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[withintenfeet]

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[conning]

Someone knocks shave-and-a-haircut on Zerxus's cabin door before pausing to wonder if that's even a reference that he'd get.

Either way, it's a knock.

[withintenfeet]

Weirdly enough, he does, and at this point he's stopped trying to make sense of that sort of thing. He just goes "well that's definitely one of the bards", which is why he looks wryly amused when he opens the door. Yep, sure was.

"Neal? Is everything all right?"

[conning]

Up close, it's easier to see the little changes in Neal's appearance--the delicate arrival of crows feet, the deepening blush of white at his temples. There's also an ease to him in person that's a sizable shift from the tense energy he carried the last time they saw each other face-to-face. Between that and the turtleneck sweater and jeans he's opted for over a three-piece suit, he's clearly let a few anxieties go.

"Yeah, I just figured we were overdue for a deliberate in-person visit."

[withintenfeet]

It's good to see, honestly - it's what he wanted, when Neal told him he was leaving, and he definitely hadn't expected confirmation this soon. There's an ease to him, too, as he nods and steps back, relief he doesn't feel the need to voice out loud.

Tempus immediately barges in between them to inspect Neal personally.

"Tempus - "

[conning]

Neal lights up, eagerly reaching out to touch the creature before pausing with a glance at Zerxus to make sure it's okay. He doesn't know how this works, maybe it's like daemons or something BADUMPTISH.

[withintenfeet]

Look, we all know Tempus has entirely too much sense to literally be part of Zerxus

Zerxus's nod is made slightly redundant by Tempus just nudging his beak into Neal's hand.

"He can understand you. And he - well, usually we have the same taste in people - " Translation, Tempus has already decided he likes you.

[conning]

Neal runs his hands gently along that massive, razor beak, boyish delight erasing any pretense of maturity the gray at his temples might of let him borrow.

It takes a good minute for him to make himself focus and gesture toward the cabin's interior. "May I?"

[withintenfeet]

Zerxus isn't quite smiling, as he watches, but his gaze is tender and fond, if a bit wistful.

"Of course." They step back in tandem, revealing a bedroom lit both by the starlight streaming in through the balcony and the fire crackling in the fireplace. There's a chair drawn up to it, with both a book and a mug balanced on the cushion.

"...Do you like hot chocolate? That's a thing on Earth too, right?"

[conning]

"It is." Certain pleasures are apparently pleasures regardless of what world you're from. He scratches the back of his head a little awkwardly. "I'm not much of a sweets guy, to be honest. Water or tea would be welcome. Coffee, if that's a thing. Or nothing--I'm good with that too."

He stops, mentally rewinds, tries that again. "Whatever you've got on hand is fine, thank you."

He steps inside, eyebrows raised as he looks around the space. He reaches out a hand to pet Tempus absently when he's in reach. "Your cabin is beautiful."

[withintenfeet]

The longer Neal goes, the more Zerxus actually relaxes. "Coffee is very doable."

Then his expression turns rueful. "I'm only responsible for the balcony." He nods towards Tempus, who is very much enjoying the attention. "Welcome to the Tower of the First Knight."

There's a marked lack of pride or accomplishment in his voice.

"I'll just be a second - " But, if nothing else, it is fully stocked.

[conning]

The way Zerxus says it certainly paints a picture of his relationship with the station in one broad, tidy stroke.

Neal wanders to the balcony to look at the view, even though there's a part of him itching to see what Zerxus's kitchen is like because kitchens are great--and you can also tell rather a lot about someone from their kitchen. But he's not here to snoop, and the view is better than the kitchen to keep him from trying to puzzle Zerxus out from his spice collection or lack thereof.

"I saw your reply to Arthur's announcement."

[withintenfeet]

Arcane cookware means he really isn't gone long before he strides back in with a steaming mug of coffee, though he freezes in his tracks at that.

"That - um. The Barge always has more surprises." Perfectly neutral surprises that definitely did not threaten to give him a panic attack.

[conning]

Neal closes the distance instead, gently taking the mug.

"Thank you." He can't help stealing a sip, immediately distracted by how good it is and how different it tastes. Like coffee, yes, of course, but the flavor notes are both familiar and different enough that he can tell it's not from any place he's ever been. The distraction maybe gives Zerxus a moment to gather himself.

[withintenfeet]

Some of the renewed tension does bleed away, as he watches, expression turning wistfully fond and a little bit smug.

"Not made in Avalir, for the record." Yes, he's finally decided to claim Avalir as his own after failing spectacularly.

That doesn't mean he isn't still a bit of a petty bitch.

[conning]

Neal grins, recognizing what's either an old grudge or a point of pride in the way Zerxus says that. He tilts his head toward the fire. "Wanna sit? I feel like this might be a conversation."

[withintenfeet]

Zerxus feels himself grinning back, just a little, and it startles him - even though he's smiled more on the Barge than he had in...years, probably. He's not sure how he feels about the prospect of it becoming easy again.

"Let me grab that other chair - " With one hand, he slides a fairly hefty armchair over to the fireplace, before settling back into his own. His mug is still warm, of course, and he raises it in wry invitation.

[conning]

Neal matches the toast, and settles into the chair with his eyes on the fire. "You want to talk about why the possibility of demotion scared you that badly?"

A pause, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle in quiet amusement. "Let me rephrase. I'm here to talk about that, if you're willing to."

[withintenfeet]

He's braced himself for it, so the question doesn't land harshly. But then Neal softens it anyway, and that's what puts a lump in his throat.

Entirely but coincidence he's going to sip some of his cocoa first.

"I am not - going back to a good situation." Whether he disappears or he chooses to leave; whether he remembers the Barge or he doesn't. "I don't know how the Admiral - or the Barge itself, or however it works - will judge all of that. And then the problem is twofold, because it would take Kahl's warden away and it would stop me from doing what I need to do at home."

He pauses, then, and amends, "What I want to do."

[conning]

Neal cups his hands around his mug, thoughts straying to nights on the beach with Raylan in front of a bonfire. The bare edge of a chill in the air, the uneven heat of the fire making the skin on his face feel tight.

"That's the problem. But why does the problem scare you?"

[withintenfeet]

"...Because I can't fix it."

He thought that was self-evident.

[conning]

"What makes you think that?"

Sorry Zerxus please articulate your specific concerns.

[withintenfeet]

Zerxus looks away, after a moment, staring into the fire and grappling for an explanation that's true without -

No. No, if he's agreeing to talk about this he ought to do it properly. "There is...a lot I haven't told you about what happened to Exandria. What happened to me."

With some effort, he tears his gaze away from the flames and meets Neal's gaze again.

"I'm dead, Neal. I'm dead, and I know exactly where my soul is going, and I'm not here to change it."

[conning]

Neal studies his face without flinching.

"So--genuine question. Is the thing that scares you not being able to fix the things you came here to fix, or the idea that being an inmate means you get a second chance at life whether you want it or not?"

[withintenfeet]

Neal will see his expression shift from grim resolve to desperate yearning, just for a moment. He settles easily back into fierce conviction, but there's a ragged quality to his voice that betrays the level of emotion.

"I came here to help people. That is my second chance."

[conning]

"No it's not," he says, tone shifting from neutrally inquisitive to gentle. "With that approach, it's theirs and only theirs. This is limbo, Zerxus. Purgatory, the place of proving, whatever you want to call it. You're here to help people, yes, but it's not a second chance for you if you don't take it when it's offered. Then it just becomes a deferral of whatever debt it is you think you owe."