Oh, to be fair, not Better, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were spectral. There was a certain...deterioration that came with their soul, but that was the point of the glamor, wasn't it? It allowed them to hide in plain sight, even while the rest of their fellow augmented became more monstrous by the moment.
Then again, they already were monsters.
Silco stepped in with an overly-confident smile, only half-mocking. His boots made a soft 'tmp' on the ground, when he landed. ]
I would have though the windows would be the first thing you secured. A potential escape route, and all.
no subject
So, with his shirt partially unbuttoned for his own comfort, it shows more bone underneath. His ribcage shines underneath his skin, and along the bones are spindly, black threads that radiate outwards from the inside of it. Where his heart sat, thereās clearly something, since thereās a dim purple light, but itās not visible.
Also, since the last time heād seen Silco, his transformation had also completely finished. Most of that lays hidden under his clothes, but the last little touch thatās easily visible is the pale, ghostly glow in his hair. The end of his long hair and a few of the bangs that frame his face emit the dim light. ]
Sure, but itās still not exactly what I expectedā¦
[ He closes the window after Silco, and it takes a little effort because of how heavy it is. But with a sigh, he gestures and leads the way to the table that heās already set up for them to drink at. While he walks, he buttons up his shirt, but itās more for feeling a little slovenly than any feeling of self-consciousness. Itās hard to feel that way when youāre hanging out with the man that drowned you. ]
But honestly, Iām more concerned about securing the lower levels at the moment, so I have to focus my efforts there. The art is valuable.
[ He shrugs as he takes a seat, then reaches into the bucket with the tongs to put ice into his own glass. ]
After all, if I need to escape, Iām not above breaking windows.
no subject
[ He says it with a little laugh, as if he thinks it's funny that anyone would consider it. Then again, he wonders how much of it is legitimate, and how much is stolen, if any. He knows Hugo prefers valuables for stealing, and liberating them from the wealthy is always an option. As he follows Hugo, his eyes trail from him, and the changes, to the rest of the room, as if they could tell a story about the man, and who he was.
Silco, for instance, kept his space sparse and uninviting. The knife on his desk was a reminder to all that he would kill them if needed, and that he was not to be underestimated. Even as he watches outward, and conceals all his actions as best he can.
Better that the threat is implied than overt, after all. ]
It is interesting, the mark we are leaving on this world, and what we are choosing to do with it. [ He sets the bottle down, and lets Hugo pour the first drink. ] We have both, thus far, built something.
Where do you see this venture of yours going, precisely?
no subject
So, thereās a collection of antiques sourced from his secondary job, tasteful paintings and dĆ©cor, but there are two pieces that stand out from the rest. Itās two sketches that are dotted with color, but still largely monochrome, yet despite their similarities, they arenāt close to each other. One is a detailed portrait of a young woman. The other is significantly less detailed, but with the colors used, she resembles the other portrait. Her face is artfully obscured by delicately drawn lace, save for a gentle smile. Even so, she looks younger.
The latter portrait has a vase underneath it with fresh flowers.
Naturally, Hugo doesnāt miss how Silcoās eyes drift over him and over his place, but heās not worried about Silco seeing those sentimental things. Heād invited him here and hadnāt moved them first, after all. ]
I do. Itās not like I have the reputation for them to reconsider.
[ āYetā, his tone implies. He takes the bottle with a nod, and he starts to prepare Silcoās drink as well. Heās a little surprised that Silco lets him, but he imagines watching it be done helps soothe his paranoia. ]
But I see it going the same place as it did for me at home, honestly. Itās a cover. A veil of respectability.
[ He slides Silcoās drink across the table with a nod, then finishes up his own. ]
It works remarkably well. Not once did I ever have the police sniffing my way as a suspect, and that seems all the more necessary now.
no subject
There's something about having lost the skill physically, but maintaining the knowledge that seemed to stick. He hadn't quite lost it yet, and probably wouldn't, now. Hell, if he practiced, he would probably be perfectly fine again, with how the soul in him seems to want to move swift, like a viper. ]
Amazing how far a little bit of respect goes, isn't it?
[ He takes the drink.
He still sniffs before he takes a sip. Tests it. Then takes another. ]
It's fortunate that you can. Though, I suspect, compared to some augmented, a respectable soul is easy to look past, isn't it?
no subject
Respect and good manners. Honestly, the latter is what opens up many closed doors when Iām working~.
[ Thatās probably obvious to Silco at this point. Hugo is amiable in general, but heās also able to wield even that like a weapon. Heās disarming and charming, and it works to his benefitā¦ When he wants it to, at least.
He takes a sip of his own whiskey once itās poured, and he makes an approving little sound after. Not bad. This must be an area where Silco does care about finer things, surprisingly. ]
But if you mean the glamor, yes. My eyes, ears, and fangs still draw some wayward looks, but itās nothing compared to— [ He gestures with his free hand, just to show the roll of his wrist. ] Iām sure I wouldnāt even get the time of day with all of this.
no subject
[ He knows it's true. Silco has less...focus on respectability, but plenty on respect. On being acknowledged and powerful. He cannot do that if he looks like he does corrupted. As augmented, they are others, at least like this, with his face hidden behind a glamor, he can blend in, and be one of them.
He can't, if he shows his real face. ]
They wouldn't give us the time of day. [ Resentfully. ] Though, I suppose, that is why we are lucky enough to have the souls we do.
We're the only ones that can hide in plain sight.
no subject
[ Heās light in saying this, but itās a lie. Truthfully, he finds their ability to hide to be a great source of guilt. Despite his best efforts (and part of it he would blame of the invasive, strange process of imprinting), heās become fond of some people here. And, soā¦ He feels cowardly when he compares himself to them. They have to wear their face as an Augmented, and here Hugo is, hiding it like itās a terrible secret.
Itās a feeling he knows Silco wouldnāt share. ]
ā¦You like being a Spectral, then?
[ He thinks Silco would, but heās still curious enough to ask. ]
no subject
[ There is truth to that. He is dead, after all. He'd died again, upon arriving here, and while that had been harrowing, had he not come out the other side? Had he not survived, in the end?
He feels no guilt, or shame, but Silco has little space for these emotions. The anger and resentment that came with being a Spectral feels... so easy, in comparison. ]
At the very least, it allows me to operate as I often have. I may be adaptable, but I've spent my life leaning on my old tricks. Having to change tactics now would teach me nothing for the future.
[ WHEN he returns, surely! ]
i didn't expect for this to be the convo where furries come up but ykw sure
Well, that I have to agree with. I may not be at ease with what my Soul has does to me, but it suits the kind of work Iāve been doing for years now, itās true. Now, making the āphantomā in āphantom thiefā literal is terribly on the nose, butā¦
[ He smiles as he takes another sip of his drink with a shrug. ]
Better that than a Carnivora, though thatās just personal annoyance from home.
[ Like, with his luck, he can only assume that he would end up as a canid, which would uniquely piss him off. ]