"the boy with the tattoos on nearly every inch of his body is a narcissist and ignores everything that doesn't affect him? mm, didn't see it coming." he jests, of course, because for anyone to sit across from knox and let him get away with slander certainly isn't narcissistic. and there's no bigger narcissist than knox himself. 

he raises a brow. a momma's boy, then? knox very much can't relate. and his first thought is that's fuckin' weird, but he lets it slide because it might not be weird. that might be what 'normal' families are like. 

sheesh.

"ah, and we'll have so much of it, until we don't," he says. he picks up his glass and waits to clink against sam's. "to time, and to doing as fucking much as we can with what we're given."

samuel carter

☉

knox sounds like a man walking to the gallows. somehow, sam finds it attractive, and it causes his brain to stutter. he nearly drops his glass, but firmly grips it with his fingertips as he realizes what's happening.

he's attracted to knox. he knew that, but now it's sunk in, and it's information he's never really known what to do with before. no, he's never had to deal with it before.

his sip is delayed, but he takes it and licks his lips. it's sour, the alcohol is odd, and he'd rather be drinking grape juice or straight whiskey.

"how expensive is this bottle?"

knox prescott

one brow goes up and he pauses on his way to his sip. for a moment there, it looks like the beautiful white tablecloth is about to get soaked in red wine, but sam recovers, thankfully, and the ritual of the toast is finished. it's plain on sam's face that he has no taste for it. knox doesn't drink very much wine either, but he's always fancied how he feels when getting wine-drunk. it's so much easier than liquor. 

knox shrugs his shoulders. "hell if i know. i nicked one of the company cards when i saw my sister dear the other day, thought i might as well have fun with it before she realizes what's happened." his lips quirk.

"i told you i wanted to take you to dinner. so i'll worry about the price tag and you worry about letting me wine you and dine you." and sixty-nine you. 

samuel carter

☉

"if you insist...you seem relaxed."

confident, but sam didn't voice that. he'd learned if he said things like, 'you look <adjective>' people got offended and asked if they looked the opposite before. well, clearly, because he wouldn't have pointed it out otherwise.

he opted for relaxed because being 'tense' was far more tolerable socially than lacking confidence.

truth be told, he liked seeing knox like this. he liked confident knox, and he wondered how he could see more of it, more frequently, and suddenly he was frustrated his schedule was so busy.

knox prescott

"i'm on a date with someone who, for once, has me beat with sticking out like a sore thumb. of course i'm relaxed," he says. "i thrive with an audience and that's just what you get me." and with that, he tilts his head to the couple who'd been casting furtive glances at them this entire time. 

he can't blame them. of course boring, lesser peoples would be intrigued by the no-fucks-given attitude and demeanor of the boys at this restaurant.

sam's brow crumples, only slightly, and it's a look knox hasn't seen enough to know its exact nuances, but he looks a bit...displeased. he puts two and two together (or so he thinks) and comments, "you look like someone just pinched you. if you don't like the wine, you don't have to drink it. i won't be offended."

samuel carter

☉

"no, i don't, actually. it took me a few sips, but i do not like it."

he's rather robotic about the fact, setting it down away from himself and picking up the water instead. he takes a drink, swishes, swallows. much better.

"but i was just thinking about my schedule, and how packed it is with various things. i'll have to stop taking side-jobs from the league to make time for you."

looking to knox, he smiles.

"they're not necessary, so i don't mind dropping them. i've been noticed enough for now, i think. many know me as mt. pyre's sexton, by name as well."

yes, he only took jobs and did the region's festivals to notably spread the information that he was the new caretaker of mt. pyre, it's fine.

knox prescott

well, here's to hoping his choice of food had hit the mark. the soup comes to the table and knox thanks marcy for having the kitchen split it for them. he looks over his steaming bowl (gods, it smells so good) at sam and appreciates his thoughts. he doesn't want to burst his bubble, but unfortunately knox does rely on his supply of jobs for his income now. 

he shifts in his seat. "don't do anything rash now. i'm a busy bee myself. i actually wanted to see you tonight 'cause i don't think i'll have time til' the party." he smiles apologetically. 

he almost snorts soup all over himself. "mt. pyre's what now?"

samuel carter

☉

"sexton." he repeats the word, and then brings along the definition thanks to that eidetic memory of his. "noun. a person who looks after a church and churchyard, sometimes acting as bell-ringer and formerly as a gravedigger."

the soup looks good and he's much more reciprocative of it. he appreciates the taste, the smell, and shows as much with a content swallow of a spoonful.

"more accurately i'm the caretaker, the cryptkeeper, gravedigger, and so on. but sexton came with the previous owner and it's something i've defaulted to because it's shorter."

then he smiles at knox.

"ironically, i'm always explaining it to others, so perhaps it's not shorter, in the long run."

ah, what a fun play on words. he's smiling because of it, and because the soup and company are a nice combination.

knox prescott

his face changes, almost like he's reading something in front of him, and it's so fascinating knox actually shuts his trap instead of poking fun at him. so he really didn't copy and paste that definition when we were texting. he'd been impressed for a short time with sam's tech-savviness in that instance, but this makes a whole lot more sense. somehow. 

"gravedigger or head of a freaky harem; it's hot either way." he smiles, not because of his own words, but because sam is enjoying the food. 

he finally takes his own real sip and melts, just a little. it's one of his favorite dishes, and partly why he'd chosen the restaurant in the first place. "is your mom still in kanto then?" he asks. 

samuel carter

☉

the head of a freaky harem bit got him, made him chuckle into his soup and smile wide to contain his amusement. he's never one to turn down a dark joke, including the idea that sam's practicing necrophilia on the side.

he is not, he so is not; the bodies are too cold. n-not that that's the only reason, obviously.

the question about his mom brings him from the humor and sobers him a bit. talking about her wasn't a sore subject, it was light and had him relaxing a bit.

"she refuses to leave the pokémon tower in anybody else's hands. my original goal was to train up a successor here by the time i'm thirty, then head back to kanto, and take over the tower so she can retire."

given that she'd only be forty-eight by the time she retired, she could live out some of those dreams she had back when she was young, before life gave her him and put a pause on her dreams.

"i'm not sure that goal has changed, just yet. but no successor is really showing themselves. a lot of people interested in ghosts, but none interested on a life in solitude atop a mountain."

which by his tone sounds bizarre cause to him it is. the mountain is just so peaceful!

knox prescott

he's never much worried about the future. but he's starting to realize that it's harder to live every day like it's your last, especially when you're wracking your brain, thinking when can i see you next? because it's about scheduling and planning and creating a future. 

and he's thinking about this as sam is telling him his own future, like some backwards oracle. and knox is finding it in him to think well, that's not ideal, because he prefers the future murky, prefers it able to change and shape and be shaped by the present. 

"mm, well not everyone's dying to stay on the mountain like you." a cheap shot? probably. but he wants to hear more of sam's laugh. 

he shrugs. "can't say i'm upset no one's piqued your interest. i'm very selfish. and i don't like sharing. where would i find myself if you had another one of you taking up more of your time?"

samuel carter

☉

and more of sam's laugh is exactly what that warrants. he has the humor of a dad and a mortician, which he is one of those things (the mortician obvs), so he smirks and looks to knox, shaking his head. because no, not everybody is dying to be on a mass grave of a mountain like him.

"i've had suitors approach me i just... don't take well to them, or they don't mesh well with me."

most of them told him he was robotic and slapped him. he'd accepted this about himself and simply moved past it. decided he was meant to live alone. engrossed himself in stories of romance and grand gestures from novels and games instead when he had the itch for it.

"so either you're in luck, or this was fated all along." at 'this' he gestures with his index finger between the both of them.

knox prescott

he doesn't know whether sam's successor was meant to be his lover, or if the boy's mind just happens to be on their date now. "sounds like a them problem," knox says with a shrug. "because i think you're fantastic." people always have more to them than meets the eye. sure, on the surface sam is blunt, but that doesn't make him an asshole, or rude, or stupid. it makes him genuine. 

he takes a couple more sips of the soup, larger now that it's cooled significantly. "so you're saying i shouldn't act on impulse and try to ward away any potential successors just so i can keep you all to myself."

he rests his spoon against the bowl. it doesn't take much to fill his stomach and he wants to save what little room he has for more of their dinner. "do you believe in fate? starcrossed lovers and all that romantic shit?"

samuel carter

☉