[The stretch of seconds before Cardan finally looks at him again, finally deigns to reply to the words flung his way, drags on miserably. Liem waits in unhappy silence, and when his husband finally aims his gaze his way again, he tries to harden himself against the chill in that look.
But he cannot prepare himself for Cardan's reply. He feels colour rise in his cheeks to accompany the furious stare he aims down at him. Liem would not have imagined that such a comprehensive twisting of his words could even be considered true enough to pass his husband's lips.]
With listening skills like yours, I doubt there's any point in me even telling you.
[He suddenly doesn't see the point in any of this; all he seems to be doing is providing Cardan with fuel to add to the blaze that has sprung up where a workable marriage previously was. Abandoning his tense regard of his spouse, he turns away to sit once more at his desk, frowning at the paperwork on it like he's attempting to burn a hole through it.]
[ There is sick satisfaction in watching that lilac tint flood Liem's face -- in knowing he's hit on a nerve. Cardan doesn't know if he's ever seen his husband this incensed, and some ugly part of him will never not feed on it.
But he is too greedy about this, too. ]
Oh, don't be a coward, [ he sneers, reflexively. ] You're the one who started the fight. So go on, tell me why you're angry with me.
[ He suspects Liem thinks that he already has -- but whatever it is, it is so far beyond Cardan's comprehension that it might as well rest at the bottom of the Undersea.
And he is, admittedly, flagging a little bit; all the hot irritation in his veins seems to be intent on translating to jitters, which is not a condition he encounters often. Perhaps abandoning the teacup was a poor decision after all. He only knows that he needs this to reach some kind of conclusion, and soon, as the frustrating mystery of Liem's grievance is only going to torture him otherwise. ]
...Because I cannot fathom what it is that you wanted me to have done.
[Perhaps Liem is cowardly for turning his back on Cardan, for refusing to meet that disdainful look any longer. The familiar, unthreatening stretch of his desk before him does seem a little bit like a refuge; he’d even rather deal with Gusairne’s joyless, nitpicky input again than continue to argue with his own lover and companion. Even if Cardan is right, and he started this fight to begin with, he has neither the desire nor the fortitude to continue it.
For a little while he just shuffles through his papers, reacquainting himself with the duties that the past hour had so thoroughly wiped from his mind. It seems as though he might just ignore Cardan entirely—another jab at him, something he knows his husband cannot stand, to repay him for his cruelty. This is, after all, more feasible to do with Cardan recuperating halfway across the room.
But he does not wish to fight with him in this way, either.]
I don’t want to be the instrument through which you harm yourself, [he says.] What I need is for you to understand this, and not offer me your blood if you already feel unwell.
[ He is starting to think Liem has decided to ignore him entirely, which is -- admittedly -- the single most effective tactic he could have employed in regards to winning the argument. Cardan already knows that his husband is endlessly patient; he would not be entirely confident that he could win a standoff in which Liem refused to engage him.
It's just that he will never be able to leave well enough alone.
But just as he is about to follow his question up with something awful and poisonous, Liem speaks. Immediately, his frown deepens, partially in an effort to hide his surprise. When put like that, it sounds eminently reasonable a request. A little fussy, maybe, but he had known this about Liem already. ]
You say that like I did it on purpose, [ he will complain eventually, though his tone has lost some of its acidic spite. He reaches for the teacup again -- glad, at least, that Liem has decided to not look his way, because his hands are shakier than he wants them to be. It just means he won't bother with the saucer. ]
Surely you don't think I planned for this to happen.
[No, Liem doesn't look back at Cardan just yet. He isn't yet confident that that tinge of violet has left his face, and the prospect of marshalling his composure to look at his husband steadily again is yet a little daunting. He had not intended to let his emotions run away with him the way they did; he doesn't want to give them purchase again.]
No… I don't think you planned it.
[He will concede here; Cardan's naked scepticism in the face of the doctor's diagnosis made it clear enough he hadn't imagined Liem's blood-drinking might be behind his faintness and fatigue. He does not really believe that Cardan got to this point simply because he didn't care.
But he also isn't convinced that Cardan does care.]
You might have said something earlier, though. And you didn't have to fight me about not biting you for a while.
[Those aren't the actions of a man who is overly conscious of his health—and in the moment, it had seemed to Liem that Cardan wasn't willing to care about it at all, even though Liem obviously did.]
[ The tea is lukewarm now. Cardan drinks it down in one long swallow, then sets the cup in his lap and tips his head over the back of the couch. His eyes slide closed.
It is strange to be furious and then not, like all the fire were drained from his veins. He refuses to let it make him tentative. ]
Yes, I did. Weeks is puritan and unnecessary, lest your purpose is punishment.
[ He pauses, then opens his eyes to the beautifully moulded ceiling. ]
And I did not wish to needlessly alarm you.
[ It's the truth, which is why he can say it. He's exceptionally shameless, which is why he says it with a straight face.
He could probably pretend he didn't know. He has enough practice in deception -- inward-facing and otherwise -- to spin a web of plausible deniability. But in the end, he knows the truth of the matter: something had been wrong for weeks, and he had pushed past it because he knew with absolute certainty that his husband would make an enormous fuss if he didn't. Better to hold on to his secrets until he could puzzle out their meaning on his own.
Besides, mere dizziness had not seemed so perilous then. ]
[Finally, Liem lifts his gaze from his papers, turning in his seat to watch his husband tip his head back toward the ceiling. The distance between them strikes him as lonely, but he knows it’s just his own longing for comfort that’s to blame.
He doesn’t think punishment is the doctor’s intent in warning him away from biting her patient, but it’s possible that it is Liem’s intent in doing as she wants. Who he might be punishing, though, he couldn’t quite say.]
You’ve alarmed me regardless of your wishes.
[He observes the white line of his husband's throat, and has to admit to himself that there is no amount of anger that would truly goad him into permitting another’s fangs to touch it. The alarm the thought stirs in him rivals that which had spiked down his spine when he’d seen Cardan collapse in the first place. Even though his ire has passed, worry keeps his expression stern.]
I’d prefer if you permitted me the chance to help you sooner rather than later. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?
Naturally. [ He says it like the question is too obvious for the asking. Why would he engage in unsuccessful charades? That would be embarrassing -- it's embarrassing now, or would be, if he let it.
Though he will admit that it was unwise to have no endgame in mind for a problem that only seemed to be escalating.
He tilts his face to the side so that he can look at Liem. Cardan cannot tell whether his husband is still angry; certainly the fact the is still at his desk suggests so. He thinks, with a pang of strange longing, of the gentle lips at his brow just an hour ago, when Liem hadn't yet thought him a villain in this affair.
But he supposes asking him to come over would only show Liem that he is truly unwell. ]
Do you expect me to believe you would not have done the same?
[ He recalls too well the journey across the ocean and the way his husband had withheld his weakness to water from him until they were about to embark on their flight. Surely Liem cannot claim that he is forthcoming when it comes to his own private troubles. ]
[Liem isn’t sure how to feel about the idea that he was never supposed to find out that Cardan had been unwell. Had he hoped the illness would pass, or simply avoided thinking about it, assuming he’d cross that bridge when it became necessary? Would he have sought a cure to his ailment in secret too, if he could? Liem is not used to feeling like his husband is actively keeping things from him, at least not important things, and he finds himself disliking this new experience immensely.
Then his husband asks a question that Liem, abruptly, realizes he doesn’t have an answer for. He would like to argue that slowly coming down with a mystery ailment is different from planning a trip across the sea, but perhaps Cardan would not have thought it worthwhile to bring Liem along if he’d known the whole time how dangerous the journey might be for him. He can’t truthfully say his reticence was of no consequence at all.
For a long moment, he simply frowns at his husband, trying to figure out something to say that isn’t just No, of course I wouldn’t have said anything—but it doesn’t matter if I’m unwell.]
If I am more forthcoming about my [private, irrelevant] troubles, will that convince you to trouble me with yours?
[ Cardan frowns. It's kind of a shitty offer -- "more forthcoming" is about as vague as one can get, and he's fairly certain that Liem would just deem most of his problems as not-bad-enough to be considered troubles and go on exactly as he had. It's not like he can specify a quota of difficulties Liem is to bring to him each fortnight.
On the other hand, it's become abundantly clear that unless he wants a repeat of this fight -- or, worse, have his husband simply clam up and refuse to admit he's unhappy -- something will have to change. If another illness or problem befell him, would he be able to keep it from Liem completely? He might, but it seems risky. Something tells him that Liem would take a second time as a far more grave betrayal.
...which is, in the end, the problem, is it not: he wants Liem to trust him, even if Cardan doesn't quite trust him, at least not about this. ]
That would depend, [ is what he says, ] on what you actually tell me, husband.
[Liem regards his husband for another moment, his frown softening by degrees. That reply is not the kind of ironclad guarantee that Liem would have preferred—but he knows that such agreements come more dearly to Cardan than to him, or indeed anyone else he knows. Even if he wishes his husband would be more open with him, he cannot find it in him to be cross about this, particularly on the heels of an argument he’s eager to leave behind them.]
You may always ask after my troubles yourself, Cardan. But I will endeavour to be more convincing in future.
[Whatever that entails. Cardan is probably right to be skeptical of how forthright Liem actually will be about his own concerns, because there are very few of his private worries he can think of that aren’t either completely trivial or dire enough that he’s loath to speak them aloud to anyone.
But that is a problem for another time. For now, Liem gathers up some reports sitting further down the pile of papers, to be read later, and takes them with him as he crosses the room to perch on the couch next to his husband.]
[ He's a little surprised to find Liem moving towards him -- surprised, because it's easier to admit to than the relief that flutters against the inside of his chest, just underneath his collarbones. It's stupid, to want the physical comfort of Liem's touch when he'd just made a big show of how tough he was. That doesn't, of course, stop him from wanting.
At Liem's question, he casts his eye to the tray with its teapot and assorted finger foods, largely untouched save for the teacup in his lap and the crushed bit of croissant he had, at some point, dropped from his grasp. ]
Someone distracted me, [ he'll point out. He's not, actually, tremendously hungry -- the same jittery unease that has gripped him for some time now has settled oddly in his stomach. But even Cardan is sensible enough to know that he should eat, if only as a show of good faith.
He'll lean forward to set the cup down on its saucer, then pour more tea into it -- valiantly ignoring the fact that his husband is right there, and for some reason still not touching him. Then he plucks a tea sandwich from the beautifully arranged platter and gets to work.
Though not before glancing over at Liem to ask, ] And what are your troubles, then?
[ He's not expecting to glean anything important -- not tonight. But Liem surely couldn't expect him to leave the bait alone. ]
[Liem raises his eyebrows ever so slightly when Cardan pounces immediately on his suggestion. His husband is ever greedy for his secrets, even as he jealously hoards his own. This, at least, is familiar enough to be a little comforting.]
Foremost at the moment is the quantity of work keeping me from enjoying my husband's company as I would wish.
[Technically, the doctor's orders are also keeping him from doing this, at least if he wants to do anything that might make Cardan excited. But he has not had such a wealth of leisure time to spend with his husband that they have previously had much of it left outside of sexual escapades, and he finds the prospect of stealing Cardan's company for himself for chaste reasons is only made more appealing because of its continued impossibility.
He glances down at the papers on his lap, which stare balefully up at him. They are, unfortunately, only one part of a pile of duties that all need prompt tending to.]
Also, I suppose I will need to source my blood elsewhere until you have fully recovered your vigour.
[ Cardan can't help the way his eyes narrow at the suggestion that Liem drink from anyone else. He wants to protest -- Liem had made a promise, and not one Cardan had released him from.
Unfortunately, even Cardan understands that convincing Liem to drink from him anytime soon will be a lost cause. Even if he were willing to risk Cardan's (apparently oh-so-fragile) health, Cardan has to assume he is not going to risk the doctor's wrath. The little interlude from earlier has made it painfully clear that out of all of them, the one holding the room's reins was she.
He's going to find out how and why, but that's a riddle for a later time. Right now, he lets himself frown as he balances the teacup once more against his own lap. ]
And where is that, Liem?
[ He can't help sounding sullen about it, though, even as he turns his attention to the business of eating. If it helps convince Liem that he's recuperating, so be it: he will eat and drink and nap himself to oblivion. ]
[Liem cannot observe the souring of his husband’s expression without feeling guilt roll over in his stomach, or without wanting to ease away that sullen note that has entered his demeanour. He does not wish to interrupt Cardan’s activities, but he is nonetheless tempted into reaching over to stroke cool fingers gently through his hair.
He has not quite understood his husband’s unhappy mood, mistaking his displeasure as simply being the result of Liem’s stubbornness in refusing to drink his blood. But, he thinks, it will only cause uncertainty if he disobeys the doctor’s advice and Cardan doesn’t get better. They won’t know if it is hasty sipping causing problems, or some other unknown issue. At least this way, if Cardan’s doubt is well founded, they will discover the discrepancy more easily.]
The forest, of course.
[He says this with the enthusiasm of a man declaring his intention to eat nothing but rice crackers for the next two weeks.]
Usually I would only partake for ritual reasons, but the wolves are never averse to a hunt.
[ It's sometimes annoying just how easily Liem can tame his anger with simple touch. Cardan has to fight the urge to lean into his hand; as is, the tension bleeds from him, leaving his shoulders to slump a bit. After a moment's internal struggle, he sighs and gives in anyway, tilting his head to the touch of those gentle fingers. ]
You are planning to sup on wildlife?
[ That has... actually not occurred to him at all. Would an animal's blood even nourish Liem? Besides which, he has trouble picturing his eternally put-together, fussy spouse-- no, actually, that's not true. He can picture him too well, all glowing eyes and face smeared with crimson above the steaming wound on some freshly felled creature's throat.
It's just that sometimes it's easy to forget that he's wed an apex predator.
Cardan considers this as he chews, moodily, on his sandwich. ]
[The way his cross, impatient husband still allows himself to be placated with his idle caress does put a small smile in Liem’s heart, even if he deliberately keeps it from his face. For the moment, the papers in his lap lie forgotten in favour of petting Cardan’s glossy black curls and watching the tense angles of his posture soften by degrees.]
It would hardly be the first time.
[He’s supped on enough wild game during full moons, on ritual hunts to celebrate holy nights. On those occasions the hunt itself is more important than drinking any significant amount of blood, so his kills do tend to be smaller and less messy—but when coming back from a hunt, there's no disguising the red staining his mouth and the traces of the forest still clinging to his clothes.]
The flavour is about as flat as you might imagine, but it suffices, particularly if the kill is large.
[Deer’s or boar’s blood may not compare to Cardan’s, or even to a human’s, but after a couple litres, the craving for blood is definitely gone—though perhaps because at that point he just can’t stomach the thought of drinking any more.]
[ Sometimes Cardan catches himself ruing that he is not a better man -- the kind of person who would offer Liem an exemption from his promise, so that he wouldn't have to resort to hunting wild game for his sustenance. But he isn't, and so he doesn't. After all -- what if being allowed to drink from mortals lessens Liem's temptation for Cardan's vein? What if he becomes content to wait whole weeks, as per the doctor's horrid suggestion? No; Cardan would keep his thirst fresh, even if it makes his husband's days a little more tiresome and unpleasant.
So he doesn't offer Liem anything -- except for the arm that sneaks out to wrap around his waist and pull him insistently closer to Cardan's side. If he's going to sit close to Cardan, he may as well be touching more than just his hair. Besides, Liem's scent remains ever comforting.
And he is strangely eager to leave the fight behind, to reassure himself of Liem's affection now that he seems to have regained it. ]
[When Cardan’s free arm snakes around Liem to pull him closer, Liem uses this opportunity to lean in and brush a kiss against his jaw. He fits himself comfortably against Cardan’s side, bringing his papers with him as though cuddled up to his husband on the office couch is the natural place for him to read over reports—which it largely is now, when he can get away with it. After all the unpleasantness of the last hour, relief buzzes persistently beneath his skin at the chance to steal a little familiar comfort he hadn’t even known he’d wanted.
It makes focusing even on reading difficult, but he makes a decent effort of it, letting his husband eat while Liem absentmindedly strokes his hair and sticks to him like a lonely snowflake. It is only once Cardan finishes with his lunch that Liem peels himself free, draping a heavy blanket over his spouse and stealing a brief kiss before resigning himself to tackling the rest of the work on his desk.]
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But he cannot prepare himself for Cardan's reply. He feels colour rise in his cheeks to accompany the furious stare he aims down at him. Liem would not have imagined that such a comprehensive twisting of his words could even be considered true enough to pass his husband's lips.]
With listening skills like yours, I doubt there's any point in me even telling you.
[He suddenly doesn't see the point in any of this; all he seems to be doing is providing Cardan with fuel to add to the blaze that has sprung up where a workable marriage previously was. Abandoning his tense regard of his spouse, he turns away to sit once more at his desk, frowning at the paperwork on it like he's attempting to burn a hole through it.]
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But he is too greedy about this, too. ]
Oh, don't be a coward, [ he sneers, reflexively. ] You're the one who started the fight. So go on, tell me why you're angry with me.
[ He suspects Liem thinks that he already has -- but whatever it is, it is so far beyond Cardan's comprehension that it might as well rest at the bottom of the Undersea.
And he is, admittedly, flagging a little bit; all the hot irritation in his veins seems to be intent on translating to jitters, which is not a condition he encounters often. Perhaps abandoning the teacup was a poor decision after all. He only knows that he needs this to reach some kind of conclusion, and soon, as the frustrating mystery of Liem's grievance is only going to torture him otherwise. ]
...Because I cannot fathom what it is that you wanted me to have done.
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For a little while he just shuffles through his papers, reacquainting himself with the duties that the past hour had so thoroughly wiped from his mind. It seems as though he might just ignore Cardan entirely—another jab at him, something he knows his husband cannot stand, to repay him for his cruelty. This is, after all, more feasible to do with Cardan recuperating halfway across the room.
But he does not wish to fight with him in this way, either.]
I don’t want to be the instrument through which you harm yourself, [he says.] What I need is for you to understand this, and not offer me your blood if you already feel unwell.
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It's just that he will never be able to leave well enough alone.
But just as he is about to follow his question up with something awful and poisonous, Liem speaks. Immediately, his frown deepens, partially in an effort to hide his surprise. When put like that, it sounds eminently reasonable a request. A little fussy, maybe, but he had known this about Liem already. ]
You say that like I did it on purpose, [ he will complain eventually, though his tone has lost some of its acidic spite. He reaches for the teacup again -- glad, at least, that Liem has decided to not look his way, because his hands are shakier than he wants them to be. It just means he won't bother with the saucer. ]
Surely you don't think I planned for this to happen.
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No… I don't think you planned it.
[He will concede here; Cardan's naked scepticism in the face of the doctor's diagnosis made it clear enough he hadn't imagined Liem's blood-drinking might be behind his faintness and fatigue. He does not really believe that Cardan got to this point simply because he didn't care.
But he also isn't convinced that Cardan does care.]
You might have said something earlier, though. And you didn't have to fight me about not biting you for a while.
[Those aren't the actions of a man who is overly conscious of his health—and in the moment, it had seemed to Liem that Cardan wasn't willing to care about it at all, even though Liem obviously did.]
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It is strange to be furious and then not, like all the fire were drained from his veins. He refuses to let it make him tentative. ]
Yes, I did. Weeks is puritan and unnecessary, lest your purpose is punishment.
[ He pauses, then opens his eyes to the beautifully moulded ceiling. ]
And I did not wish to needlessly alarm you.
[ It's the truth, which is why he can say it. He's exceptionally shameless, which is why he says it with a straight face.
He could probably pretend he didn't know. He has enough practice in deception -- inward-facing and otherwise -- to spin a web of plausible deniability. But in the end, he knows the truth of the matter: something had been wrong for weeks, and he had pushed past it because he knew with absolute certainty that his husband would make an enormous fuss if he didn't. Better to hold on to his secrets until he could puzzle out their meaning on his own.
Besides, mere dizziness had not seemed so perilous then. ]
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He doesn’t think punishment is the doctor’s intent in warning him away from biting her patient, but it’s possible that it is Liem’s intent in doing as she wants. Who he might be punishing, though, he couldn’t quite say.]
You’ve alarmed me regardless of your wishes.
[He observes the white line of his husband's throat, and has to admit to himself that there is no amount of anger that would truly goad him into permitting another’s fangs to touch it. The alarm the thought stirs in him rivals that which had spiked down his spine when he’d seen Cardan collapse in the first place. Even though his ire has passed, worry keeps his expression stern.]
I’d prefer if you permitted me the chance to help you sooner rather than later. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?
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Though he will admit that it was unwise to have no endgame in mind for a problem that only seemed to be escalating.
He tilts his face to the side so that he can look at Liem. Cardan cannot tell whether his husband is still angry; certainly the fact the is still at his desk suggests so. He thinks, with a pang of strange longing, of the gentle lips at his brow just an hour ago, when Liem hadn't yet thought him a villain in this affair.
But he supposes asking him to come over would only show Liem that he is truly unwell. ]
Do you expect me to believe you would not have done the same?
[ He recalls too well the journey across the ocean and the way his husband had withheld his weakness to water from him until they were about to embark on their flight. Surely Liem cannot claim that he is forthcoming when it comes to his own private troubles. ]
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Then his husband asks a question that Liem, abruptly, realizes he doesn’t have an answer for. He would like to argue that slowly coming down with a mystery ailment is different from planning a trip across the sea, but perhaps Cardan would not have thought it worthwhile to bring Liem along if he’d known the whole time how dangerous the journey might be for him. He can’t truthfully say his reticence was of no consequence at all.
For a long moment, he simply frowns at his husband, trying to figure out something to say that isn’t just No, of course I wouldn’t have said anything—but it doesn’t matter if I’m unwell.]
If I am more forthcoming about my [private, irrelevant] troubles, will that convince you to trouble me with yours?
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On the other hand, it's become abundantly clear that unless he wants a repeat of this fight -- or, worse, have his husband simply clam up and refuse to admit he's unhappy -- something will have to change. If another illness or problem befell him, would he be able to keep it from Liem completely? He might, but it seems risky. Something tells him that Liem would take a second time as a far more grave betrayal.
...which is, in the end, the problem, is it not: he wants Liem to trust him, even if Cardan doesn't quite trust him, at least not about this. ]
That would depend, [ is what he says, ] on what you actually tell me, husband.
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You may always ask after my troubles yourself, Cardan. But I will endeavour to be more convincing in future.
[Whatever that entails. Cardan is probably right to be skeptical of how forthright Liem actually will be about his own concerns, because there are very few of his private worries he can think of that aren’t either completely trivial or dire enough that he’s loath to speak them aloud to anyone.
But that is a problem for another time. For now, Liem gathers up some reports sitting further down the pile of papers, to be read later, and takes them with him as he crosses the room to perch on the couch next to his husband.]
How are the refreshments treating you?
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At Liem's question, he casts his eye to the tray with its teapot and assorted finger foods, largely untouched save for the teacup in his lap and the crushed bit of croissant he had, at some point, dropped from his grasp. ]
Someone distracted me, [ he'll point out. He's not, actually, tremendously hungry -- the same jittery unease that has gripped him for some time now has settled oddly in his stomach. But even Cardan is sensible enough to know that he should eat, if only as a show of good faith.
He'll lean forward to set the cup down on its saucer, then pour more tea into it -- valiantly ignoring the fact that his husband is right there, and for some reason still not touching him. Then he plucks a tea sandwich from the beautifully arranged platter and gets to work.
Though not before glancing over at Liem to ask, ] And what are your troubles, then?
[ He's not expecting to glean anything important -- not tonight. But Liem surely couldn't expect him to leave the bait alone. ]
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Foremost at the moment is the quantity of work keeping me from enjoying my husband's company as I would wish.
[Technically, the doctor's orders are also keeping him from doing this, at least if he wants to do anything that might make Cardan excited. But he has not had such a wealth of leisure time to spend with his husband that they have previously had much of it left outside of sexual escapades, and he finds the prospect of stealing Cardan's company for himself for chaste reasons is only made more appealing because of its continued impossibility.
He glances down at the papers on his lap, which stare balefully up at him. They are, unfortunately, only one part of a pile of duties that all need prompt tending to.]
Also, I suppose I will need to source my blood elsewhere until you have fully recovered your vigour.
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Unfortunately, even Cardan understands that convincing Liem to drink from him anytime soon will be a lost cause. Even if he were willing to risk Cardan's (apparently oh-so-fragile) health, Cardan has to assume he is not going to risk the doctor's wrath. The little interlude from earlier has made it painfully clear that out of all of them, the one holding the room's reins was she.
He's going to find out how and why, but that's a riddle for a later time. Right now, he lets himself frown as he balances the teacup once more against his own lap. ]
And where is that, Liem?
[ He can't help sounding sullen about it, though, even as he turns his attention to the business of eating. If it helps convince Liem that he's recuperating, so be it: he will eat and drink and nap himself to oblivion. ]
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He has not quite understood his husband’s unhappy mood, mistaking his displeasure as simply being the result of Liem’s stubbornness in refusing to drink his blood. But, he thinks, it will only cause uncertainty if he disobeys the doctor’s advice and Cardan doesn’t get better. They won’t know if it is hasty sipping causing problems, or some other unknown issue. At least this way, if Cardan’s doubt is well founded, they will discover the discrepancy more easily.]
The forest, of course.
[He says this with the enthusiasm of a man declaring his intention to eat nothing but rice crackers for the next two weeks.]
Usually I would only partake for ritual reasons, but the wolves are never averse to a hunt.
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You are planning to sup on wildlife?
[ That has... actually not occurred to him at all. Would an animal's blood even nourish Liem? Besides which, he has trouble picturing his eternally put-together, fussy spouse-- no, actually, that's not true. He can picture him too well, all glowing eyes and face smeared with crimson above the steaming wound on some freshly felled creature's throat.
It's just that sometimes it's easy to forget that he's wed an apex predator.
Cardan considers this as he chews, moodily, on his sandwich. ]
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It would hardly be the first time.
[He’s supped on enough wild game during full moons, on ritual hunts to celebrate holy nights. On those occasions the hunt itself is more important than drinking any significant amount of blood, so his kills do tend to be smaller and less messy—but when coming back from a hunt, there's no disguising the red staining his mouth and the traces of the forest still clinging to his clothes.]
The flavour is about as flat as you might imagine, but it suffices, particularly if the kill is large.
[Deer’s or boar’s blood may not compare to Cardan’s, or even to a human’s, but after a couple litres, the craving for blood is definitely gone—though perhaps because at that point he just can’t stomach the thought of drinking any more.]
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So he doesn't offer Liem anything -- except for the arm that sneaks out to wrap around his waist and pull him insistently closer to Cardan's side. If he's going to sit close to Cardan, he may as well be touching more than just his hair. Besides, Liem's scent remains ever comforting.
And he is strangely eager to leave the fight behind, to reassure himself of Liem's affection now that he seems to have regained it. ]
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It makes focusing even on reading difficult, but he makes a decent effort of it, letting his husband eat while Liem absentmindedly strokes his hair and sticks to him like a lonely snowflake. It is only once Cardan finishes with his lunch that Liem peels himself free, draping a heavy blanket over his spouse and stealing a brief kiss before resigning himself to tackling the rest of the work on his desk.]