[It's not as if Hugo had actually planned to commandeer this suite in Starloop tonight, but it had been Lycaon's idea.
No, if it had been up to Hugo personally, the night would have rounded off with them parting ways--Lycaon to attend to the rest of the business with the banquet cleanup, and Hugo to continue wrapping up the seemingly infinite loose ends left in the Sacrifice fiasco's wake...which has been his main preoccupation for pretty much the last week or so, after the dust of the whole affair finally settled. Honestly, all things considered, this whole little diversion about illegal mining and wealthy drama and flowers that look more like Ethereals had been a refreshingly amusing bit of distraction. More than enough to rejuvenate on its own. He could probably get a whole extra week of business done running on the petty satisfaction from this event alone--and so what if he's barely slept in several days? Wouldn't just about anyone agree, that most things are far more easily done at night?
Naturally, he hadn't admitted anything of the sort to Lycaon at any point. But as usual, somehow, the man had managed to pick up on his sleep deficit anyway. Perhaps spotting his slightly more sluggish reflexes lately...or perhaps catching that one yawn Hugo hadn't quite managed to entirely conceal a few hours ago, during their little impromptu 'date' following the banquet. ...Hmm. He'll have to be sure not to slip up so easily going forward. Hugo still finds himself frequently caught off-guard by just how much Lycaon does seem to remember about his habits. Almost as if the many years apart hadn't transpired at all. As if those sorts of memories had never truly dulled for him.
...It's still a very odd feeling, to consider this. Hugo hasn't set aside much time to examine it yet. He's not quite sure what he'll find if he ever actually does--what it even ought to be called--because it's certainly not anger, not anymore. Not resentment, or any particular form of guilt. The lead weight has turned into something much lighter. Almost as if...
Well, anyway.
It's not without a lot of fuss and back-and-forth, but Lycaon had been insistent--that Hugo stay put for at least one night, that he prove he actually still remembers how to sleep--so thus, in the end...here he is, now. With relatively free reign over Lycaon's suite for the evening. Certainly very plush accommodations, as luxury facilities go; guests visiting Starloop rarely accept any less, after all, and it's unsurprising that Victoria Housekeeping would be serving a client affluent enough to afford them such housing for the occasion. (Well, not that said client's going to be half so affluent by tomorrow, very funnily...) Hugo is no stranger to such decadence, but it's...nice. Maybe for the sheer lack of strings attached, for once. The fact it's not a necessity for some particularly convoluted operation, or a favor clearly being curried, but simply...Lycaon being overly generous, as usual. Claiming he'll be too busy to properly use it tonight anyhow. ("And you're telling me to get sleep?" The ensuing bickering over varying gradients of hypocrisy had comprised most of the walk back to the building--)
Tempting as it had briefly and vaguely been to maybe slip out through the window just to be contrarian anyhow, such petty notions are dampened by the fact that--well, he is a little tired. A hot shower had at least felt in order. A hot shower goes a long way indeed. Half an hour after being dropped off, Hugo emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, tugging a towel through long hair that falls about his shoulders in damp golden strands. Suffused in the scent of (one of) Lycaon's shampoos, and...entirely nude, save for some lingering water droplets on pale skin.
--Look, he wouldn't have stepped out entirely nude if he'd known Lycaon would already be back in here for some reason?
All plans to raid the nearest dresser for a bathrobe grind to a prompt halt. Hugo pauses outside the bathroom doorway, arms still half-upraised drying his hair, and arches his eyebrows at his impromptu audience.]
My, if you were looking for a show I could have made this entrance far more elegant. ...Did you forget something?
no subject
No, if it had been up to Hugo personally, the night would have rounded off with them parting ways--Lycaon to attend to the rest of the business with the banquet cleanup, and Hugo to continue wrapping up the seemingly infinite loose ends left in the Sacrifice fiasco's wake...which has been his main preoccupation for pretty much the last week or so, after the dust of the whole affair finally settled. Honestly, all things considered, this whole little diversion about illegal mining and wealthy drama and flowers that look more like Ethereals had been a refreshingly amusing bit of distraction. More than enough to rejuvenate on its own. He could probably get a whole extra week of business done running on the petty satisfaction from this event alone--and so what if he's barely slept in several days? Wouldn't just about anyone agree, that most things are far more easily done at night?
Naturally, he hadn't admitted anything of the sort to Lycaon at any point. But as usual, somehow, the man had managed to pick up on his sleep deficit anyway. Perhaps spotting his slightly more sluggish reflexes lately...or perhaps catching that one yawn Hugo hadn't quite managed to entirely conceal a few hours ago, during their little impromptu 'date' following the banquet. ...Hmm. He'll have to be sure not to slip up so easily going forward. Hugo still finds himself frequently caught off-guard by just how much Lycaon does seem to remember about his habits. Almost as if the many years apart hadn't transpired at all. As if those sorts of memories had never truly dulled for him.
...It's still a very odd feeling, to consider this. Hugo hasn't set aside much time to examine it yet. He's not quite sure what he'll find if he ever actually does--what it even ought to be called--because it's certainly not anger, not anymore. Not resentment, or any particular form of guilt. The lead weight has turned into something much lighter. Almost as if...
Well, anyway.
It's not without a lot of fuss and back-and-forth, but Lycaon had been insistent--that Hugo stay put for at least one night, that he prove he actually still remembers how to sleep--so thus, in the end...here he is, now. With relatively free reign over Lycaon's suite for the evening. Certainly very plush accommodations, as luxury facilities go; guests visiting Starloop rarely accept any less, after all, and it's unsurprising that Victoria Housekeeping would be serving a client affluent enough to afford them such housing for the occasion. (Well, not that said client's going to be half so affluent by tomorrow, very funnily...) Hugo is no stranger to such decadence, but it's...nice. Maybe for the sheer lack of strings attached, for once. The fact it's not a necessity for some particularly convoluted operation, or a favor clearly being curried, but simply...Lycaon being overly generous, as usual. Claiming he'll be too busy to properly use it tonight anyhow. ("And you're telling me to get sleep?" The ensuing bickering over varying gradients of hypocrisy had comprised most of the walk back to the building--)
Tempting as it had briefly and vaguely been to maybe slip out through the window just to be contrarian anyhow, such petty notions are dampened by the fact that--well, he is a little tired. A hot shower had at least felt in order. A hot shower goes a long way indeed. Half an hour after being dropped off, Hugo emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, tugging a towel through long hair that falls about his shoulders in damp golden strands. Suffused in the scent of (one of) Lycaon's shampoos, and...entirely nude, save for some lingering water droplets on pale skin.
--Look, he wouldn't have stepped out entirely nude if he'd known Lycaon would already be back in here for some reason?
All plans to raid the nearest dresser for a bathrobe grind to a prompt halt. Hugo pauses outside the bathroom doorway, arms still half-upraised drying his hair, and arches his eyebrows at his impromptu audience.]
My, if you were looking for a show I could have made this entrance far more elegant. ...Did you forget something?