"I had noticed that," he comments, his mouth ticking up slightly at the corner. Not quite a smile. It's hard not to notice Alfred doing things for people. Mending something of Herbert's, or helping with the castle upkeep.
"I... often struggle to find the right words to express what I'm thinking. How I'm feeling. So I show how I care by showering those I care about with gifts. Spoiling them, I suppose.
Though it was trickier to come up with something to give you. Anything I could think of to buy seemed... needless. Thus the roses."
Finally, the Count's long locks are softening up - his work is paying off in the form of smooth dark hair running against Alfred's long fingers, the dust and cobwebs swept neatly out by the brush, by the careful attentions of gentle hands.
He smiles, fondly, nodding a little.
"...I love the roses," he affirms, voice soft. "I'm - well, I'm used to not having much. Traveling with the Professor, I had...well, I had two sets of clothing and little else. I never want you to think I'm ungrateful for...well, for anything here. You have given me a home. That's - that's more than I could have ever asked for."
A beat, and then, deciding to meet Georg in the middle -
"I will never turn down a book recommendation, though."
"Ah, you see? Therein lies my dilemma with you. You've gotten by with little, and so you've convinced yourself you're contented getting by with little.
But forget, for now, what you need. Think about something you want. It could be anything at all, anything in the world. The most extravagant of desires you can imagine. Things you dared only dream of.
Alfred is quiet for a long moment, thinking about this. It's true, he just... doesn't feel like he needs much. He's not a covetous person. But it's clear that Georg really wants this, really wants to do Something for him.
A dream. Hmm. His brows knit, and his hands still for a moment.
"Well," he finally starts, softly, hesitantly.
"There - is...one thing. I don't know that it's extravagant, exactly, but it's... it's something I've always wanted...."
The excitement is encouraging, but - Alfred is still bashful as he continues.
"Well... it's - I've always wanted a...a workroom. A whole space to...to sew, not in a corner of my bedroom. Space for fabrics, a-and mannequins, and...just...."
He sighs, a little. "I've barely been given any space, in my life, for the things I like to do. So I think if I would dream of anything...that would be it."
It seems like such a simple request. And yet, if that is what Alfred wants, Georg will hardly deny him it.
"Choose a room to your liking, that you feel will suit your purposes, and we'll move your sewing things into it. Whatever you need to make the room yours can be moved in. A table and some chairs, at the very least. If we haven't any mannequins already, we'll find some for you.
"All for you." He turns his head to press a kiss to Alfred's cheek. "I'll start setting things up tomorrow night. It may take a little, to gather everything necessary -- and no peeking, you understand?" He chucks Alfred's chin affectionately.
"I don't want you to see it until it's completely finished. I want it to be a surprise for you."
The kiss and touch nets Georg a boyish giggle - his expression is pure childlike excitement. The boy, for all his studious nature, wears his emotions so very on his sleeve, happy or sad.
Right now - he feels happy. Loved.
"I promise, I do - oh, thank you, Georg. You have no idea what it means to me."
Pressing a kiss of his own to the other man's forehead, he pulls back behind, reasserting his grip on the brush so he can prepare to braid.
"I know it must - it must sound like a silly thing to ask for, out of anything. But...well, even back in Königsberg, I didn't even have a desk in the Professor's office. I had a chair in the corner. And it was broken."
Georg can't quite help the sneer that crosses his face at the mention of Alfred's set-up in Königsberg. He clears his throat and straightens his posture to let Alfred brush his hair.
"I'm glad, at least, that you have a desk in your room here. And soon you'll have a space for your hobbies."
Not for the first time, he thinks of hunting down and eating Professor Abronsious.
Oop - there's that needle of anger that tends to come up when he mentions the Professor to either Herbert or Georg. He tries to avoid it, but also... maybe a little bit, he secretly likes the anger on his behalf.
Oblivious to what Georg is considering, he parts the hair for braiding, gently and carefully.
"...Do you have any hobbies other than gardening, Georg?" Gentle, curious. There's still so much he doesn't know.
"Very few, surprisingly. I read through my library. Sometimes by theme, sometimes by author. Sometimes at random. I do add to it, from time to time.
And I have taught myself the art of horology. As I'm sure you've been able to tell, we have many, many clocks in the castle. Someone must take care of them all."
He starts in on the braid, movements even, calm, gentle. Occasionally he pauses to collect more oil to help the process along.
"You really take care of the clocks? That's - that's amazing! Clockwork is fascinating, but it's completely beyond me." There is awe in his voice - there are so many KINDS of clocks, here, too.
"I do, yes. We started collecting more of them after I was turned. When I always needed to know the time, to know when sunrise was.
Because I was the one with the need for the clocks, I took it upon myself to learn how to keep up with them. I have dozens of manuals for all sorts of clocks, just in case. I find the process quite soothing, really."
OH, THAT'S WHY THERE ARE SO MANY CLOCKS. Alfred had gotten used to them by now, but had never asked, chalking it up to one of Georg's eccentricities. Knowing the reason, it all makes perfect sense.
So much of what Georg is is like a mystery he's unraveling, bit by bit. Enticing. Fascinating.
"That's remarkable - you must have such a delicate touch."
"It took a few decades and some broken clocks before I was able to properly care for them. But I do like to think I have a delicate touch with them, now."
He glances down with a slight smirk. "Perhaps you can tell me how delicate my touch is."
It takes Alfred's everything not to fumble the braid at that little comment. Grateful that he's standing behind Georg, he flushes quite red, voice turning just a little bashful.
"Ah, w-well, it's-" His voice cracks, and mentally, he curses himself a little. He clears his throat.
"It can be...very delicate, when you want it to be."
"I only tease, my marvelous boy, because I think you turn the most fetching shade of red when you're flustered. It's quite flattering."
What he won't say, is that he and Herbert have spoken extensively on the subject of Alfred's blush. How it trails down his chest in the most alluring way and makes them both want to follow it with fingers and mouths.
No, he'll concentrate instead on the gentle way Alfred's fingers work through his hair.
Yes, he's that shade of red now, he expects. And he's feeling a bit hot under the collar, as it were. Alfred tries to focus on the braid, keeping the twists smooth and sleek before tying it off at the end.
"...There! All done." He smiles, leaning a little over Georg's shoulder. "How does it feel?"
Georg reaches up to touch his hair. It feels... nice, for once. Clean. Cared for. Not merely quickly and carelessly brushed through as he does most evenings but well maintained.
"I feel... handsome." He sounds surprised, but pleasantly so.
At this, Alfred beams - hearing Georg say something nice about himself? Worth every bit of effort.
"You look handsome, Georg. I've never seen your hair back before, and you have such graceful features-"
Absently, he runs a long finger over the contour of his ear, moving down his jaw a bit before he seems to Realize and he gently pulls back with a little laugh. "Ah - sorry. Got a little carried away. But - but you look lovely. And I know Sarah will think so, too."
Georg laughs softly, slightly self conscious, and takes Alfred's hand to kiss the palm. "You can touch, if you'd like. I don't mind. I like it. The way you appreciate me."
Sarah's touches are always greedy, wanting, needing. Alfred touches simply to touch. It's refreshing.
"Does having my hair back show off my graceful features, then?"
Moving around the bench, he straddles it, turning so that he can beckon for Georg to face him. Gently, he reaches out, gently starting again to trace the lines of the other man's face, his jaw, his cheekbones, even the line of his neck over his collar.
He doesn't touch the edge of the scars, peeking out on pale skin. He's seen them, when Georg has had his shirt open or off, but...something about them, about focusing on them makes Alfred uneasy. Disjointed little images, sounds. A strange clicking. A dark laugh. The scent of earth.
Georg will tell him, someday, he's sure, when he is ready.
For now, Alfred just smiles, voice thoughtful. "...It does. You have such nice bone structure, and - your skin is pale, yes, but...but smooth, and soft. I think you're beautiful."
Georg turns to straddle the bench as well, his thighs bracketing Alfred's so he can sit closely. To let Alfred touch him as he pleases. He holds very still as the boy does so, stiffening ever so slightly when Alfred's fingers near his collar and relaxing when they move away again.
"I suppose I never truly let myself think about how I look very often. Or how I feel, to that point. I don't... care for myself. Not like Herbert does. Perhaps I ought to." Though his tone is still tentative. Unsure of whether or not he's worth such things. Deserving of them.
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"I... often struggle to find the right words to express what I'm thinking. How I'm feeling. So I show how I care by showering those I care about with gifts. Spoiling them, I suppose.
Though it was trickier to come up with something to give you. Anything I could think of to buy seemed... needless. Thus the roses."
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He smiles, fondly, nodding a little.
"...I love the roses," he affirms, voice soft. "I'm - well, I'm used to not having much. Traveling with the Professor, I had...well, I had two sets of clothing and little else. I never want you to think I'm ungrateful for...well, for anything here. You have given me a home. That's - that's more than I could have ever asked for."
A beat, and then, deciding to meet Georg in the middle -
"I will never turn down a book recommendation, though."
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But forget, for now, what you need. Think about something you want. It could be anything at all, anything in the world. The most extravagant of desires you can imagine. Things you dared only dream of.
That is what I want to be able to give you."
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A dream. Hmm. His brows knit, and his hands still for a moment.
"Well," he finally starts, softly, hesitantly.
"There - is...one thing. I don't know that it's extravagant, exactly, but it's... it's something I've always wanted...."
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"Well... it's - I've always wanted a...a workroom. A whole space to...to sew, not in a corner of my bedroom. Space for fabrics, a-and mannequins, and...just...."
He sighs, a little. "I've barely been given any space, in my life, for the things I like to do. So I think if I would dream of anything...that would be it."
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"Choose a room to your liking, that you feel will suit your purposes, and we'll move your sewing things into it. Whatever you need to make the room yours can be moved in. A table and some chairs, at the very least. If we haven't any mannequins already, we'll find some for you.
It will be a room just for you."
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He doesn't ask for much...but he's also easy to please. Excitement rattles his tone, and he leans around the older vampire's shoulder, grin bright.
"Oh Georg - really? Really? Just for me?"
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"I don't want you to see it until it's completely finished. I want it to be a surprise for you."
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Right now - he feels happy. Loved.
"I promise, I do - oh, thank you, Georg. You have no idea what it means to me."
Pressing a kiss of his own to the other man's forehead, he pulls back behind, reasserting his grip on the brush so he can prepare to braid.
"I know it must - it must sound like a silly thing to ask for, out of anything. But...well, even back in Königsberg, I didn't even have a desk in the Professor's office. I had a chair in the corner. And it was broken."
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"I'm glad, at least, that you have a desk in your room here. And soon you'll have a space for your hobbies."
Not for the first time, he thinks of hunting down and eating Professor Abronsious.
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Oblivious to what Georg is considering, he parts the hair for braiding, gently and carefully.
"...Do you have any hobbies other than gardening, Georg?" Gentle, curious. There's still so much he doesn't know.
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And I have taught myself the art of horology. As I'm sure you've been able to tell, we have many, many clocks in the castle. Someone must take care of them all."
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He starts in on the braid, movements even, calm, gentle. Occasionally he pauses to collect more oil to help the process along.
"You really take care of the clocks? That's - that's amazing! Clockwork is fascinating, but it's completely beyond me." There is awe in his voice - there are so many KINDS of clocks, here, too.
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Because I was the one with the need for the clocks, I took it upon myself to learn how to keep up with them. I have dozens of manuals for all sorts of clocks, just in case. I find the process quite soothing, really."
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So much of what Georg is is like a mystery he's unraveling, bit by bit. Enticing. Fascinating.
"That's remarkable - you must have such a delicate touch."
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He glances down with a slight smirk. "Perhaps you can tell me how delicate my touch is."
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"Ah, w-well, it's-" His voice cracks, and mentally, he curses himself a little. He clears his throat.
"It can be...very delicate, when you want it to be."
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What he won't say, is that he and Herbert have spoken extensively on the subject of Alfred's blush. How it trails down his chest in the most alluring way and makes them both want to follow it with fingers and mouths.
No, he'll concentrate instead on the gentle way Alfred's fingers work through his hair.
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Yes, he's that shade of red now, he expects. And he's feeling a bit hot under the collar, as it were. Alfred tries to focus on the braid, keeping the twists smooth and sleek before tying it off at the end.
"...There! All done." He smiles, leaning a little over Georg's shoulder. "How does it feel?"
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"I feel... handsome." He sounds surprised, but pleasantly so.
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"You look handsome, Georg. I've never seen your hair back before, and you have such graceful features-"
Absently, he runs a long finger over the contour of his ear, moving down his jaw a bit before he seems to Realize and he gently pulls back with a little laugh. "Ah - sorry. Got a little carried away. But - but you look lovely. And I know Sarah will think so, too."
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Sarah's touches are always greedy, wanting, needing. Alfred touches simply to touch. It's refreshing.
"Does having my hair back show off my graceful features, then?"
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Moving around the bench, he straddles it, turning so that he can beckon for Georg to face him. Gently, he reaches out, gently starting again to trace the lines of the other man's face, his jaw, his cheekbones, even the line of his neck over his collar.
He doesn't touch the edge of the scars, peeking out on pale skin. He's seen them, when Georg has had his shirt open or off, but...something about them, about focusing on them makes Alfred uneasy. Disjointed little images, sounds. A strange clicking. A dark laugh. The scent of earth.
Georg will tell him, someday, he's sure, when he is ready.
For now, Alfred just smiles, voice thoughtful. "...It does. You have such nice bone structure, and - your skin is pale, yes, but...but smooth, and soft. I think you're beautiful."
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"I suppose I never truly let myself think about how I look very often. Or how I feel, to that point. I don't... care for myself. Not like Herbert does. Perhaps I ought to." Though his tone is still tentative. Unsure of whether or not he's worth such things. Deserving of them.
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