Iago is upright, dressed well, and no longer absently rubbing at his sore shoulder as he waits on deck. There is still a desire to impress him, to look good for him, especially after his pitiful moments during the Death Toll, so he's put on a bright red shirt and a black jacket while he waits. He leans against the railing, eating one of Mikodez's cookies.
Jedao doesn't like to presume it's a date, but historical evidence suggests that Iago is as ready to go for it any time as Jedao and Norton, so he makes an effort to look nice: tight cream-colored jeans that wouldn't be terrible to walk in but still show off the shape of his ass, a silky orange dress shirt with a fishscale gold shimmer with three buttons unbuttoned, a little bit of matching gold eyeshadow, and amber drop earrings in place of his usual less-obtrusive studs.
His eyes catch on the cookie and he grins ruefully, tipping his chin in a way that makes the earrings swing.
Jedao laughs softly, tilting his cheek into Iago's palm, reflexively affectionate.
"His sweet tooth is absolutely incorrigible. He used to push candy on me every time I was in his office. I'm glad you appreciated it more than I did, I suppose."
Sometimes there is merit in those words, at least for Iago. They're said so easily, so quickly, but he throws more meaning behind it. So when the affirmation comes back, he's pleased, blushing a bit.
"I thought I'd show you Venice, my home, if you would care to see it."
He waits for Jedao to open the door for him, but he wastes no time in programming the Enclosure to something very familiar to him.
He opens the door to Venice from his time, though it always strikes him how quiet it is. "Here she is," he says proudly, walking through to the sprawling city, crowded as she is with buildings and boats against the long, winding river. The harbor is in the distance and great white sails greet each other, bobbing in silent waves.
"There is the piazza," he remarks, pointing towards the city square that houses St. Mark’s Basilica. "It was one of my favorite places to go."
Jedao gasps as he steps into the city, wide-eyed with wonder and delight. He can feel the network of canals, the warrens of rivers and quays, the old stones and the island-speckled deep lagoon beyond. Even drowned New York wasn't anything like this. He's caught between staring and closing his eyes entirely, sinking into his mothsense, tracing the waterways like veins, or nerves, the way a composer might close his eyes when listening to music.
The stunning blue of sea and sky together, flashing and winking between the buildings, wins the contest in favor of sight as Jedao trails after Iago, not entirely managing not to gape.
Iago loves his city, despite what he might otherwise say, and he is genuinely touched that Jedao has taken such a deep interest. He takes him through the city slowly, explaining his favorite places, recalling a few stories here and there.
"This man here sold cheese. The finest cheese in all of Venice. He never seemed to run out! I always kept coins with me for it when I would pass by," he says, noticing him watching the water.
"The ocean is beautiful when she's filled with ships," he adds.
"Time, tesoro. Time and love and the most brilliant minds."
He lets go of his hand and places it on the small of his back as they reach the harbor. "Get your fill of it here," he says softly. "I'll take you down the canals next."
"I can...feel it," Jedao admits, a more closely guarded secret than being able to move things around. "I can feel weight in space, I can feel the difference between the water and the stone. It's so intricate."
At first, he doesn't quite understand, but as Jedao explains, Iago feels the weight of this revelation. He stands closer. "It must be marvelous," he mutters. "To see how precious she is from another angle."
Iago takes him towards the canal and onto a small boat that he steps onto
easily, fearlessly, especially for someone who still doesn't know how to
swim.
He holds out a hand for Jedao. The fact that it's unecessary has no bearing
on his decision to do so.
It's very gentlemanly, Jedao thinks, dashing and romantic; he's obviously delighted by it, grinning as he takes Iago's hand and stepping lightly after him.
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His eyes catch on the cookie and he grins ruefully, tipping his chin in a way that makes the earrings swing.
"He's got you too, I see."
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He reaches out and traces Jedao's jaw with his fingers, fascinated with the swing of the earrings.
"He is my warden officially now," he points out. "I can enjoy the sweets in exchange."
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"His sweet tooth is absolutely incorrigible. He used to push candy on me every time I was in his office. I'm glad you appreciated it more than I did, I suppose."
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He finishes the last bite and takes Jedao's hand instead. "Thank you for joining me."
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"It's my pleasure," he says, wry with awareness that it's a stock polite phrase, despite being the plain truth.
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"I thought I'd show you Venice, my home, if you would care to see it."
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He opens the door to Venice from his time, though it always strikes him how quiet it is. "Here she is," he says proudly, walking through to the sprawling city, crowded as she is with buildings and boats against the long, winding river. The harbor is in the distance and great white sails greet each other, bobbing in silent waves.
"There is the piazza," he remarks, pointing towards the city square that houses St. Mark’s Basilica. "It was one of my favorite places to go."
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Jedao gasps as he steps into the city, wide-eyed with wonder and delight. He can feel the network of canals, the warrens of rivers and quays, the old stones and the island-speckled deep lagoon beyond. Even drowned New York wasn't anything like this. He's caught between staring and closing his eyes entirely, sinking into his mothsense, tracing the waterways like veins, or nerves, the way a composer might close his eyes when listening to music.
The stunning blue of sea and sky together, flashing and winking between the buildings, wins the contest in favor of sight as Jedao trails after Iago, not entirely managing not to gape.
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"This man here sold cheese. The finest cheese in all of Venice. He never seemed to run out! I always kept coins with me for it when I would pass by," he says, noticing him watching the water.
"The ocean is beautiful when she's filled with ships," he adds.
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"They're so woven together. It's like...a mer-city."
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He does know that, and he guides him down a few streets that will lead to the harbor.
"Mercity," he says, pushing the words together with a smile. "I like that."
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He lets go of his hand and places it on the small of his back as they reach the harbor. "Get your fill of it here," he says softly. "I'll take you down the canals next."
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"It's like...a great palace of lace."
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He leans his head against his shoulder.
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Iago takes him towards the canal and onto a small boat that he steps onto easily, fearlessly, especially for someone who still doesn't know how to swim.
He holds out a hand for Jedao. The fact that it's unecessary has no bearing on his decision to do so.
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