[Okay so he's definitely called Laurent on lying through his teeth by now but that doesn't mean he's going to stop giving the guy shit for it. Not when he's constantly stopping in for food or to check in or whatever other reason he decides on any given day. Gladio's working outside most of the time but the space between their houses is small enough that he ends up chattering at Laurent often enough. Or chattering in general. Building plans, food plans, offers to make them a bed if they want?
So he feels pretty comfortable with Laurent, scheming jerk sure but no worse than Iggy when he was really on his game. He just wasn't used to being on the receiving end of that kind of thing anymore. So when he sees Laurent duck into the house to bother Ignis (who's not even home if he remembers right) he sets his tools aside and follows along, still aching slightly from the battle with Bliss but mostly healed up.]
Hey, got plans for a stove soon. [He's talking before he's even made it inside, stepping in and casually throwing an arm over Laurent's shoulders, leaning in with the kind of grin that means he's going to ask for something.]
[Ignis is still the most satisfying to squabble with, but Gladio is a yappy kind of wolfhound and Laurent isn't afraid to go a few rounds with him. It takes some burden off Damen, too, who not to mention takes most excuses to say hi to Prompto. They're great models of neighbourliness.
He's dropping off some foraged foodstuffs for Ignis to Deal with, and doesn't bat an eyelid when Gladio enters.]
Oh?
[He might've made an Ignis impression but alas for us all, Gladio goes straight for what everyone in Arles would tell you is a stabbable offense.
The blonde’s whole body tenses up. One has just a moment to recognise that before he unsheaths the knife at his belt and stabs, simultaneously pushing himself away from the contact.]
[The tension is odd but he doesn't think that much of it. They're friends so the last thing he really thinks to do is dodge a knife. The blade sinks in, just below his belt, slowed slightly by the leather of his pants but it still plunges in deep. and it isn't until the hilt is against his belly that he even realizes what's happening exactly. There's a stunned moment of silence where his mind tries to catch up with what's just happened. ]
Laur-? [He staggers backward, hands clutching at his hip, amber eyes wide. The moment of confusionbuys Laurent enough time to get away, certainly, but also enough time for Gladio to reach for his shield, the shatter of the armiger as it materializes on his arm, another stumbling step backward and he holds the shield tight to his body, trying not to jostle the wound too much.]
cw: uh. this has sexual references and i don't know what to tag it
[By the time Gladio recollects himself he will be facing down a sword.
Laurent's once again in the grey and silver he wore in the intro log, though just before this he'd been in completely different clothes. A few paces away, he's tense in a ready stance; his eyes are the hard blue of a coeurl staring down a hunter.]
Did you think I was an easy target?
[He’d assumed there’d not be this problem. But perhaps he had erred. Laurent’s voice is soft and sharp, like broken glass. ]
Pity for you, I'm a bit harder to get than your average back-alley whore.
[Fuck the costume change, forget the damn sword. He only has one question.]
What the FUCK!?
[Oh but yelling hurts and there's more blood slipping between his fingers now. He drops back to lean against the wall, shaking his head.]
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. But get out.
[He's not going to fight him, not like this, not over something so bizarre. He has no fucking clue what's happened but he slides down the wall, sinks to the floor, shield braced defensively in front of himself.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
late May Post-Bliss
So he feels pretty comfortable with Laurent, scheming jerk sure but no worse than Iggy when he was really on his game. He just wasn't used to being on the receiving end of that kind of thing anymore. So when he sees Laurent duck into the house to bother Ignis (who's not even home if he remembers right) he sets his tools aside and follows along, still aching slightly from the battle with Bliss but mostly healed up.]
Hey, got plans for a stove soon. [He's talking before he's even made it inside, stepping in and casually throwing an arm over Laurent's shoulders, leaning in with the kind of grin that means he's going to ask for something.]
Re: late May Post-Bliss
He's dropping off some foraged foodstuffs for Ignis to Deal with, and doesn't bat an eyelid when Gladio enters.]
Oh?
[He might've made an Ignis impression but alas for us all, Gladio goes straight for what everyone in Arles would tell you is a stabbable offense.
The blonde’s whole body tenses up. One has just a moment to recognise that before he unsheaths the knife at his belt and stabs, simultaneously pushing himself away from the contact.]
no subject
Laur-? [He staggers backward, hands clutching at his hip, amber eyes wide. The moment of confusionbuys Laurent enough time to get away, certainly, but also enough time for Gladio to reach for his shield, the shatter of the armiger as it materializes on his arm, another stumbling step backward and he holds the shield tight to his body, trying not to jostle the wound too much.]
cw: uh. this has sexual references and i don't know what to tag it
Laurent's once again in the grey and silver he wore in the intro log, though just before this he'd been in completely different clothes. A few paces away, he's tense in a ready stance; his eyes are the hard blue of a coeurl staring down a hunter.]
Did you think I was an easy target?
[He’d assumed there’d not be this problem. But perhaps he had erred. Laurent’s voice is soft and sharp, like broken glass. ]
Pity for you, I'm a bit harder to get than your average back-alley whore.
no subject
What the FUCK!?
[Oh but yelling hurts and there's more blood slipping between his fingers now. He drops back to lean against the wall, shaking his head.]
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. But get out.
[He's not going to fight him, not like this, not over something so bizarre. He has no fucking clue what's happened but he slides down the wall, sinks to the floor, shield braced defensively in front of himself.]
Get the fuck out.
no subject
[A warning, a threat. Then he's backing out through the door and turning tail into the sunlight.]