“I have not had the chance to ask her, yet, but I cannot imagine her seeing a problem with it.”

His imagination was apparently not very vivid.

“She has no family of her own, and she wanted the best for her child-- when that time comes.”

His child, too, now that he had accepted. It was still taking some getting used to.

Shy with ordering! How cute! He could order him around any day! Er, in a completely platonic, mostly-clothed way, of course.

“Two risottos, and a bottle of champagne for the table, please.”

“Yes sir,” the waiter acknowledged, and looked to Crane silently to see if he would add to the order.

Elijah nodded with a small smile. "Of course, and maybe any children you have in the future. If she agrees." He said.

He hadn't thought it through, truly. He had little time if he was made a parent, but he could never imagine something happening to Zechariah and he was sure the lucky woman would be fine too. Still he considered it.

"Ah.. t-that's all." Elijah said to the waiter and smiled weakly though he already knew the waiter wouldn't smile back or soften the stiff visage.

As expected, the waiter turned away with little fanfare.

“Any luck of your own on the … high seas?”

Hm. He supposed if men were their sirens, then women would be …

“Of finding safe harbor?”

Please let him be off limits. His fidelity to a woman who already promised him lovers was questionable enough.

Immediately, Elijah looked embarrassed and could no longer control himself. His hands rubbed together to keep them busy and he looked away.

"Ah. That.. I mean. I gave up looking in the paper. I am almost afraid to check my mail after that article." He wasn't too afraid, he'd travel through hell for a letter from the man who sat before him.

"And I've not met anyone. Though it isn't unusual, I don't go looking. It..." leads to dead ends and heart ache? "Is an empty venture. But I'm alright. I have a friend and I can keep busy with work and people need me. I thought a lot time ago I would end like this so it isn't unexpected." He said looking down a bit shamefully. How dare he ever expect anything else? One priest teased and hurt him without meaning to and the other gave him hope that he shouldn't have had. Elijah knew better and that he was being a fool to even think his luck would change when nothing else had.

For the moment, Zechariah took his words at face value. He was even more touched by how timely Elijah was, when it seemed such an ordeal for him.

Zechariah stared at him. He traced all the edges, the valleys, the dips and the sheer artistry of Elijah’s face with his eyes.

Then he looked away, for that was a dangerous path to keep traversing.

He tried to deafen himself to the sound of his own heart beating, shuddering, echoing against the cracks Elijah’s words left him with. It was out of his hands. Sonia had made certain of that. He had been so close to – to something real …

The waiter slamming champagne down on the table startled his gaze back up.

“Thank you,” he said before he could even get offended, then got offended and glared at the waiter’s retreating back.

“How could anyone not love you?” he demanded, then cleared his throat and made it into a laugh. “Come now. A man who writes like you? I would be worried for my marriage if you were that type of scoundrel.”

Zechariah poured champagne for them both, fingers shaking with nervous energy.

Elijah wondered if he had said too much. He started to believe it when the other said nothing for a moment and stared. Was he evaluating how truthful it was? Or trying to see if there was actually any hope in the pathetic constable? It made him nervous but he dared not look away. It was only when the waiter loudly put down the bottle did he break eye contact. He stared up at the waiter and wonder if he noticed them looking at each other silently. That had to be weird right? He told himself not to think about it.

His attention went back to his companion when he spoke and he laughed embarrassed. It was a hard question and thinking about all of the answers was even harder to face.

"It isn't that hard to believe. I've barely had friends in my life. No one knows about what I could write. No one probably would even care. I'm not handsome or a social butterfly or anything that makes me worthwhile on meeting. I'm not someone people strive to meet in their lives. I'm just a simple man who works and then goes home to my small place and cat. And I'm happy with my life, I know I don't have much to offer I just wished I had someone to share it with. But it hasn't happened and my few attempts have been ... disheartening at least. So I think its better for myself emotionally that I face reality. I'm fine keeping things the way they are and not keep trying for something that only hurts in the end."

There were so many things he wanted to say to him. So many emotions, just under the surface … and so many more, far deeper than he wanted to dive.

Wanted to dive now. Now that it was over. Now that they had to move on. Now that he had bribed the most popular Pony jeweler for Sonia’s size (look, she blackmailed him, but was not all courting between men and women an elaborate dance of blackmail?) and had the wedding bands picked out.

I care! he opened his mouth to say, but then closed it. Fuck off! I laid candles out for a handsome man! he kept bit behind his lips. But the insistence that he was happy was … maybe true? Hopefully true?

Well. He would trust Elijah with his life – just not his opinion of himself.

“I—” love you, stop talking down on the man I love “– understand. I … hope—” what did he even hope of this? “That you find happiness, in whatever form that may take. I am happier that I have you in life.”

… Was he? It was rather exhausting to care so much for someone who was so casually cruel to himself. But he wanted it to be true, and therefore it was.

Elijah was clearly not happy, at least at the moment. He kept a small smile on his face though he felt awkward by the conversation. He could tell something was going through Zechariah but he had no clue what it was. He thought perhaps there was something there between them, but he was engaged and was still going that direction full force. It was like Gabriel all over again, there was someone or something else out there that they were devoted to and he had to be happy and supportive as much as it reminded him that he was never good enough.

Just thinking about it had him biting back any signs of the familiar ruminations on everything wrong or just not good enough in his life and how everyone around him moved on even if not happy, at least with a direction where to find it. He shut his eyes and pretended to clear his throat to compose himself. "Thank you. I.. will find my happiness somewhere eventually, I'm sure." He wasn't, not at all. "And thank you, I'm very lucky to have you as my friend. It makes me happy." And then he had to keep talking. Perhaps because his eyes were still closed and he was wanting to talk as it let him pour out words and not keep residing in his own thoughts.

"So many people in my life I worry they are there because I am useful. I helped a friend, Ruth, the other week. I watched her kids while she... I don't know where she went. I had to take them with me to work. And my family friend, the Wards. They were t here for me growing up and I'm always grateful to them. But sometimes, I worry they still keep me around because whenever they need a constable, they run to me." He looked down. "But the priests at St. Hilda's have been very kind to me though it's their calling." It was more than that for Gabriel but it had gone too far for his comfort so now Elijah could never see him for the other man's own soul. "But you, have nothing to gain but you are still so kind to me. I look forward to your letters so much and being able to spend time like this is.. a relief and comfort." And reminded him that he was lucky to have Zechariah around as the other man could do so much better in company.

Zechariah watched Elijah’s struggles play across his face. Watched his expressions contradict his words. When was it he had started watching for those, in him? Usually, he afforded his friends some privacy in their emotions. Once upon a time, even, he never thought to question his friends.

Or his lovers.

But the words fell away in favor of one: Wards. He knew the Wards? Those bastard, self-destructive cretins? Words words something about letters Wards.

“Did you know Simon,” he deadpanned.

Not ‘a Mr. Simon Ward,’ or even ‘the convicted murderer Ward’. Simon. Slicing through the air as intimately familiar as a surgeon’s knife with layers.

Elijah had accidentally said too much again. Poured out a heart better kept hidden and he wasn't sure if he was grateful or not that the only thing the other cared about was the Wards. The question though did catch him off guard.

"Simon Ward? Y-yeah. He was like a younger brother to me. You knew him?" He asked curiously as he looked at Zechariah, wanting an explanation. Even just to sate his curiosity.