“There he goes again.” Michelangelo's voice was soft, but it carried - over the threshold and through the doorway from the balcony - clear to the bed where Gustav could hear. He wondered how much power she was putting into the words, to make a whisper reach that far. “Aaaaaaand, ass over tea-kettle, right into the rosebush.”
“Are you coming to bed, or going after him?” Gustav huffed, mostly to himself, as if he ever had a thought that she wasn't also in on.
She sighed, or maybe that was just the wind. Probably both.
Then she turned away and re-entered their room properly, closing the balcony door behind her and pulling thick velvet curtains over the glass.
“I don't know,” she admitted, flouncing down to sit beside Gustav. His hand found hers and he rubbed a callused thumb across her soft knuckles. She put her free hand in her hair and started to untie one of her bows. “I guess bed.”
Gustav propped himself up on one elbow, reaching across her to gently remove the other bow, then taking them both and setting them carefully on the bedside table as she ran both hands through her curls, loosening the carefully sculpted shapes.
“I wish he'd accept my offer one of these nights.” She hummed to herself, sweeping up to address their enchanted glass. It almost acted as a fully functional mirror, even for the vampiric sort, but the sepia-toned 'reflection' meant she mostly had to rely on Gustav for how color coordinated she was. “I hate to think of him sleeping alone in that creepy old tower. We have room here to spare.”
“I know how you feel.” Gustav allowed. She turned around, pearls in hand, and found him already half-naked and spreadeagled on the bed. Still, she knew she was right, because even stretched near to the four corners, there was plenty of room for her and another person besides. “But consider, do you think he ever really sleeps up there?”
Michelangelo considered the implication of Gustav's words, turned them over in her head and let them settle on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed the inclination to repeat them back. “I suppose he might not have to.”
“That's so.” Gustav grinned and crooked a finger at her, but she wasn't finished hanging her dress, and she turned away pointedly to show him so. He huffed again, and this time she definitely heard it and had to laugh.
“But we don't know for sure, and anyway, even if he doesn't sleep, I'd still he rather be up here with us than wandering around the grounds looking for Allen.”
That put a damper on the mood for a moment and she shot a glance at Gustav over her bare shoulder. He shrugged one shoulder and looked away.
“Anyway. We can't do anything about it tonight.” Gustav said after a moment, dispelling the tense atmosphere. “He's probably half-way to the river by now. So, are you coming to bed?”
“Of course, il mio amore.”
“Aahhh, that's cheating when you use that stupid language, meine Liebe.” He spread his arms out again and beckoned with both hands this time.
She tightened the sash of her favorite silken robe and crossed the room to lie down beside Gustav. He put one arm around her shoulders, and she scooted closer to rest her head on his hollow chest, her hand spread across his stomach. With his free hand, he gestured at the candle on the table and the flame sputtered out.
“Gustav?” She whispered after a moment in the dark. “Do you think we'll ever get through to him?”
He might have gone to sleep, for how still and silent he was, but eventually he hummed. “If anyone could do it, meine Liebe, it would be you.”