Gnomebody

"So, survival training sounds fun, what //do// will I have to do?"

Dimo glanced Maxim over, taking in the gold filigrees on his brown vest and breeches, //and the too-whiteness of his shirt, //wondering //and shook his head in disapproval. It was probably the plainest outfit Maxim owned, and yet it was still far too fancy for what Dimo was about to put the boy through. At least Maxim had listened when he said not to dress up. "Are/Iz hyu sure dot's vhat hyu vant to be vearink for dis?" he asked, lips pursed and an eyebrow arched.

"Well." Maxim frowned, puuting his hands on his hips and looking down at himself. "You said not to wear anything I would mind getting dirty

“Hyu know, most pipple who take de Jaegerdraught ain't got nuttin' left to lose,” Dimo mused, glancing at Ognian out of the corner of his eyes.

Immediately, the blond bristled, puffing out his broad chest as he rounded on the other man. “You think I have something to lose?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes challengingly.

Dimo shrugged, spreading his hands noncommittally. “Hyu wife und keeds might say hyu do.

“It's their right to worry. They aren't here. I'm asking if you think I got something to lose. Do you think I won't make it?”

Shaking his head, Dimo stepped back, raising his hands a little higher. It was as much of a defensive gesture as it was placating; Oggie's temper was the stuff of legends if you got on the wrong side of it, and the Jaeger was pretty sure that would be the force that carried the human on to the other side.

“Nah, hyu gonna be fine,” he reassured Oggie, flashing a quick, sly grin. “Hyu gonna get zo pizzed, hyu gonna knock dot schtuff flat, ey? H'all Hy em sayink iz dot most pipple, de vuns vhat take de draught, vhedder dey liff or die, vell...”

He shrugged, looking down at himself with a small frown, then back up again, waving his arm at the ramparts along which they strolled. “Dis iz all ve gots, hyu know? Dis army, dis life, de Heterodynes... Hyu got a wife, keeds, pipple who luff hyu. Ain't sayink hyu von't make it, chust dot

“Oh.” That brought Oggie's anger up short, and for a moment, he simply stood there, blinking owlishly at Dimo. “That's... oddly thoughtful for you, Dimo.”

“Heh.” He bowed his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a shrug. “Iz a t'ought, yah. Hyu vife might haff put it dere by t'reatenink to bash my skull in vit her rollink pin.”

“Ah, sweet Grizelda...”



















“But now you have something to lose, too, you know,” Oggie winked, gesturing down the walkway. Dimo shot him a look of confusion, glancing in the direction the man had indicated without really knowing what he expected to see. What was there /What he saw brought him up short.

Though the figure's back faced them, there was no mistaking who it was – after all, no one else he could think of dressed with such precise vanity. Sharply heeled boots came up to the back of the knees, the black leather, polished until it shined like obsidian, were sculpted so that they perfectly hugged the curves of the calves, emphasizing their already gorgeous shape.

He must have looked like he'd been smacked with a brick, because the slap on the back Oggie gave him was nearly enough to drop Dimo to his knees. “That boy's had you wrapped around his little finger since the day he sat in your lap. I don't care how much you say you don't want kids, Dimo, but you've clearly adopted that one.”

Sigh. You could always trust Oggie to be so completely oblivious to everything.

Depressed and feeling invisible again. Shouldn't be, since I'm at work and it's not like I have time to do shit, but still.

Gnome, you can't be friends with everybody. Stop being hard on yourself when you're not.