Operational. She was operational six days out of the week. The mechanical way with which she spoke about herself, reminiscent of a chatbot that had not yet received enough input to generate a human sounding response, threw him off balance a little bit. But something seemed to shift in both her face and her tone when she shifted the subject from herself, a robot, onto him, a human, and his culinary preferences. "Oh, yes", he replied with a nod of his head, still half chewing on the food in his mouth. It went down too quickly, he was distracted. Distracted and not particularly hungry. It was good food but the more he ate, the more he realized that he didn't come here for that. "It's...well, I guess it's hard to describe", he struggled for a moment, because she had never tasted anything. Describing to her what he liked about the food would be like trying to describe the color green to a blind person.

There was a brief, calm silence which Tylio used to try and formulate a question he'd been wondering about for weeks now. "What do you enjoy?" He realized he may not get an answer. Or maybe just the standard: "I enjoy serving our customers" answer that was expected from waitresses even back when they were still human.

But it wasn't the words that interested him. He was looking for something in her face. Her eyes, he wanted to see whether the faint hint of discontentment he thought he'd seen before was still there from up close. Whether he had imagined the whole thing. It wouldn't be the first time - his loneliness was an enduring kind, there had been times where he'd misinterpreted people's expressions and even took them for more than what they were. He was determined to not make that mistake again. He gave her time, returning to his dinner and chewing a bit slower this time. But from the corner of his eye, he observed her. Probably in much the same way she was observing him, he now realized. Maybe in some ways, they were not so different. @loveaffairxc

She sidestepped direct eye contact, a novel sensation coursing through her circuits as he addressed her with a sense of recognition, treating her as more than just a robot. The notion of him wanting to engage in conversation left her both surprised and excited. She nodded, as she attempted to conceal a smile; her desire solely to maintain a neutral facade.

The fact that he recalled her name added a layer of surprise. Gradually, she lifted her gaze, searching his eyes for the elusive reason behind his interest. Unsure of what she was looking for, confusion gave way to embarrassment. Did she dare believe there was meaning in this interaction? When he extended his hand, she met it with a shake, registering the warmth and softness of his skin.

"Tylio," she uttered softly, absorbing the information and attaching a name to the face. Her gaze lingered on him with an almost owlish precision; something about him set him apart. Despite his apparent loneliness, it resonated with the solitude she had known since her creation. Silently, she absorbed his words, captivated by his demeanor. His face assumed an intangible air of embarrassment -- a subtle acknowledgment, perhaps, of caring.

His uneasy chuckle possessed a melodic quality to her auditory sensors. "I am operational six days a week, Monday through Saturday, from morning until evening. The restaurant is open 24/7, and I'm here to assist you at any time," she stated in a very matter-of-fact way.

As her gaze shifted to his plate, filled with his meal, a softness stirred within her. "Do you enjoy your food?" she suddenly asked, a genuine curiosity infusing her synthetic voice. // @tyliocellier

The thought of her possibly not liking his music choices hadn't quite occurred to him yet. Maybe because he enjoyed it so much, he found it hard to imagine someone else not feeling the same way, or at the very least experiencing some emotion from it. When she handed him her phone, letting him know that the songs she picked would be best enjoyed with his eyes closed, he flashed her a subtle smile before doing just that.

As soon as his eyes were closed, his ears were greeted by the first melody. It was unexpectedly passionate and quick to affect him. Soon, he found himself lightly tapping his foot along with the rhythm of the song. That stopped when the next number started playing. A slower, more melancholic song. Even in the absence of any vocals, the music reached him, causing a heavy feeling to form in the pit of his stomach. It felt sorrowful, yet he couldn't stop listening. He felt lucky that it did not last longer than a few minutes, or he worried he may have shed a tear. Thankfully, that feeling dissipated with the last song, which managed to bring him back to the present and even put another smile back on his face.

Up to that point, he had been so lost in the music that he hadn't even noticed her leaning in closer. Not until he felt her cheek, lightly nestling itself against his shoulder and causing a bit of warmth to swell in his chest. Her presence, which had at first been a source of awkward, uneasy feelings to him, had strangely morphed into something comforting now. All of a sudden she no longer felt so much like a stranger. Her remark upon listening to his selection made him chuckle a bit. He couldn't be offended when it sounded so much like a compliment.

"Je préfère Les Yeux Noirs. Mais j'aime aussi les autres. Pourquoi avez-vous choisi cette chanson? Est-ce que cela vous rappelle quelqu'un? Vous la chantez quand vous êtes seul?" It was what he pictured in his head when he listened to it. Marinette, singing. He had no idea if she even liked to sing, or whether she was any good at it or if her singing voice sounded anything like that of the recording. It was just the image his mind had decided to conjure up. For a moment, he actually wondered if her offer of a private dance may be traded in for a private song at his request. But he didn't dare ask. Maybe at some point, but first he wanted to know: "Que pensez-vous des miens? Vous les aimez?" A slight grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he glanced at her, he was amused. Pleased that he got to show some of his favorite music to another person who spoke French. It had been a while since that was the case. Of course other people could enjoy it just as much...but he felt that maybe she would have an even deeper appreciation for it. Some of the amusement faded and made place for a more relaxed smile as he looked her in the eye, forgetting for a moment about all the mixed feelings he had about this place. "Marinette...", he spoke, her name beginning to feel familiar in his mouth. This time he was the one to reach out and touch her, brushing the back of his fingers along her knee. "Merci pour ce partage."

“Ha! Si seulement. Je suis connu pour disparaître des clients difficiles.” With a quick swipe of her passcode she began flicking through various playlists, brows knitting as she found herself faced with a conundrum of her own design. How am I supposed to summarize myself in three songs? Tapping her cheek in thought she queued up songs only to immediately remove them in favor of something else. Maybe if I raise it to five songs…? For a brief moment she considered stealing a quick peek of his screen for ‘inspiration’, but knew it would only dampen the purpose. Plus how would she ever get away with it? He’d surely notice. So instead she resorted to rapid fire decisions, successfully cutting the list from nine to four. One more to go…Any train of thought slowed, a subtle tingle trickling up her spine as she felt his gaze on her. From the corner of her eye she could vaguely make out his form, not that it mattered. Even without it she could envision him perfectly from his loose curls to lingering hesitancy in his eyes. In the end her final decision was decided by a random flick of her thumb, Marinette finally meeting his gaze. It wasn’t quite as she’d imagined, less hesitant and more…well, she wasn’t sure how to define it. Thoughts muddled as she recognized traces of what she assumed was his cologne- or perhaps detergent? In either case it wasn’t unpleasant though it made her wonder if her own perfume had faded in their time together. Perhaps he wasn’t a fan of vanilla and orchid?

His near whisper gave her pause, lulling her back into reality. “...Merci.” Slipping his phone from his grasp, her fingers brushed against his own, Marinette watching him curiously as she replaced it with hers. Hesitant to remove her touch, lightly stained lips parted with every intention to speak- only to instead offer a soft breath with a smile. “Alors. Le truc, c'est de se détendre, fermer les yeux et profiter de la musique.” Holding up her earbuds case she handed it over.  “Tiens. Je les ai nettoyées, donc ne t'en fais pas. Il suffit de les mettre et de profiter.” Sight of his wired headphone  gave her pause, a teasing look shot his way as she collected them nonetheless. “Je te retrouve de l'autre côté.” With a wink she donned his headphones before settling in. A lone glance at the first artist and she had a feeling their choices were rather different, her own being Les Yeux Noirs, Oblivion, & Cashew. Still, she pushed away any worries of him disliking her choices and pressed play before closing her eyes.

Le Sud started off quite light and pleasant, reminding her of summers long past in her provincial home. Smiling to herself she slowly relaxed against him, idly thrumming her fingers to the beat. Reference to war seemed oddly solemn, though in a way it all reminded her of Tylio- pleasant and quirky if not without a tinge of something less fortunate. The song switched over and Marinette readjusted, unaware of how she drew closer, unconsciously seeking his warmth. My Song immediately filled her with a happy feeling with her first thought being: I may have to redeem myself with different songs. It was just so…sweet. When Labi sang about not always singing in tune she gave a small laugh, wondering how Tylio would sound if he sang it. By the time the song ended she wasn’t sure what to expect, but then La Mer began playing and she couldn’t but open her eyes. “T'es tellement français.” Moreso a whisper to herself, she grinned, shifting so her cheek was pressed against his shoulder. “Tellement, tellement français.” Fighting back titters she could recite every lyric as though it was imprinted in her memory and honestly? It probably was. 

Open to female muses | Plot: Angsty period AU! Our muses are both from rich families. They have been friends for a long time and have feelings for each other. Tylio's family fortune has recently been lost, and now his mother has instructed him to charm your muse into marriage, in order to gain access to your muses' inherited fortune. However, he's not very good at lying or pretending. @indiestarter

"I was hoping I'd catch you here." A subtle but earnest smile blossomed on Tylio's lips as soon as she turned around and looked at him. This wasn't the first time he found her in a remote spot. It seemed she liked to escape from the world at times and find a calm place to collect her thoughts. He noticed, because he was like this too. That and the fact that he was supposed to keep a close eye on her. According to his mother, she was potentially the family's ticket out of poverty. She'd never worded it that way but that was essentially what it came down to. At first he'd been staunchly against the idea. They had been friends ever since they were young and there was no part of him that wanted to take advantage of her. But as the bills began to pile up and his father was forced to sell more and more of their assets while his mother cried silently in the background, he began to change his tune. "You're always disappearing to the sea."

It was true that clubs like this were not his scene. The few times he decided to check out the city's nightlife, he'd ended up in casino's rather than strip joints. He hadn't been to any in a while, not since he realized they were dangerous places for him. There was something about those machines, about their flashing lights, their bright colours and rinkly noises... He could sit down behind one of the slot machines and lose 5 hours - as well as $2000 - without even realizing it. It was a bit like being hypnotized, time seemingly flying by, much in the same way it did whenever he watched a movie or read a book he really enjoyed. Only this form of entertainment was a lot more costly. Sometimes he was okay with it. Everything came with a price. How much was $2000 really? He got hours of enjoyment out of it, was that worth the money? He probably would have answered no, if the money wasn't already spent. Now it was surprisingly easy to justify the loss to himself. It was just money. He could always earn more. A tiny jolt of longing shot up through his knee as soon as her hand landed there. Its warmth seemed to spread farther up his leg, exuding a mix of sympathy and flirtatiousness. Or perhaps it was amusement, he could rarely tell the difference. Her gesture put him at ease and put him on edge all at the same time, creating a hint of conflict within him. He was hardly unfamiliar with this feeling, it seemed to happen to him whenever he decided to leave the isolated safe haven of his solitude for a while and interact with the real world. But it only happened with certain people.

Before he knew it, Tylio returned her knowing smile, hesitantly welcoming the touch of her hand and allowing it to pleasantly linger there. He was almost disappointed when she removed it but the sound of her voice didn't allow him to dwell in it. She was explaining her idea to him now and the smile on his face broadened, a hint of genuine excitement flashing across his eyes. "Euh, oui, je les ai quelque part…", he nodded, his fingers now restlessly digging into the inner pocket of his jacket until they found what they were looking for: a small pair of headphones attached to each other by wire. Old technology, especially for someone in his field, but they worked just fine. "Une idée merveilleuse. Vous êtes doué pour cela, n'est-ce pas ? Divertir les invités difficiles", he joked. "Attendez un peu, je vais penser à quelques chansons…ah, oui!"

The phone that had been forgotten in his pocket for the past hour was now back in his hand, the bright screen displaying his ever expanding playlist. As he scrolled through it briefly, it didn't take him very long to come up with three songs and then three more, and then three more. The difficult part was choosing three for her to listen to. For a moment he hesitated on what to show her. There was quite a bit of melancholy in his playlist. And for whatever reason, he found himself not wanting her to think of him as melancholic. So he purposefully picked out some of the songs he considered bright and lively. First up on the list, Le Sud. Then My Song and finally La Mer. It wasn't until he felt satisfied about his final choice that he realized she was now sitting much closer, her arm now cushioned lightly against his own. For a moment he gazed at her, distracted by the sight of her from up close. Her eyes...he could see now, how they could draw someone in. "Voici", he offered up his phone, his voice just above the sound of a whisper. At the same time, he also held out his hand in anticipation of her phone. Because as much as he wanted to share some of the music he enjoyed, what enticed him even more was finding out what she listened to.

In those small moments where there was nothing said, where earlier she would have offered a quip- she was slowly learning to relent. To offer him time to breathe, whether his words or their lingering effects. Only then was she able to fully appreciate his expressions; and before long she found herself amply rewarded. His chuckle sounded quite different than his laugh, though both were pleasant in their own way. Of course he would deny her offer of a dance, but it was what he said after which had her doing her best to mask a Cheshire’s grin. Taking every ounce of self control to keep from letting something slip. From teasing him with a simple: So you think I’m pretty? Before it could slip, however, a fit of coughs beat her to it. Without giving it a second thought she reached out, her hand resting on his knee in silent support. For a second she considered slipping off to fetch him a drink- not to say she believed there were any nonalcoholic options, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Too wary of predictable chaos buzzing just beyond the threshold and content to remain within the confines of their makeshift bubble. Perhaps it was selfish. Still, she found justifications beyond it. Maybe this will give him reason to quit? A future she couldn’t picture in the slightest.

Then he spoke of a possible next time and her brows perked up. Him? In a club? On his own? Or would he come back with his ‘work colleagues’? Would she even be working? Potential scenarios seemed so limited and yet there was no denying beginnings of a smirk. I’ll hold you to that, Tylio. If only she thought there was even a slight chance he would ever step foot in a place like his again.

Her ears pricked when he brought up dance, genuinely curious if he was somehow planning to circle back to the very thing he just denied wanting. Anticipation gave way to breathless laughter when she realized he was asking about music of all things. “Ça dépend, non?” Marinette shrugged, idly fiddling with a strap of her heel to provide a few seconds of relief. Tonight’s pair weren’t entirely broken in yet, but they looked nice which was enough of a reason to power through. “Si je dansais, je dirais une chose. Si je fais de la pâtisserie, je dirais autre chose.” Moving to lift her free hand from his knee, she paused, “Oh ! Je sais quelque chose qu'on peut faire.” With a gentle squeeze she finally released him to pluck her phone off the table. “T'as des écouteurs? Je peux te jouer trois chansons que j'aime et tu peux faire pareil. Comme ça, tu sauras ce que j'aime.” Sinking back in place beside him she slid closer until she was pressed against his side. “Ça te dit? On peut même faire un échange, et je ne serai même pas triste si tu dis que ma musique est nulle.”

The more she argued, the guiltier he felt and it made him panic a bit. Because she was right. There was a very real chance they may lose the house if he kept on going like this. It was strange, during moments like this one he could not for the life of him understand why he ever thought it was a good idea to walk into a casino. But whenever he passed by those shiny doors, whenever he saw the blinking lights inside and heard the sounds of those slot machines, it was like something possessed him. He had a problem. So far he'd been able to hide it because he had a decent job with a good salary, but now the money was starting to run out. Probably better she found out before all the money was gone. They still had some savings left that he hadn't gotten into yet. Part of him was insulted that she'd moved it to a different account, and yet another part of him could see that he had basically left her no choice. "We're not going to lose the house. Okay? We aren't. Zareen, please..." He reached out, intending to touch her arm but changing his mind halfway through when he noticed the way she was looking at him. There was so much hurt in her eyes...he didn't think he had ever felt so horrible.

"There is still money", he blurted out, because it was the only thing he could think of to say that might calm her down. It was what he always told himself too, whenever he'd gambled away another couple thousand. "Most of it is in your name now, I cannot touch it anyway..." He didn't mean for it to sound resentful, but it did. It bothered him that he had no access to most of their funds right now, it bothered him that she didn't have enough trust in him to handle their money. He still had some money of his own, and he was still working but there was indeed a tiny part of him that was angry. Because how was he ever going to earn back the money he gambled away, if he had no more money to gamble? On some level, he was still holding onto the hope that maybe if he just got lucky one time, he could win back everything and this whole problem would go away. Rationally, he knew this was not true. There was no 'big win' to magically solve all their problems. He just needed it to be true. "I'm sorry. I know this is shameful. And if you want to manage the money, fine, so be it, I don't care. Just please don't go like this. If you have to leave, at least let me bring you to the hotel."

Zareen busied herself with packing, trying not to listen to Tylio as he spoke to her, trying to convince her not to leave. She was pacing their shared room, moving to grab whatever she needed to spend time away from the house. She'd decided it was probably best that she stay somewhere else until she could find a new place to live - despite how much the thought of leaving absolutely shattered her. She loved Tylio but Zareen couldn't let her life be destroyed by another marriage gone sour. If she didn't leave now, she may lose everything she'd worked so hard for.

"Oh it's upsetting?" Zareen huffed incredulously, dropping the blouse she was folding onto the bed as she finally turned to look at Tylio, a frown etched deep into her features. "Do you know what else is upsetting?" She asked rhetorically. "Worrying constantly because you think your husband is going to gamble away his whole life savings away. It's upsetting to think about how many shifts I'm going to have to pick up at the hospital to help keep the bills paid. It's upsetting to know that all this time you were doing this behind my back and lying to me about it!" She ranted, growing more and more upset with each passing sentence. She could feel her throat tighten and she tried to swallow down the lump she felt forming, trying not to get choked up. She didn't want to cry. "I can't even sleep at night because all I can think about is what if we lose the house because of this? That is why I can't stay here." She fought, turning back towards the bed to continue to haphazardly shove articles of clothes into her suitcase.

While he didn't particularly like it, Tylio was well aware that to certain people, he was easy to read. Usually people who were around others a lot. Social butterflies seemed to have an easy time figuring him out. He often wondered if maybe there just wasn't a whole lot to him. Of course he had layers, just like anyone else but no one ever seemed surprised when they peeled back the first few. Actually, what they found seemed to bore and at times even repel them. Thankfully, there were also those who looked at him with kindness. With patience. Those were the people he usually gravitated to. How unfortunate was it then, that they should be so hard to find. He thought he caught a glimpse of that kindness in Marinette's eyes, when he spoke of his brother. He wasn't sure why it appeared then of all moments, his decision to support his family didn't require any sympathy in his eyes. It was a very neutral topic to him, something like doing groceries. He was used to it. It was a way of life. His family had earned his support...wait, what was she saying?

He blinked, caught slightly off guard when she informed him that whatever time they were spending together right now was already paid for. That came as a surprise to him, but it made sense. She probably preferred to get her money up front, rather than risk getting ripped off. Time was valuable. Even more than money. But he wasn't used to anyone passing up an opportunity to earn some of the latter. Was it a gimmick, maybe? To seem more sincere? But he didn't really doubt her sincerity. Maybe his colleague had already paid her a lot and she felt bad after hearing about how he supported his family. That seemed like the more likely explanation in his mind, until she backtracked a little bit and offered him a private dance. He let out a vaguely uncomfortable chuckle, now realizing that he might have made it seem as though he was aiming for a private show after all.

"Non, ce n'est pas ce que je voulais dire", he assured her, for reasons unknown even to him. Why didn't he want her to dance for him? She was attractive, that was for sure. Probably good at dancing, moving herself in such a way that it was a pleasure to watch. The kind of thing he might fantasize about in his head, but never voice out loud. There was some part of him that felt too strange, too apprehensive to accept her offer unashamedly. "Non pas que vous ne soyez pas séduisante, vous êtes belle. Je pense que vous le savez déjà…" He let out a small cough, his throat suddenly feeling awful dry. He made the mistake of taking another drag of his cigarette immediately after, which turned one tiny cough into a brief coughing fit. "Ah merde", he exhaled, his gaze averted, his hand almost reaching for a glass of water that was not there. "Cette satanée habitude…" For the third time that evening, a silence fell between them but this time he had a lot more trouble steering the conversation in a different direction. But then he looked at her once more and he felt again at ease. For a moment he'd almost forgotten that she was just a person, doing her job.

"Peut-être la prochaine fois", he concluded with a faint smile that he hoped was able to mask the fact that he had been tempted. "En parlant de danse… quel genre de musique aimez-vous?", he asked, regaining some of his footing. Despite their unorthodox way of meeting, he would still much rather be in this room speaking to her than out there, with his colleagues.

“Maintenant, je te trouve louche.” Marinette mused, “Je fais des crêpes salées presque tous les jours.” Making a show of narrowing her eyes she could only last a beat or two before devolving into a smile. “Ma spécialité, c'est le fromage de chèvre, pas évident à dénicher, alors je vais dans un marché spécifique pour ça, mais c'est un secret.” Mainly due to her preference to keep certain identifiable details private- even if she had already given him her first name. She supposed she might have been concerned since his profession was cyber security, but considering she didn’t have any social media…she figured there was little to fret about. Not to mention he didn’t strike her as the type to ‘unhealthily fixate’ as her manager preferred to call it. In fact, he almost seemed too normal for this place.

Under weight of his expression, instinct drove her to run her fingers through her hair, an attempt to mask inklings of regret for providing insight into her homelife. Funnily enough, she considered her story quite tame compared to others’, but in hindsight she could see how he might not view it through the same rose tinted lens. Did it mean she had grown jaded? She couldn’t say nor did she think it important to know. If anything she was far more interested in his own retellings- even if they were initially vague. What first seemed well intentioned suddenly seemed less so once he spoke of his brother. “Mm.” Entrenched urges itched to press further, to ask why he seemed so…resigned, yet she held her tongue. To assume he wished to share more was foolish, just as it had been foolish for her.

Light hues trailed subtle shifts in his demeanor, curious if he saw himself as transparent or perhaps a closed book of sorts. In her eyes he was certainly the former, though she supposed it came with the nature of her profession- to notice signs of tension or distress in others. If she were a gambler she may have assumed he was building the nerve to make a request. Instead he mentioned money. “Non.” The answer slipped free before she could catch it, a small smile cementing her position. “Ils ont payé un tarif fixe pour la nuit et toutes les danses supplémentaires sont payées d'avance.” A fact most wedding parties knew, although in her short time spent with Tylio it seemed only fitting he wouldn’t. “Et comme t'as pas eu de danse, t'as rien à payer.” Her tone remained soft if not firm, purposely avoiding any direct reference to him paying her. Despite how their conversation may have flowed, she couldn’t deny a small niggle in her mind- a worry that in expressing herself too freely she had brought unwanted pity upon herself. Well done, Marinette. Well done. Chastising thoughts were brushed aside in favor of maintaining peace.

“À moins que…” With a tilt of her head she gave him a once over, “tu veux dire que tu veux une danse?” If he were to say yes it wasn’t as though she’d mind; her mischievous side reveling in the idea of seeing him flustered while her sane side acknowledged it was the entire reason they slipped away in the first place.

"Ah yes, light talk", he jested, and it was genuinely amusing to him. They talked so much about deep stuff...but not very much about their everyday lives. He wasn't even sure she knew what his job was, even though that was usually the first thing he mentioned when he got into conversations with new people. "But I have to say, I slept wonderfully, last night was simply amazing..." His voice held a dreamy cadence as he recalled the few hours they'd spent together so far. He was still on a cloud of sorts. "Anyway, what do you do for work? I think we skipped that part of the introductions." The smile would not fade from his face, even as he dug into his breakfast. It wasn't even the sex that had lifted his spirits - although it certainly helped - it was the sense of connection that he had been missing for a long time. He had almost given up on finding it entirely, because going without was a lot less painful whenever he managed to convince himself that he didn't need it. But...he remembered looking into Victoria's eyes last night. Holding her in his arms and brushing his hand through her hair, while she shared with him her opinions about life, about politics, about art, about music. He had enjoyed it so much that by the time his eyes were starting to get heavy, he was fighting off the fatigue like his life depended on it. He'd wanted the moment to linger just a while longer. Now he didn't know why, because as it turned out having breakfast with her was just as enjoyable. "You're here for a few more days, isn't that right?"

"Thank you." Victoria said upon getting her mug filled with coffee. Victoria put her phone on silent, since she did not want any texts or calls from Jason to be heard. Everyone important in her life knew where she was, they could inform him if they wanted. She didn't really care.

She took this moment to relax, to expel any thought of what was coming for a later time. Victoria stretched, a low groan leaving her as she leaned against the chair with her head back. "Better than I have in a while..." The woman sent a wink his way. Her playful side, the one she thought she lost a long time ago, came out naturally with Tylio. Unlike Jason, who always told her she was doing 'too much' or that she was 'being too loud'. Victoria straightened herself out, her stomach growled from hunger. She took a bite of her eggs, before grabbing a piece of the eggs with the bread. "This is great..." The woman mumbled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"How did you sleep?" She redirected the question. The woman brought her coffee mug up to her lips, taking a generous sip. "I think we should actually get to know each other this time, and not get into the Grecian politic debate again." Victoria joked, fork stabbing eggs and some vegetables.

At first, Tylio laughed when she told him that she cooked every new meal from scratch. However, as soon as he realized she wasn't joking, he became silent and his amusement turned into bewilderment and then quickly amazement. To Tylio, whose culinary skills on most days extended to throwing a prebought frozen meal into the microwave and pressing a button, the thought of her going through every step required to not only prepare but perfect a new dish was more than just a little impressive. While he didn't quite share the same love of cooking, he did relate to the feeling of focusing on something meticulously and receiving genuine gratification from it. Sharing her food with other people also seemed to be a big part of it, he realized. She was even asking him now what his favorite meal was. Again, it took him a moment to figure out whether that was a serious question or just a statement. Because it didn't make a whole lot of sense. People didn't cook for him. Not that he had a problem with it, it was fine this way, he wasn't starving. But the last time someone cooked for him it had been his mother and he must have been a teenager still. The thought lead him down a trail of memories, and suddenly he could picture her standing there in the kitchen, shifting between pots and pans, chopping away at carrots and onions and looking...calm? Serene, even. She didn't look like that most of the time, but while she was cooking, her face sometimes had a calmness about it. "J'ai toujours aimé les crêpes salées", he answered. "Les avez-vous déjà cuisinées?"

When Marinette began to speak of her family situation, a solemn expression etched itself across Tylio's features. It did not sound easy. Actually, it sounded as though she was in quite a shit position. He wasn't sure how much money she earned doing this kind of job but even if it was a lot, having to take care of two siblings would take a big chunk out of her budget rightaway. He wondered then, whether he ought to pay her and how much exactly. After all, this was taking up her time. He had no idea whether his bachelor colleague in the other room had paid her anything yet and he suspected that by the end of the night, the guy would be too drunk to remember. "Je vois", he nodded, his hand lifting and briefly rubbing his own face, as it often did whenever he was lost in thought.

She asked him about his family and he didn't realize that she was returning his question in much the same manner she teased him for doing before. A small sigh left him, he felt ambivalent about his family most of the time. "Je ne sais pas… ils sont de la famille. C'est ce que font les gens. Ce sont des gens bien, alors ça ne me dérange pas." While it might not be an entirely truthful statement to say that it didn't bother him, he didn't like to make a big deal about it either. He wasn't in financial trouble and it was true that for the first part of his life, they supported him. Why not return the favor? "Mon frère a vécu avec moi pendant un moment. Et mon autre frère… c'est difficile pour lui de garder un emploi. Cela ne me dérange pas de travailler… Je pense que c'est mieux ainsi." A brief silence, and his posture changed again, a hint of stiffness gathering in his shoulders. "Combien vous doit-on ce soir?" He felt a bit clumsy asking, but after hearing her story it was clear that she could use the money. He didn't plan on doing anything other than talk but...he enjoyed talking to her. It had been a while since he'd had a conversation he enjoyed and to him, that was worth money.

Observing his mannerisms she couldn’t help but find Tylio oddly curious. To think he’d initially seemed put off by her presence and yet just now hadn’t brushed away her touch. And I touched his face. In a way he reminded her of the men her grandfather used to drone on about her needing: For you I see an unassuming man. Someone who can handle your antics and knows better than to critique your food, but is finicky like patisserie. Blinking back to present, she watched how he spoke, unable to hide a small smirk. I wouldn’t say this one is unassuming, grandfather. Just awkward…in a handsome sort of way. When he finished his questions it took her a moment to catch up. “Eh… n'importe quoi, en fait. Je suis pas difficile. En général, j'apprends la recette du plat ou du dessert préféré de quelqu'un et je me lance le défi de le perfectionner.” A habit which had served well both in expanding her skillset and helping smooth over issues every now and again. “Mais je dois tout faire à partir de zéro sinon ça compte pas dans ma tête.” Aware of how tedious such a decision was she could only offer a small shrug. “Dis-moi ton plat préféré et j'essaierai de le faire.”

Then he spoke of her family situation. “Touché.” Heaving a sigh she pondered whether to offer a vague answer so as to spare his mood, but ultimately decided against it. “Y a pas d'argent.” A ghost of a smile graced her features, yet her eyes fell dim, rehearsed expressions faltering in a glimpse of what simmered beneath. “C'est juste moi.” Simple words spoken as though she had yet to fully comprehend their weight. In a way, she supposed she hadn’t. “Quand ma mère est décédée, ma sœur et moi avons été envoyées ici pour vivre avec notre père.” Her gaze flicked to Tylio then. “Il y a une maison à Conques qui est à mon nom, mais tout l'argent est allé à notre père pour s'occuper de nous.” A crucial misstep in her eyes despite understanding her mother’s intentions- in the absence of one parent, why deprive them of the other? Unfortunately, such wishes were naive in light of their father’s unrelenting vices. “En l'espace de quelques années, sa femme est tombée malade et une fois qu'elle est décédée - hop - il a disparu, laissant même mon frère derrière lui.” In light of everything, Marinette had come to accept it wasn’t their father’s actions towards her or even her sister which weighed heavily, but the betrayal towards his son- the only one he raised from birth. “…J'avais cinq mois pour mettre nos vies en ordre.” Even now she could so clearly picture Rem’s expression when he realized he had been cast, still mourning his own mother. A sight permanently etched upon her memory. “Alors je l'ai fait.” Raising the cigarette to her lips she inhaled as if by reflex, finding refuge in the unpleasant burning filling her lungs.

“Qui aurait pensé qu'on deviendrait si proches, hein? Je vais peut-être devoir te faire promettre le secret après ça.” Holding out the cigarette for him to swipe, she shamelessly stole a trick from his deck. “Et ta famille alors?” The idea of misery loving company came to mind, but she had never been one to agree. “Pourquoi est-ce que tu les soutiens?”

A hint of embarrassment befell Tylio when Marinette called him out on his subpar communication skills - she was right, it was a lazy way to converse. He'd been told that before and yet it was a habit he kept falling back into because finding a topic to talk about, outside of work, was a real challenge for him. His work was his life, basically, and for a while he had assumed that it was this way for everyone. Meeting and talking to other people, he realized it wasn't necessarily the case. People led lives that were vastly different from his own and while it fascinated him, he didn't know where to begin or what questions to ask them. Even someone like Marinette, who was quite easy to talk to. A vaguely apologetic smile pulled at the corners of his lips as she insisted he ask her something original. He opened his mouth but before he had a chance to say another word his lips were greeted by the soft press of one of her fingertips. With that simple, effortless gesture she silenced him in an instant. She was not done talking. Now she was telling him how she liked to spend her free time and he found himself intently listening. He was warming up to her. Cooking and gardening, both things he wasn't good at but on some level felt he might enjoy if he tried them. It just always felt like he didn't have the time.

When she mentioned that she had about three years left before her siblings were finished with school, he began to wonder to what degree she was taking care of them. Did the responsibility fall solely on her shoulders? What about her parents? Why was it that she had to wait until they were out of school before she herself could get started on doing what she wanted? It wasn't until she withdrew her hand that her spell of silence was finally broken and he regained his voice: "Cuisiner ? Pour vous-même ? Qu'aimez-vous cuisiner?" For a moment, he tried to imagine her in the kitchen. Despite the different context they were in right now, it was surprisingly easy to picture her there.

"Pardonne-moi. Je suis un peu rouillé. Mais je crois que je sais ce que je veux vous demander maintenant. Qui s'occupe de ton frère et de ta sœur ? Est-ce toi? L'argent, tout leur revient?" He had done something similar in the past, taking care of his brother. Financially, at least. The situation was different, as his brother was an adult and, some would argue, ought to be able to take care of himself. Things were just not that simple. For whatever reason, Tylio was the first one of his brothers to land a job and the only one to earn decent money. It was nice but it also came with a lot of expectations. He was expected to share and at times, the family seemed to think that his income was limitless.

His chuckle earned a curious smile, Marinette finding the sound both short and pleasant- perfectly befitting of him. From the sharp planes of his features reminiscent of old paintings to his endearing, hesitant nature…in a word, she found him novel. As if torn from worn pages. Yet given the nature of his words she couldn’t help but imagine this particular novel as quite solemn. A sentiment she doubted he would appreciate if voiced, for when did anyone enjoy being psychoanalyzed- especially by someone unfamiliar? 

Still, when he spoke of how it was difficult to meet new people, she couldn’t help but shoot him a chastising look. After all, the sole reason they were sitting here chatting so casually was because HE had insisted- a decision she suspected predicated on him being uncomfortable with the idea of a private dance. 

“Ah, d'accord.” She murmured softly, not wanting to disrupt his flow. While not from the same region of France herself, she knew of Lille for its universities and markets- a proper city compared to own home. To think he only managed to visit once a year seemed a pity although who was she to say? Perhaps there were tensions or other equally valid reasons. When she initially took responsibility over her siblings she considered returning ‘home’, but ultimately recognized it simply wouldn’t have been in their best interest. Mention of Germany pulled her from her thoughts, brows knitting ever so slightly before easing once he explained. “Mhm…” Not once had she heard of the Almabtrieb bet the images conjured in her mind made her seem lovely. “I think so too. I can imagine you there.” An easy admission. 

T'inquiète pas, je vais arrêter

Marinette’s expression grew painfully dull, rolling her eyes despite a smirk. “Menteur.” With a flick against his chest she couldn’t help but scoff at his question. “Tu peux pas juste piquer ma question et la poser comme si c'était la tienne! Trop fainéant!” Laughing, she plucked the cigarette from him. “Tu dois trouver ton propre sujet sinon j'aurai pas d'autre choix que de riposter.” For emphasis she took a small drag, holding it for a few seconds before erupting in a small coughing fit. “Ah non.” Barely croaking it out between coughs she patted her chest with her free hand, refusing defeat. “C'est bon. Je vais bien.” A few beats passed before she could breathe freely again, unsure if her eyes were watering from his cigarette or her laughs. “De toute façon, comme je disais. Si tu vas voler mes questions, autant que je les réponde, MAIS je ne te rendrai pas ça tant que tu n'auras pas posé ta propre question, ok?” Whether it was moreso a threat to him or herself, she couldn’t say. “J'aime cuisiner et jardiner. Une fois que mon frère et ma sœur auront fini l'école, je prévois soit d'aller à l'école de pâtisserie, soit de faire un apprentissage, donc il me reste environ trois ans.” Afraid he might try to pepper in a question she pressed a finger to his lips. “Je viens de Conques et si je pouvais faire n'importe quoi, j'irais nager.” Removing her hand she gave a proud little grin. “There. Now you have nothing to steal.”

Another faint smile appeared on Tylio's face when she mentioned that not only did she know the other girl, but she was even close enough to the point where she'd dropped off her son at the nursery one time. There was something heartwarming about the way she mentioned this, as though it was a very fond memory of hers, and for a moment he wondered whether she had children of her own. But he was hesitant to ask, at least in this setting. He thought it might be too personal to ask her something like that, although she shared with him moments later that she had a little brother and sister. They had to be quite young, if she still had to bring them to school. Again, he noticed a slight twinkle in her eyes when she spoke of them and it instantly endeared him to her a little more. Perhaps because he could relate to it. He valued family quite highly, even if nowadays he didn't get to see them very often anymore. They were also not children, but the feeling of responsibility remained with him.

"Ils ont de la chance d'avoir une sœur qui se soucie d'eux", he concluded and without him realizing it, his shoulders slumped a little and another layer of tension washed away. He watched her draw a bit closer and this time, he welcomed it. It allowed him to study her face a bit more. Aside from just beauty, there was a lot of information in there too. And warmth. The kind of warmth that made him want to look at her for much longer than he normally would in conversation. There seemed to be some similiarities between them, he could feel it too. She was just much quicker to voice it, and a lot more eloquent at that.

"Je l'espère bien", he chuckled. He also still hoped that one day, his family would start appreciating the money he was sending them. Or rather, that it would someday make them appreciate him. That possibility alone was enough for him to keep doing it.

When she decided to speak frankly, advising him not to befriend his coworkers, she provoked a small laugh from him for the first time. "C’est ma principale option", he joked, although there was some truth in his jest. "Il est difficile de rencontrer de nouvelles personnes-" He trailed off, realizing near the end of his sentence that while unorthodox, this conversation was also a way of meeting someone new. Maybe it was easier than he thought. He was about to ask her how she felt about it, whether she had a lot of people around her, but she was quicker with the questions. "Ah, je suis de Lille. J'y vais encore parfois pour rendre visite à ma famille. Une fois par an. C'est un peu comme une escapade, je suppose. Sinon, je ne sais pas si je ferais le voyage." Another short drag of his cigarette, as he dared to relax a little more, leaning against the back of the couch and turning his body more in her direction. "J’aimerais aller en Allemagne un jour. Pour assister à l’Almabtrieb. C’est une cérémonie où les vaches alpines sont ramenées de leurs alpages…j’ai vu des photos, ça me semble quelque chose que j’aimerais." What do you do for fun? A hard question because he didn't have many hobbies, but he was charmed into answering her anyway. "T'inquiète pas, je vais arrêter", he grinned, knowing full well he had made that same promise to himself years ago. It was a tough habit to kick. "Je n’ai pas beaucoup de passe-temps. Et vous, alors?"

“Bien sûr. On a commencé le même mois et on se soutient depuis.” There were dancers who preferred to maintain a divide between professional and personal life, a tactic she understood, yet had remained unable to follow herself. In her eyes, if a friendship formed within these walls then it continued beyond them.“Je déposais même son fils à la crèche quand j'emmenais mon frère et ma sœur à l'école.” The boy was a rather energetic little thing, blond curls bouncing each time he ran to meet them, his so-called ‘vampire family’- a moniker earned due to her siblings’ shared trait of dark hair. 

“Tu sais…” Words slipped free with no filter, “je pense qu'on est de la même vigne, toi et moi.” As though testing her theory she shifted slightly closer, light hues studying him curiously. “Coincés pour le bien de notre famille, mais que peut-on faire, pas vrai?” Resting her head against the couch she allowed herself a soft sigh. “Sauf espérer qu'ils puissent l'apprécier un jour, non?” A few moments passed before she wrinkled her nose, remembering how she was supposed to at the very least be entertaining him with conversation- not weighing on him. “Je sais que ce n'est pas à moi de le dire, mais tu ne devrais pas t'embêter à essayer d'être ami avec eux.” A boisterous laugh from the other side of the door only served her point. “Pas du tout.” 

Aware of how she was crossing a line she forced herself to perk up. “Bref, raconte-moi ton histoire. D'où viens-tu en France? Que ferais-tu si tu n'étais pas coincé et que tu pouvais faire n'importe quoi? Qu'est-ce que tu fais pour t'amuser,” She flashed a cheeky smile, “à part fumer?”

sometimes u just have to catch feelings for your best friend and hide it for years... it builds character

1x1 indie plotting call!

Do you have muses that you don't get to write often?

Do you enjoy melancholic, dark and angsty (possibly unrequited) romance plots?

Do you enjoy having your muses interact with repressed, introverted middle aged french men?

Are you a fan of building sexual tension but don't care all that much for smut with no plot?

Do you like long threads? If any or all of these things apply to you, like this post. I'll reach out to you and we can see if there's a click. I have plenty of ideas for plots. Do keep in mind that aside from his younger verse, this muse is 35+. I don't mind age gap plots but your muse needs to be at least 21. Let's plot! ✨

Open to female muses | TW: gambling | Plot: Our muses are divorcing because of Tylio's gambling problem, but there's still feelings lingering and he still has some hope that they can reconcile. @indiestarter

"I don't see why you cannot stay here. It's cheaper than a hotel, most of your stuff is still here, it will take you a while to find a new place...I don't have a problem with it." Though she had been adamant that she wanted to book herself a hotel, Tylio was equally adamant about her staying here. Because he knew. He knew that if she left now, she would not be coming back. She had good reason to leave. He had some pretty big gambling debts that he never told her about. Of course he knew she would find out at some point but he hadn't wanted it to happen the way it did, with her finding him crying in front of one of the slot machines at the local casino after losing another $4000. That was just an average night for him. For a while he thought he had it under control but then the stress at work and the ever-piling bills that he'd promised to pay started to get to him. He needed a way to make a lot of money fast, and that was exactly what casino's promised him. He never actually won anything more than a few thousand dollars, though, and of course he could never resist investing that money right back into one of the slot machines. He thought he could make it back, and then some. "Please, stop packing your stuff, it's upsetting. Talk to me."

Perhaps he should not be surprised by her answer - what was she supposed to say, no? But he doubted her sincerity. Not because she seemed like a dishonest person, but because her 'yes' came with so many disclaimers. It was not a long term thing. There were no other jobs that paid well enough. There were a lot of shady guys trying to push their luck. This job was necessary. Then again...he felt more or less the same about his own job. He didn't use to, there had been a time where he was quite passionate about his work. Even now, he could be considered a workaholic. But it didn't bring him the same amount of joy it once had.

"En quelque sorte, c'est une passion. Je suis passionné par la confidentialité en ligne." Passionate, paranoid...what was the difference, really? "Mais je l’ai fait parce que je voulais envoyer de l’argent à ma famille. Ensuite, ça m'est resté en quelque sorte coincé." Another brief silence commenced, while he took a second drag of his cigarette. He tried not to stare, but she was beautiful. There was something a bit sad about her face, which for him made her seem a lot more relatable than the faces of most of his colleagues. Or maybe he was simply seeing what he wanted to see. It was her job, after all, to show people whatever they wanted to see.

"Tu connais l’autre fille?" He wasn't sure why he felt so fascinated by her work. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe it was just that work was all he knew how to talk about, it was his main topic of conversation for years. Whether it was fortifying people's online profiles for a living or visiting and entertaining a house full of drunken guests, a job was a job. Mostly he just wondered whether the girl in the other room was a colleague of Marinette's and whether she felt any closer to her colleagues than he did to his.

While well aware it was impolite to stereotype, hearing he worked in information technology didn’t come as a huge surprise. If anything it was simply another fragment of him she was slowly puzzling together. Quiet. Uncomfortable in a club. Polite…Thinking back to the lot he came with she couldn’t help but notice a clear mismatch. Inhaling softly she went to speak only for him to beat her to it. 

Tu aimes ce travail?

Marinette nearly snorted, reflexively holding his arm to steady herself. “Oui.” With a breathless laugh she settled. “Je le fais.” Nodding, her gaze trailed to the door, well aware of what awaited each of them on the other side. “Ce n'est pas une carrière à long terme, loin de là, et il y a pas mal de types louches qui essaient de pousser leur chance, mais…” A soft smile graced her features, “je suis pote avec les autres danseurs et rien d'autre ne paye aussi bien, donc je ne peux pas me plaindre.” Marinette spoke as though it were simple, akin to working in a supermarket, and in her eyes there was little difference. The decision to audition for the stage had been made on a whim, a desperate attempt to better provide for her younger siblings in spite of their father’s unfortunate habits. 

“C'est un chapitre nécessaire.” In the end she was content with her success, willing to put her own aspirations on the backburner until Rem and Françoise finished their schooling. What are siblings for? Blinking away thoughts of trivial family matters she twirled the cigarette between her fingers. “Et toi ? La cybersécurité, c'est ta passion ou juste un moyen de payer les factures? Comment tu t'es retrouvé là-dedans?”  

The grin on his face widened ever so slightly when Victoria agreed to meet him downstairs for breakfast. He didn't argue, simply nodded and left her be for a little while to get ready while he moved around the room to pick up some of his clothes. A pair of pants and a shirt was as far as he got, he was feeling too lazy to put on any shoes. Besides, he had no intention of leaving any time soon. Not unless she wanted to go for a stroll together later, or go do some swimming.

He'd already decided he wanted to spend the day with her and based on their night together, he assumed she did too. He was pretty sure they even talked about all the stuff they wanted to do together during this vacation, although her exact words were hard to remember since he had a little too much to drink. Speaking of which...he should drink some water. Now that he was strolling downstairs and into the kitchen, he could feel a light throbbing in his temples. It had been a while since he had so much alcohol. It didn't bother him, though. He was in a good mood. Such a good mood that he found himself absentmindedly humming a song while he opened up the hotel fridge and grabbed a bunch of eggs to prepare their breakfast. He was by no means a brilliant cook, but he could fry a decent omelette.

Fifteen minutes later, the breakfast table was decked out with two plates of eggs, a breadboard, a variety of sweet and salty toppings and a fresh pot of coffee. He gestured toward the empty chair as soon as she entered the room. "Sit with me", he requested, a warm smile still beaming on his face. It was nice seeing her in the daylight for the first time. Fresh. "How did you sleep?", he asked, already reaching out to pour some coffee into her mug. It was as though his body was getting ahead of him, he couldn't sit still. He was greedy to see what this day would bring them.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Victoria, perhaps a little confused, let out a small laugh. The night before, Victoria thought that she had found a friend. The two of them seemed to be exactly on the same page, about many things. They liked some of the same music, movies, even philosophers. Who knew they would end up debating Plato, half drunk before falling into bed together. Victoria, though pessimist by nature, actually had hope of a good vacation.

The thought of Jason came up once or twice while she was with Tylio, that she was committing the very same marital sin that her husband was committing. She liked to think she was better than that but, it was not fair that he had all the fun.

"Fine. I'll meet you downstairs, in about fifteen minutes." Did she want to spend more time with him? Yes. Would she avoid sleeping with him again? She would try. Victoria tapped her phone screen with her nail. "Duty calls." The woman made her exit, and a low breath left her. For about a few weeks now, Victoria has been speaking to a divorce lawyer back in the States. In about three weeks, Victoria needed to return to her reality, to face the man she thought she loved and cut that part of her life off.

---

TIMESKIP

Here you go. [IMG Attachment] Give it a good read when you have the chance.

The text was from her lawyer, who had just sent her the official copy of her divorce papers. Victoria held off for now, suddenly even looking at the document made her stomach turn. Her eyes fell on Tylio at the breakfast table, and a sense of calm occurred within her. "Is this seat taken?"

Though he noticed the way her face sort of fell when she glanced at her phone, he didn't think much of it. She had told him last night about how her job was stressful sometimes, it may very well be a work related thing. He knew about work stress better than anybody. But being here, with her, spending the night together, it had been a welcome escape and he was not ready to go back to the regular state of affairs. He didn't think she was either. They seemed so completely on one page last night that her next statement felt like it came entirely out of the blue.

A one time thing.

"A one time thing?" He repeated the words, they didn't sit right in his mouth. His smile was still present, because he didn't believe her. She was messing with him. She'd done that a few times last night, too, she was really good at playful sarcasm when she was in a good mood. She was witty. She knew how to banter. It was one of the things he liked about her. So he played along.

"Sure, yeah, a one time thing. So we can get breakfast just once, right? Share coffee, just one time. Maybe exchange numbers, once."

Victoria didn't really know what she was thinking, when falling to bed with this stranger. It was fun though, it was the most fun she'd had in ages. The entire reason behind her little vacation was stupid in the beginning, but now she found herself glad she took it. As soon as she set foot in the warm climate, the wind blowing her copper hair, she could relax. Vic continued to search for her heels, finding one under a chair. This man, Tylio, was nice enough. Handsome too, he was her type. The woman laughed. "You sure have a way with words, don't you?" Victoria reached for her phone, and surely enough there was at least 15 texts from her fiancee.

Answer me.

Where are you???

Please, I'm sorry. It was one time.

It was the same excuses over and over, even before she left. The woman sighed. "Look, last night was great but..." Her blunt nature came in handy in this case. As much as she liked him, she could not let this go further than it needed. "It was a one time thing. An amazing thing, but let's just leave it at that."