For a good minute René only stared back, but no, Zacheus was still there. He opened his mouth, but his thoughts quickly caught up and he decided better than to question it. Closing his mouth into a grin, he reached over and grasped Zacheus by the hand (careful not to touch fabric) to pull him into his kitchen corner.
"Alright, the real reason is because I don't know if I'm allowed a plus one in the kitchen, but." At this he looked around and then leaned in, as though he was preparing to exchange secrets, and said, "If you get caught we'll just say you're one of the performers who grabbed something to eat after the show."
He let go and stepped away, leaning his back against the sink. "Now quick, if they ask for proof, what sample of your act are you going to give?"
Caught off-guard by the sudden contact, Zacheus let himself be dragged into the corner. His bemused expression gave way to a more neutral one as he listened, but he immediately started shaking his head ‘no’ once he realized what René was getting at. “I’m not—no,” he said firmly, in a no-nonsense voice usually reserved for Lille or Conan. “No one wants that. It would be easier to tell them I’m with security.”
René laughed. "Alright, alright," he conceded, knowing well enough that this was how Zacheus would respond and that there was little give otherwise. "Security works too. I already feel safer with my own personal bodyguard around."
Turning on the faucet, he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and began scrubbing the dishes in the sink. "So," he started, eyes drifting to Zacheus, "what's on the top of your wishlist for Faram's Mass this year?" It was a safer question than asking how he'd been or what was new with his life. He was overthinking it, probably, but René wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answers to those questions anyway. "Or did you already get it?"
“Peace and quiet,” Zacheus answered, not missing a beat. In all honesty, there wasn’t much he wanted. His friends and family were all in good health, which was all he could ask for after such a—hectic year. “But that’s wishful thinking.”
There was a niggling urge to lean against the counter as René busied himself with the dishes—he could pick up a towel, offer to help out. Instead, he scratched at his chin, shrugging. “What about you? Are you—” doing okay, he wanted to ask, but, “—doing anything special this year?”
“No,” René said, smile waning into something more subdued, “just peace and quiet for me.” Unless he was bent on wreaking havoc alone. His mother was probably already in Ordalia now, and so his plans for Faram’s Mass consisted of cleaning the apartment and maybe opening up the bakery for people who needed last minute yule logs.
He set things out on a dish rag as he finished rinsing them, ready to be dried later. Things were going well so far, and he wasn’t going to be the one to break the facade of an easygoing conversation. René chuckled down at his dripping hands and said, a little more loudly this time, “I hope that’s not what you’ve been telling everyone who’s asked. There’s really nothing special that you’ve been hoping for? Another suit, maybe?”
There were a number of things Zacheus wanted to say in response to René’s holiday plans, their shared history weighing heavily in his chest, but René had already breezed past the topic, bouncing back to good-natured jokes at Zacheus’ expense. If that’s what René wanted, then so be it. It wasn’t exactly difficult to match his smile and laugh with one of his own.
“Yes, that’s exactly it. You know me too well.” There was a pause; his own smile waned by a few degrees. “I hate to leave you without a bodyguard,” he said slowly, with the faintest trace of wistfulness, “but I ought to get back.”
Zacheus was back in the doorway in a few strides. “Have a good holiday, René.”
“You too, Zach.” After standing in the kitchen alone for a while, listening to Zacheus’ footsteps blend into ambient noise behind the doors, he resumed washing.