[pfsb]

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian's notes have long been a haphazard disaster, and it has reached a point where he knows he's circling a revelation, missing only one or two key parts, and said parts are probably lying half-forgotten in a notebook he thought he'd reserved for another project entirely. In theory, he is trying to dig through everything to organize it a little better.

In theory.

In practice, however, Wei Wuxian is staring out the window with his chin in his hand, and he hasn't touched the papers scattered across his table for about two hours. He's too busy smiling an absolutely foolish smile at nothing in particular.

It has been a very good couple of days.

Comments

[acrookedpath]

"Perhaps."

(Honestly, it's a minor miracle Wei Wuxian wasn't humming under his breath when Harrow approached.)

He eyes Harrow, his smile unabated. "And I do not seem to be the only one. How are you?"

[we_bring_hell]

Her expression is always hard to read, but it's clear to anyone that her face is painted with exceptional care, in an ornate pattern with considerable, immodest flourishes. She has edged the perimeter of the painted skull with midnight purples and deep blood reds, an even greater departure from propriety.

"I am quite well," she agrees, taking a seat. "Gideon and I are synchronized and we have had a conversation that has been needed for a long time."

And she's still alive! What?!

[acrookedpath]

Somehow, he brightens even more when he hears this.

"You told her everything?" he asks, leaning forward eagerly. "And it went well? Harrow, that's wonderful!"

[we_bring_hell]

"It went better than I had any right to expect," she says solemnly, but behind the too-old-for-her solemnity and the paint there's joy burning like a torch.

"We are sworn. One flesh; one end."

[acrookedpath]

"What?"

His voice skews up a few notes in absolute delight. Wei Wuxian has spent enough time around Harrow to know how awkward she is with physical contact; that is the only reason he doesn't seize her hands, as he would with any other dear friend, in his excitement.

"We need to celebrate," he declares, slapping a palm atop his scattered notes. "What about -- ah, no, you do not drink, I forgot -- but food! You said we would take a meal together. We should!"

[we_bring_hell]

"I am reminded that even a necromancer requires protein to function," she says, with a faint smile. "By all means."

"Even if I had not met Lan Wangji already, I would recognize that your business is also well-concluded."

[acrookedpath]

"Ah." He laughs, only a little sheepish, as a faint sheen of red touches his cheeks. "Yes. I suppose I am being very transparent, aren't I? We have spoken. He had recognized his own affections long before I recognized mine, but did not want to tell me, and then when I confessed I loved him..."

There is no describing his smile as anything other than doofy.

"It is well-concluded. As you said."

[we_bring_hell]

"Both a true companion and a lover, then. You are doubly blessed, Wei Wuxian. As is he."

"What a lovely and extraordinary surprise that none could have foreseen."

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian snorts, too happy to be anything other than amused.

"Reverend Daughter, I fear you may be mocking me," he says, with as much mock gravitas as he can muster when he is struggling not to laugh. "But it is deserved. I will bear it as I must."

He beckons to one of the waitrats; it immediately scurries over to take their order.

[we_bring_hell]

"I promised to eat a meal of your choosing," Harrow reminds him. "But have a care with your spices; I have someone to avenge me, now."

[acrookedpath]

"No chili oil," he promises with another laugh. "I do not wish to be on the wrong end of Gideon's sword. She's as skilled as you claimed."

No chili oil for Harrow, anyway. He will get his customary pot and upend the whole thing on his meal, as is only just and proper.

"Er kuai with chicken and -- " He runs through his mental catalogue of foods Lan Zhan would be able to tolerate. "Steamed stuffed tofu? And tea. And wine! Thank you."

The rat squeaks and scurries away.

[we_bring_hell]

"What is tofu?" she asks. "Chickens are known to me--at least in legend--but I don't think I have heard of tofu."

[acrookedpath]

"Ah -- it is a bean curd," he explains, not nearly as well as he thinks he has. "Soft, little flavor on its own, but it takes on the flavors around it very well. So if the stuffed tofu is too much, we can ask for plain tofu as well."

The idea of which makes Wei Wuxian's own tastebuds weep -- but if nothing else, he supposes, the more flavorless food other people eat, the more spicy food is left for him!

[we_bring_hell]

"Ahh--my understanding is that we tried beans on the Ninth, but they could not be bred to withstand the cold. How intriguing."

[acrookedpath]

"Soybeans do not do well even in the early spring," he agrees, "from what I understand. But I am not a farmer."

Soon enough, the waitrat scurries back with two dishes, one significantly paler than the other. They're accompanied by a large bowl of rice, a pot of tea with two small cups, and a white ceramic wine bottle.

And chili oil, because by now, both Madam Bar and the waitrats know Wei Wuxian orders that with everything.

[we_bring_hell]

"To be the Reverend Daughter is to be a little bit of everything; farmer, diplomat, counselor, undertaker, doctor, pastor, judge and legislator."

She regards the eating sticks cautiously, and resolves to wait and imitate Wei Wuxian.

[acrookedpath]

Wei Wuxian, for his part, takes a moment to portion out the rice and pour tea for both of them. "To satisfactory conclusions," he says with a fresh grin, raising his cup to her.

Only after that's done does he smother his food in the spicy oil and dig in.

[we_bring_hell]

"To forgiveness," she says. The tofu is pleasantly bland, although she's not sure about the texture.

"Quite good," she says. She is less pleased with the chicken dish, but she's trying.

[acrookedpath]

He can appreciate the effort! Considering the chicken is more to his own taste, albeit far less spicy, he is marveling she tolerated it even briefly.

"There are desserts we could try as well," he offers, taking a sip of tea. "They are sweet, but not nearly as sweet or rich as milkshakes."

[we_bring_hell]

"I would be willing," she says. "We had a bargain."

Let it never be said that the Ninth House fails to pay its debts.

"Besides... perhaps I should... expand my tastes."

[acrookedpath]

"Perhaps we should get two desserts, then," he says thoughtfully. "Let me see..."

He drums his fingers on the table, thinking, then brightens and waves down another waitrat. "Jian dui and tanghulu! I think you may like those -- the tanghulu has much more sugar, but only on the outside."

[we_bring_hell]

"All right," she says glumly.

"How do you cope with the intensity of your chili oil?" she asks. "I can manage at most one spoonful of shaken milk, but you and Gideon gulp them down."

[acrookedpath]

"I have always enjoyed spicy food," he says with a shrug. "Not this spicy, perhaps, when I was very young, but it has never bothered me the way it may bother others. And I lived somewhere that did not shy away from flavor -- if I grew up in Gusu Lan, I doubt my tongue would survive this or a milkshake."

He gestures to the food before him.

[we_bring_hell]

That doesn't help; Gideon grew up on the same dusty, flavorless, loveless planet.

"Mm."

[acrookedpath]

Sadly, Wei Wuxian's skill in translating Lan Zhan's monosyllablic responses does not carry over to Harrow's.

"But expanding your tastes does not have to mean you eat an entire jar of chili oil right away, or drink the biggest milkshake you can find with -- " He ladders a hand upward. "Whipped cream this high and twenty cherries on top. It can be a spoonful. It can be a little extra spice, not even the strongest chilis. And when you grow used to that, then you add a little more. And then more."