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[After the shock of unfortunate news that led him to nearly fall to pieces in Liem's bathroom (not his proudest moment), Constantin elects to sleep very much before tackling the issue any further. So his weekend has gone from abysmal to merely could-be-better, once he's gotten some sleep and isn't entirely wound up about it. But only just— maybe, five percent? Five percent less terrible.

He feels raw in an unpleasant way, like all he can do is go through the motions of his ordinary routine or he will completely unravel, or worse, have to talk about it again. It's much easier to avoid all other people instead, excepting of course the one other person who had already known about his unfortunate bout of the plague at home. There are benefits to dating a doctor, who knew— he will take a simple "it's going to be fine" at this point, medical evidence helpful but optional.

Or: it's been a long couple days, and he would like to see his boyfriend and complain about how ridiculously terrible his entire life is, and he thinks he deserves that. But he can't deliver plague news over the phone, so instead he sends an ostensibly innocent text:]

Danya my darling, where are you? I want to see your face. I have some news.

[...Which may be deceptively casual, actually, as he looks at it on the phone screen. He sends another text a moment later that's definitely more helpful:]

It is news that necessitates hard liquor.

[Daniil is in his own little studio, watching a severed foot attempting to walk on top of his desk. Since there's no leg attached to it, all the poor thing can do is move its graceful toes. Still, he takes careful, precise notes. That's not quite life. Not yet. But he thinks he is getting near whatever is missing, and once he does...

Connie's first message is received with a soft smile, its successor with a frown. Covering the dainty foot with a clean cloth, he goes about his room gathering his best vodka, and some chemical aid for good measure. ]

On my way, dear.

[He's at Connie's pretty house's doorstep in less than fifteen minutes, having crossed the Farmer's Market as fast as he would have crossed good old Gorkhon. A disheveled, breathless little doctor with a heavy carpet bag in his hand. He rings the bell, but is too agitated to wait.]

Connie? Constantin? Here I am. I brought vodka. And my face.

Edited 2021-08-08 07:30 (UTC)

[Credit where credit is due: in a better mood, Constantin would delight in Daniil dropping everything to come and see him at a moment's notice. He still does now, but softer, more muted; it's a gentler appreciation for the man, tempered by just how exhausted Constantin has been while thinking about his impending demise. Either way: the simple text is enough to settle his thoughts for the time being, although when the doorbell rings he is up and across the house in moments, anyway.]

Danya— [Oh, just look at him, he really sped all the way here— Constantin pulls him into the house without further preamble, fussing briefly at his hair before tugging him into an embrace. Give him a moment to linger in the simple comfort of having Daniil close, after spending the morning irrationally certain he might blink and disappear from this world in a moment of cruel irony and never see Daniil or his coat again.

Okay. He leans back without actually letting go; it's that kind of day.]

I need a drink! [Boldly declared, because it's going to suck to have to get into this again, but if anyone should know about this new problem (same as the old problem), it's Danya and his ridiculous doctor bag. But in the living room and not the threshold, that would be better.] Drinks first, and then I will be prepared to tell you my news.

[So please join him, and double please refrain from pointing out how overtly frazzled he is, he knows.]

[Daniil has never had a proper poker face. Not when it comes to people who really matter. So his surprise at Connie's state shows. Still, there are real advantages of being a doctor. Not pulling away from the embrace, he circles his boyfriend with his free arm and helps him towards the living room, bottle of vodka quickly out of the bag. Glasses. Even now, he knows Connie would appreciate the dignity of glasses, and so he searches for them with his eyes. Certainly a fancy home like this must have a proper cupboard somewhere.]

Let's have a seat, shall we?

[He wonders if Connie or someone close to him is ill, in which case he will do everything within his power - and beyond - to fix it.]

Edited 2021-08-08 07:55 (UTC)

[Glasses, yes, he's not quite made it to drinking vodka straight from the bottle yet (he would like to think, anyway). He gestures distractedly at a fancy hutch on the side of the room closest the kitchen, where the Nice Glasses are visible, as he sinks down onto the couch. While he waits he taps his fingers on his knees while simultaneously bouncing one leg agitatedly, the perfect picture of a calm and collected individual. It's— He just—

He manages to wait until he has a glass in hand, giving himself time to collect his thoughts. Danya does not need a primer on the state of his world, at least, which means he can start somewhere sort of in the middle:]

My city is not saved, after all. [A beat.] I have learned— definitively, from someone trustworthy— that when we are spat out of this place we... revert to how we left our homes.

[He taps his fingers on the side of the glass now, lips pursed. In a smaller voice he continues, gaze distant:]

When misfortune sends me home I will be sick again. Like my father's people, and your town, and— I don't want to die.

[Daniil is back to his side, refilling the nice little glass as frequently as needed. He listens and nods, his frown deepening. Personally, he has always thought his stay in this strange world was on borrowed time. The Powers that Be, or his own disgrace, would catch up with him sooner or later. But this is a completely different matter. Constantin doesn't deserve any more suffering. And Daniil will not allow any harm to befall him.]

You won't die. [He promises, holding his free hand.] I won't let you die, Connie. Least of all from some wretched plague.

[Ah, that helps - the drink, the words, the hand in his, all of it. If Constantin believes anyone will try their damnedest to perform some miracle across worlds to keep him alive, Daniil and his quest to defeat death are first in the running. It doesn't shake the cold dread, the sour feeling in his stomach he keeps returning to, but it gets him to quirk a smile for a couple seconds, so that's something.

He squeezes Daniil's hand and leans sideways to sink into him; he can multitask with the drink.]

...Do you need more blood? [Proof it's serious: he offered.] I don't know what to do beyond keep my fingers crossed that I will never leave this place again.

[Popping back home and really quickly trying to cure the incurable plague seems like the impossible option even if he had a choice, so it's this world for the foreseeable future. Luckily this world is better in almost all respects than the one he's left... present company included.]

Were you busy? I am unspeakably glad that you came.

[He did offer, didn't he? He must be terrified, his poor dear. Well, this doctor knows from vast experience that the best remedy for that is copious amounts of alcohol.]

I do, but no blood tests today, dear. [He refills Connie's cup with a conspiratory little smile] Vodka interferes with the results, you see.

[Danya strokes Connie's soft blond hair, readjusting his own arms, so his poor prince can rest his forehead on his shoulder as they drink. His own precious brain is working at full speed.]

Pathogens are very smart and creative little buggers, but what once was a deadly plague becomes a harmless flu in the future. Why, it may even cease to exist entirely! Scientia potentia est, as they say. Fortunately, this place is futuristic enough. So first, I'll check what the gems have on you. They must have had access to your body upon arrival, and if they are remotely competent, they kept records on any abnormalities. Second, I'll inoculate you against the most common diseases, particularly those that hold similarities to your home world's plague. That should keep you safer until I come up with a vaccine just for you.

[See? He has a plan. He can be the dashing doctor in his long snakeskin coat once more. He used to be very good at that.]

Mm, nothing much. Just another step towards defeating Death.

[Step, get it? Daniil is very proud of his private joke.]

[Oh, lucky, no blood tests until later. Constantin hums appreciatively and sips at his cup again; already he wants only to just melt on Daniil for the rest of the evening, but straight vodka and sadness do that to a person, he supposes. It's comforting to hear this, ah... plan? Is it a plan? He doesn't know what half of these words even are that Daniil is going on about, and not only the Latin.

But it sounds very plan-like, and he delivers it with the confidence of a dandy doctor who has already done the whole thing, not simply talked about it, which is encouraging in its own way. Constantin can't help but wonder if anything they can do while still here will... take? Will it matter if he's in perfect health here if they will put him back to how he was? Can medicine also defeat Time?

Still, it's worth a try. He would rather not die, and mm, that there are those here who would try for him, or talk to him through a door while he quietly breaks down— that's nice. That's better.

And yet:] You are going to think me some backwards fool puttering about in the muck, but what is a vaccine?

[He can guess from context, maybe, but what? The doctors at home merely take blood until it's visibly sick and then that's the entire treatment, so... huh?

Luckily (?), he's feeling decent enough to let out a dry little laugh.]

Do you remember when you wanted me to be your assistant? I suppose I nearly am!

[Ha ha... an assistant specifically to give blood samples and mope, buuuut...]

[Daniil is currently very keen on holding Constantin closer and using his doctor voice to soothe his anxiety. He has never had a boyfriend before, and he refuses to let this one die on his watch. Connie wants to live and, given Daniil's recent experience, that makes everything a little easier. What if he needs to break time and space to help him? It can be done. The Stamatins'architecture taught him so.]

A vaccine is like your own personal shield. [He presses his gloved hand to Constantin's heart.] We smart doctors create a harmless version of a disease and inject it in the patient's blood stream. The body - believing it's under attack - summons its defenses, so when the real disease comes along, it finds the patient ready to easily expel it for good.

[The hand on Constantin's heart moves to his face, caressing those perfect cheeks.]

There are two possible outcomes. If you keep at least some current aspects of your body when you return, if you return, then the vaccine will protect you right away. Even a little blood will do. If somehow your body is...entirely reverted to the status quo, we must also find a method to deliver the vaccine and other medications to you on the other side. Just as you brought your fancy gun to us. Either way, my favorite assistant is absolutely forbidden to leave until we find a solution. That would be terribly unprofessional, wouldn't it?

Edited 2021-08-08 17:11 (UTC)

[Vaccines actually sound kind of terrifying, he thinks, so he's grateful for the point that this is a Harmless Version of a disease, however that works. Does it work? He trusts Daniil not to give him various diseases just for fun, so... okay. At least he's volunteered for this; whatever was done to him by GemSci may have worked, but did he sign a form? No!

So, then, vaccines and outcomes. It's so scientific in here, and he is listening as intently as he can. The double whammy of vodka and being so very ye olde is working overtime.]

I do have another one of those stones... [uhhh don't think about how that means he 100% waltzed back into the Underground again, not right this second,] I suppose I should keep it for a while.

[His own pocket-sized insurance policy. Perhaps if it stays in his pocket for the rest of time, it will come with him should he ever be abruptly returned to New Serene. Does it work like that, perhaps if he wears the same outfit he arrived here in, or something? He was so certain the "time stops" element only applied to the people left behind, and that he could dip back in with whatever he happened to have on him from here in the city...

Well, he doesn't especially want to find out firsthand if his is somehow a special case, so: a healthy dollop of guesswork will have to suffice. Liem had called it "uninterrupted," so the stone plan is already shaky...

He sighs, morose and embarrassed about it, eyes closing as he tilts his head into Daniil's hand. Mmmm...]

And I have never been unprofessional in my life, as you know, [he mumbles, with the slightest of smirks. Baby steps.] It would be foolish of me to start now, you're right.

[Daniil would assume that his ethics are in much better shape than GemSci's. After all, those are the same people who turned an infirmary into a dancing floor. Outrageous.

Speaking of ethics, maybe getting your boyfriend drunk would be frowned upon in certain circles, but Daniil is very much of the Stamantin school of thought. And so he just hugs Connie closer and makes a mental note to have a bucket, fresh water and painkillers ready in the morning.]

Is your stone too large? We could turn it into a necklace or a ring, so it would be always on your person. But never fear, if you ever lose it, I will be the one crossing worlds to find you. After all, it would be a shame to lose such a dedicated assistant.

[He kisses the top of the precious blond head. Perhaps that is not a promise he can keep. It wouldn't be the first and hardly the last. But he's ready to stab Malachite himself if necessary. Burakh is not the only one capable of killing deities, or so he would like to believe.]

[Did GemSci also take his blood in a powder room? He doesn't know! Truly despicable.

But oh, he's already had too much alcohol to be at all prepared to hear something as wholeheartedly devoted as I will be the one crossing worlds to find you. It may not be a feasible promise, but that Daniil would say it at all is full marks. There's too much vodka and feelings in him to fuss over something as petty as logistics and realism in the face of something so romantic, so: oh! He shifts, sitting up solely to down the remainder of his glass (definitely wise) so that he can set it down on the coffee table and sink back into Daniil without any distractions.

Give him a moment, again, although this time the rush of emotions he needs to process are not all so dour. Crossing whole worlds for him, mmph... that's the stuff.]

Will you? Will I open my study door to find you all tousled and breathless, the same as you turned up here?

[Very sexy, if he ignores the part where in this fantasy scenario, he has the plague. He's allowed to indulge during his very bad week, slipping an arm snugly around Daniil's waist.]

...Perhaps I could put it on my key ring. The stone.

[Connie is such a sweet drunk. Daniil thinks he should shower him with romantic oaths more often. He certainly deserves them and much more. After a stretch of more or less comfortable silence, he leans closer to open Connie's shirt and take his shoes off, for nobody should ever sleep on their shoes. Especially if they get this languid after a few cups, such a lightweight, his Connie.]

I'd come riding a midnight black steed, or a gigantic toad...whatever your people use for quick transportation.

[He kisses the top of his head again for good measure.]

I approve of the key ring. Very symbolic.

[In defense of his ability to hold his liquor, he has not eaten anything today, because he was too sad. That's not much of a defense, but look: he's not panicking, for the moment. It worked!]

A toad? What sort of people would ride toads?

[They're slimy, how gross. He's busy thinking about toads while Daniil takes off his shoes - so considerate? - and takes that as a sign that he should sink even lower, until he's completely laid his head in Daniil's lap. Hm, yes, 10/10.

After a moment he reaches up to touch his cheek, fond. He can't possibly thank him enough for just... showing up? Dropping everything to come and listen to his woes? Mm.]

You'll stay, won't you? Can your steps against death wait until morning?

[Or whatever the heck he was doing at home, Danya Stuff...]

[Food can wait. Liquids must come first, even if they are 40% alcohol. Why, when it comes to psychological ailments, it's the thought that counts.]

Ah, forgive me for always picturing you as a beautiful fairy tale prince in your emerald castle. Do you know toads can jump fifty feet or more?

[Very fast and efficient. Pity Daniil would crack his skull in the first hop. So perhaps it's quite fortunate there are no domesticated toads in Connie's world?]

I'll stay. [He says without hesitation. Yes, he's married to his work, but he's also terrified of losing his people again.] As for that specimen, its contractions must have ceased by now. Alas, galvanization and chemistry can only take them so far.

[Either that or he will have to delve under his bed for a severed foot again.]

[Fifty feet, good gracious. He makes a face, like actually, riding a toad right now would make him throw up all that therapeutic vodka even faster than he undoubtedly will in the morning. No, a nice cart that stays on the ground is best... a nice boat on a very calm sea... yes.]

It's a house, actually. I could show it to you on my mirror. [The magic one, so maybe don't think too hard about that right now. Governors don't get castles; it's a big house? That counts? Doesn't matter. Constantin smooths a thumb over his cheek before dropping his hand to find Daniil's and hold it secure against his chest. Yes, stay, and stick pins and needles in whatever that "specimen" is later. Contractions...?

He is too full of liquor to understand medical mysteries, for sure, but that won't stop him from asking:]

What sort of specimen?

[Like... a rat or something... surely a Whole Thing...]

Of course, I wish to see your home, my dear. Everything about you interests me beyond measure. Though, I don't understand how a mirror could help us. Is it some sort of computer screen?

[Daniil has been learning about computers. He can't imagine how he survived without e-mails until now! Science is all powerful indeed.

He pats Connie's chest, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat. Mmm, he thinks his boyfriend might be falling asleep. Hopefully the answer to his question will not excite him too much?]

A foot. It belonged to a young lady, but I had to perform an amputation after her tragic accident, so she kindly gave it to me as payment for my services. I've been stimulating it with chemicals and electrodes in an attempt to replicate motor responses. Naturally, that's only an imitation of life, but a careful study of what it lacks may lead me to the real prize!

[A foot... She gave him her literal foot... Boyfriends are incredibly wild. Constantin processes this information with a furrowed brow, like, A whole foot?— but what does he know, he supposes. In his drunken wisdom he looks at his own feet and wonders what an electrode is.]

What would a foot come back to life do for the rest of its time? Just toddle around?

[What a life. Would the foot be bored. He considers it, and the alcohol makes it less morbid, which is pleasant. Much to think about vis-a-vis poking body parts. He looks up at Daniil again.]

My mirror is magic— don't make faces. [he's watchin] I have it in my pocket, do you want to see it now?

[Indulge him, darling. He's already tugging the fancy little compact out of his pocket by its pretty chain, so please admire it.]

[A wondering Constantin is the cutest thing, or so his wild boyfriend thinks. He kisses the precious space between the man's eyebrows, glad he is thinking about the right kind of death. That is, not his own.]

I honestly wish I knew. This one merely contracts itself and wrings its toes, but it has probably lost impetus by now. Of course, if I had a whole body, it would be a completely different matter. There's nothing more stunning than a proper reanimation.

[Constantin knows the little doctor so well. He does make a face at the m word. Still, he can't help but abide to his dear's wishes, especially when he's in such a sad state.]

...I see it comes in a beautiful shape, at least.

[Hmm, yes, a proper reanimation, sure thing— Constantin hums while he fiddles with the mirror, uncertain if he would like to see a whole reanimation, currently. A foot is different, but he supposes depending on how many affectionate little kisses he earns for supporting Danya's Doctor Time, he can make some adjustments...

Later, though. The poor foot.]

Darling, is there a foot sitting out on your dining room table as we speak? What if she tried to escape before losing her verve?

[Imagine! Anyway, the mirror: once he's got it open he squints at it for a moment, to ensure that the random memory of hopefully his house is, indeed, his house, then he holds it up so Daniil can see. The house is large, and since this is a point-of-view memory, the sight of it keeps bobbing in and out as the past Constantin looks at all kinds of other things - the truly annoying amount of stairs up to the house, the construction scaffolding still clinging to its far side, the little brownstone next door, a side street leading to who knows what kind of exciting mysteries - but at the top of the stairs, the house. A guard hastens forward to open the front doors, revealing just a glimpse of opulent tile flooring and another staircase on the far side of the foyer, and then the memory loops back to the beginning.

Please behold!!]

You made a face.

[If supporting Doctor Time means more kisses, Constantin is a very lucky man indeed, for Daniil is very fond of both.]

It would be very exciting if she did, wouldn't it? [His whole face is alight with the idea, like a little boy presented with very sugary chocolate cake.] That would be a new record, and perhaps a sign of sentience!

[But oh, your Excellency, your house is so big. He's making another face again, but this time it's a mix of wonder and concern.]

I did.[It's a magical mirror, he can't help it.]But, dear...Don't you feel a little claustrophobic now? Your new home is very nice, but much smaller than what you're used to.

[Should he procure a French villa for him? He will have to threaten a lot of people, but he could give it a try.]

[Never before has a man looked so very endearing while thinking about an amputated foot traipsing around his house and trying to escape. This is definitely a world record- a worlds record- and Constantin does what anyone would do: leans up from his lap to kiss him on the cheek about it.]

In that case, I wish her all the best. Should she hop down to the Embassy, I will help her with the paperwork.

[Hah... now, as for this house, it's certainly not tiny... Constantin looks at the mirror again, still looping his New Serene memory.]

The ground floor and the one above are offices for myself and my staff, and the reception room to entertain annoying ambassadors. [Which sucks and he hates doing that, but c'est la vie.] My actual living space is solely the third floor.

[Constantin reaches for his hand to hold again, thinking and trying not to dip back into the deep melancholy over... architecture.]

My most fastidious defender, always looking out for me— worry not! I like this house.