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[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.