Chapter Text
Hours later, the room had settled from the initial excitement into collective tense patience, the trickle of conversation running fairly dry. Food for lunch had been served, the IPRE taking into account each of the needs the applicants had mentioned in their forms. The salmon had been a little dry, and Johann knew there was something the potato sauce needed but once again he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d never been much of a cook but flavors were something he understood alright.
Lucretia and Darry had their interviews which, according to them, seemed to have gone well? Neither of them returned with Magnus’ matching confidence, but that seemed a high bar to reach no matter what the context. Lucretia’s only real remark about how she thought hers went was, “I spend all my time writing about other people and then when it comes time to talk about myself, I’m all out of words to say.” She seemed deflated but by no means defeated.
Darry remarked on his surprise and anxiety over the fact that his interview ran a little long. Davenport had seemed less phased by his necromantic studies, and instead they’d gotten into a genuine discussion about how one might incorporate planar science into that research. Darry said something about how souls, after death, “take the most direct and therefore accessible route between two planes, and that route could be the key to interplanar travel via that next dimension of reality that is the arcane net, and—” and Johann quickly lost track of the more nuanced concepts, but he certainly believed that at least someone at that table knew what the fuck they were talking about, which comforted him more than it seemed to comfort Darry.
What worried Johann was that each person’s account of their interview gave him nothing to prepare for; they each described it as a conversation, and that the Captain just chatted with them for a while. He didn’t always ask the same questions and they never seemed to be leading towards something specific, which means there didn’t even seem to be solid basic answers to give. Johann could only hope they’d stay in his wheelhouse, tiny as it was, because he could go on and on about music for hours but beyond that, his skills included some customer service, filing, and being able to bring down the mood in a room with one lethally self-deprecating comment. He also worried that all this stress wasn’t actually getting him anywhere and he was getting all worked up for nothing.
It was another hour and a half after lunch before finally—finally—Purple returned to the podium, bouncy and unbothered as usual, and called out his name.
“Johann Ne— Nepomuk?” She faltered slightly with the pronunciation and he grimaced as he rose from his seat, already having been ready to get up and go since they started on the last names starting with L.
“Good luck,” Darry said, setting a hand on the table in the space between his seat and Johann’s.
“Gonna need it. Pray they don’t kick me out,” the young bard replied, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his violin case to procrastinate following Purple to those double doors.
“You’ll be fine!” Magnus held up two thumbs with a wide, encouraging smile. “You’ll kill it!”
Lucretia stood too, reaching out with a small lean and catching Johann’s hand as it fumbled the buckle. “Don’t sell yourself short, Johann,” she murmured, repeating her earlier statement. “You didn’t cause the disruption earlier, Waan did, and besides, Davenport’s just one person.”
Johann met her eyes, hesitant. “So?”
“So,” Lucretia continued, raising one eyebrow. “So, you’re not going up against an army. He’s a stranger, he’s one guy. You can play better than a thousand, I’m sure of it.”
Johann’s breath hitched, the praise delivered so gently and so earnestly that he couldn’t act like she didn’t mean it.
Lucretia juts her chin towards the door where Purple waits. “Go kick ass. We’ll see you after, no question.”
Johann hesitated for another beat before nodding, pulling away and maneuvering through the tables with slow steps, aware that he was being tracked by more than half the room. Now he felt bad for watching all the previous people leave, because he was realizing that the feeling of having all these eyes on him fucking sucked.
Purple stepped backwards through the open doors as he followed, grinning at him with the kind of vacancy that only came from a negative intelligence modifier. The double doors swung shut of their own volition like a vault and a shiver ran up Johann’s spine as he was once again basically alone, trailing behind Purple.
They passed two more conference rooms, where two more blazer-wearing IPRE employees were leading other interviewees along the same route, and it was a strange little parade that made its way through the hall. The knowledge that the other interviewees were also heading in the same direction as him was at least comforting because it meant he wasn’t being kicked out right away without a chance. Johann focussed his attention on the others to ignore the nervous nausea building in his gut.
The woman walking right beside him was a languid looking elf, already taller than him by a few inches and made taller by heels. Her hair was a wild mane of shockingly neon electric green curls, betrayed as dye by dark brown roots, themselves almost black and darker than her own warm brown skin. With her sleek and sleeveless grey dress, eyes darkened by mascara and liner, and the hard line to her jaw that didn’t make time for bullshit, she seemed to Johann to be well-prepared to face the interview, which he envied immensely. The birch wand she spun rapidly between her fingers like a baton never faltered, even after she broke off from the little march to follow the employee guiding her to one particular closed door in a row of three. Before walking in, she tapped the wand against her temple and the neon green curls shifted to a sort of desaturated scarlet that very neatly matched the IPRE uniform colors. Johann noted the cleverness of the magic as she entered the door to begin her interview; it was the kind of thing he used to do all the time.
The other person was a dwarf man, tottering ahead of Johann, older and surprisingly green as well, though his was a pastel hue to his trimmed beard and hair and a small daisy poking out from the tight ballet-style bun at the back of his head, restrained neatly by white netting. He was the most casually dressed of any of the people Johann had seen so far, in leather sandals and khaki pants with a pale blue short-sleeved button-up. The dwarf shot Johann and the elf woman a suspicious squint when he first saw them, flashing a smile but seeming to restrain his friendliness against their perceived competition. His door was the second, and when the strap of his leather satchel got caught on the door handle, he cursed softly while unhooking it before disappearing into the room.
Then Johann was alone in the hall again, far from his new friends who suddenly felt miles away, and Purple was coming to a stop in front of the third door, unassuming and terrifying with its absolute blankness. There could be anything on the other side of that door—Johann felt his heart rate spike as he stood before it.
“Go in,” Purple urged, her accented voice amused and nonchalant. “He’s waiting.”
Right. There couldn’t be anything on the other side. It was just one guy, and he was waiting, and Johann was overthinking things again.
Fuck it.
The door handle was cold when he grasped it to enter, putting all his confidence into stepping into the room and closing it firmly behind him before turning to face what was next.
He was standing at one end of a small conference room. A long, oval table stretched along its length, and the far wall was all glass, looking out onto the Institute’s campus. Johann took in a deep breath, soothed by the sight of the teal grass and the soft lilac hue of the sky, reassuring in its familiarity. It was a meditative contrast to the hard lines and minimalism and artificial lighting of the Institute.
Almost like an afterthought, Johann saw Davenport then, in a seat near the end of the table jotting something down in a small notebook. To the Captain’s right was a stack of thick manila folders.
The Captain glanced up to see Johann in the doorway, brow raising with clear recognition. “Ah,” he began. “Mr. Nepomuk, come in.” His expression and tone were careful in their neutrality, restrained and professional.
Just like that, Johann felt in his gut that he’d failed. No way a greeting like that could mean anything other than blatant disapproval, blatant failure, right? Should he run? Should he just bail right now? Even just these ten minutes could feel like a century if he spent the whole time trying to defend himself when clearly what he’d done to disrupt everything earlier was indefensible.
Davenport quickly noted something down and then gestured to the seat across from him. “Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.”
Well, now it was too late to run for sure. Johann nodded, mute, and approached, removing his violin case to set that down first, interrupted by Davenport rising slightly and offering a hand for him to shake. It was a clammy and hesitant handshake, and Johann immediately felt more terrible wiping his sweaty palm on his pants as he sat.
Now, Johann could just barely read the labels on the folders. Each read terrifying things like ‘REJECT’ and ‘POTENTIAL MATCH’ and ‘PRESUMPTIVE MATCH’ with varying amounts of papers within. The presumptive folder appeared to be empty and that wasn’t encouraging at all.
“I, um,” Johann started to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Your application intrigued me,” The Captain replied, launching right into it. “I’m sorry to skip the formalities, but we only have so much time to fit everyone in.” Under the notebook, now, Johann saw the same forms he’d filled out weeks ago. There were notes scribbled along the edges, his own words circled in red ink, notations scattered around the pages. They were practically bleeding.
“It, uh, intrigued you?” Johann asked, shifting slightly in his seat.
“Yes, it did.” Davenport regarded him with an open gaze, less hostile than Johann expected. “I’m curious. Why did you apply if you don’t think you’re good enough to be here?”
Johann blinked, thrown off entirely. The Captain didn’t sound like he was angry or… disapproving. Hm. Boy, that sure was a question.
“I’ve heard you play now,” Davenport continued, filling the empty space where Johann was silent. “You’re very talented. You’ve made friends, it looks like, without trickery or illusion. Those indicate to me that you have a technical and open mind, which is absolutely key to this mission. Yet your application reads to me like you didn’t expect it to be taken seriously, or at the very least, don’t expect to be taken seriously yourself. So why apply?”
“I…”
This time, Davenport waited, taking down a few notes in the silence while Johann thought about his response.
“I guess…” Johann drummed his fingers on his knee, his other hand fidgeting with the zipper of his violin case. He’d expected Davenport to ask him to play. “Well, can I ask you?”
“Ask what?” Davenport’s brow creased with confusion.
“Why am I here if you thought that I didn’t want you to take me seriously?” He hesitated. “Uh, sir.”
Davenport hummed, and Johann spotted a glint in the gnome’s eye that he prayed he was recognizing correctly as amusement. “I hoped,” the Captain replied, “That behind your genuine self-deprecation, though you may have been going for humility, there might be hidden skill.”
Okay. Johann definitely had hoped that his frankness about his lack of qualification would leave him open to molding. It wouldn’t be what your average interviewer wanted to hear, but nothing about this had been average until this point and there was no likelihood that would change. Plus, he’d already thrown his chance of pretending to be the perfect candidate out the door so it’s not like he had anything else he could try.
Yeah, fuck it. Sure.
“I… applied,” Johann started, “Because… I mean, I’m just a guy, right? I’m not good enough, really. Like, I didn’t invent anything, I’m no fantasy Bach, I’m nobody. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t hope that… that this could be where that changes, I guess?”
Davenport wrote a few lines of notes in his neat, tiny handwriting, and Johann silently bemoaned the distance that kept him from reading them. “You hope that you can become someone interesting here? That’s why you applied?”
Oh, that sounded like disappointment. Shit. Johann leaned slightly forward. “No, fuck no—uh, heck no, that’s—that’s not what I was saying, sorry, shit. I mean—” he paused, taking a breath and wincing at his stumbling words before starting again.
“I mean, that—that the Institute is… it’s a force for discovery, right? And that force… that discovery, that’s what drives us forward. And I don’t have, like, big dreams, y’know, I don’t need to be the name everyone knows, but—but I do want to—to do something for the world. I want to do something with meaning. Because right now, what I do, it’s meaningless, it’s bullshit. But I have my music, and...I think it made everyone happy when I played it before, and it makes me happy when I’m alone, and,” he paused for breath again, gauging the Captain’s reaction to his rambling. Davenport seemed receptive, his ears flicked forward and listening, his fingers interlaced and tapping against his lips, leaning back in his chair. Johann hesitated. Was this good? Was he making sense?
“And,” Johann continued, deciding he might as well finish his thought for no other reason than to get it out of his head. “And I mean, everyone likes music. Shit, if you just tell me you want me to stand in the lobby and play, I can do that. I just want to be a part of this, because it’s… it’s magical. It’s progress. I want to make progress.”
With that, he fell silent. He didn’t really think anything else he said on the subject would make his point any finer than that.
Davenport didn’t seem moved. Well, he did move, but he didn’t seem moved. Turning his head to look out the window, the Captain was silent for a long beat, his ears flicking occasionally. Johann couldn’t read the silence; there was no anger, no outburst, just that same slight twinkle in his eye that could be pretty much anything.
Maybe he thought Johann was funny and trying not to laugh at him.
Or maybe, he’d liked it.
Johann’s fidgeting with the violin case zipper increased. This was the worst thing ever. It felt like lifetimes were passing, and he was just waiting.
“Do you understand what the Institute is looking for, Johann? From the crew applicants?”
Johann hesitated. “A… group of people that all get along well enough to power the engine and are also really smart and can make a lot of discoveries?”
Davenport huffed a breath, looking over, the corner of his mouth tugging slightly with an unexpected smile, and Johann felt a small spark of encouragement. “Well, yes, if you want to be reductive. The bond engine would work for any happy and hardworking group of friends, sure. But it wouldn’t thrive. We want it to thrive, and that requires something more specialized.”
“Specialized?”
The Captain shifted in his seat, settling one elbow on the armrest and using both hands to gesticulate as he spoke, emphasizing his words. “The crew needs to build off of each other. Their strengths and weaknesses need to balance.” Davenport flattened his hands palm-up, moving them like opposite sides of a pair of scales, up and down. “Where one person lacks, another can fill the space, and foster growth. And where that person might lack in another place, someone else can fill in. Cohesive, and cooperative. Within them, they must be a community. That,” He continued, one finger pressing on the table surface to punctuate the word, “Is what will be consistently and structurally powerful enough to propel us not just into flight, but into the outer reaches of our observable Universe, and theoretically, beyond.”
Johann was captivated, listening to this. That vision, that community—the idea of it that Davenport was hunting for; it was entrancing.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft, hoarse at the thought of it. “Yeah, that’s what I want to be a part of.”
Davenport nodded. “Me too. But piecing together all the qualified individuals I find into a collective whole is, given the circumstances, incredibly difficult.”
“What circumstances?”
Davenport hesitated. “I—we, and by that I mean the three Captains, we’ve been given a fairly close deadline for selecting our crews, and so our process has been… somewhat truncated from the original concept. The vetting process, when we designed it, was less rushed.”
Johann leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table surface. “Why’d they shorten it?”
“I shouldn’t really be telling you this,” Davenport replied, frowning.
“Who am I gonna tell?”
“All the other applicants out there, for a start,” the Captain answered.
“Hell, I barely know them,” Johann grinned with a shrug. “Why would I give them any advantage?”
The Captain raised his brows. “That doesn’t make you sound like someone who works well in a team, withholding what you know.”
Johann pursed his lips. Shit. He’d just started to relax. “I was joking, mostly, but seriously. It’s not my business to tell, so I won’t. Wouldn’t change anything, right?”
“I suppose not,” Davenport mused, and then exhaled a resolute sigh. “There is a concern that if the vetting process takes long enough, public interest and our subsidized funding will have dried up before the crew is ready to launch. Thus, we’re being rushed somewhat. We have to trust our instincts more than we’d like.”
“Huh.” Johann considered that for a moment. “Lots of red tape behind the scenes.”
“To some degree, yes.”
“You’d think it would be more important than anything else to have a solid group, no matter how long it takes. Don’t they want the very best?”
“Well,” Davenport hesitated again. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t get any further into it with you.” Pausing to check his watch, he nodded. “We only have a few more minutes anyway; we need to stick to the topic at hand.”
“That topic being me.”
“Correct.” Leaning forward himself, Davenport glanced through his notes on Johann’s application and then flipped back a page or two in his little notebook. “Can you tell me a little more about your music?”
Oh, fucking excellent. Right back squarely in Johann’s comfort zone. “Sure, what do you want to know?”
Davenport met his eye, expression open and curious. “The piece you played today, it was incredibly complex. Your own work?”
“Yeah,” Johann nodded. “It’s—well, I played two pieces. I’m not sure where you came in, but the first was one I’ve been working on for a few weeks, and the other, the one I was playing against Waan—oh, shit, sorry about that, by the way—that one, I wrote about a thunderstorm.”
Davenport jotted something down. “I heard the end of the second—and don’t worry about Waan. I know he baited you; that’s taken care of. How long have you been writing music?”
Johann grinned. “Oh. I mean. Like, always, basically. I didn’t want to keep doing the same stuff over and over in lessons, I wanted something new. So I started tweaking, and then I just started trying my own shit, and then I tried different instruments, and yadda, yadda, yadda,” Johann waved his hand vaguely. “I don’t know. I’m better at putting things together myself. Maybe not on the fly, not yet, but like, the thunderstorm piece, I wrote it ages ago, but I don’t need the sheets for it anymore, or any of my songs. I just know them all, now.”
Davenport listened with studious interest, taking notes and nodding as Johann spoke. “I saw you mentioned your preference for string instruments. Do you—it wasn’t clear, so I’m sorry if I’m assuming incorrectly, but with your magic, do you find string instruments easier, or is there a different reason for that?”
“Well, as far as magic goes,” Johann started, “I kind of figured that out myself mostly too. I did the intro classes in high school, y’know, as you do, but, um… kinda like with my music, I guess, some things I wanted to do didn’t really fit the spells they were teaching. And I realized it was easier to be creative with string instruments. Especially the violin.”
“Creative with magic?” Davenport looked up now, meeting Johann’s eyes. “For example?”
“For example…” Johann paused, thinking back. “I mean… I don’t know, I just liked to shift things. Encourage them to change.” He looked away, outside, his hands dropping to his lap and wiping his palms on his pant legs. “Mostly, I got really good at knowing… like, how magic flowed in my body, I guess you’d call it? Like I figured out where the energy went for different kinds of intents, when I wanted something specific to happen. So I would sit and play and just feel the magic move and try to manipulate it and then I’d come up with something new.”
“Really?” The Captain’s brows rose, and Johann couldn’t quite tell if the emotion Davenport was expressing was that he was very impressed or very skeptical. “Can you give me an example?”
“Yeah, um.” Johann paused, and looked back to the Captain, evaluating whether he wanted to say what he knew was his best example. He didn’t usually tell people about it. It felt far too private. But something told him that this was someone who could, if not relate, at the very least, understand.
Mmmmmmmmmm… fuck. Fuck it. “I mean, I guess this wouldn’t be weird to explain here, since it is related, but I, uh. When I was younger, people thought I was a girl.” Johann looked away again, to his violin, and then back out the window. “And I realized I wasn't a girl around when I hit puberty. And that was the same time that I started figuring out the shit about spells and magic energy, so I was paying… a lot of attention to my body. And I started to figure out some songs, some sounds that seemed to influence my… hormones, I guess? And, uh. I started fucking with it, and I realized that I could tweak things, just a little, and I could only get it to work with my own compositions. Took a few years, and I’m still working on it, but y’know. It’s helped a lot.” He shrugged. “Helps in general, too, for my emotions, not just in the science-y way. I feel things really intensely, and the music is good for sorting that shit out.”
Feeling incredibly vulnerable, Johann’s ears dropped as he looked over to see Davenport’s reaction. He wasn’t worried about not being accepted, but he’d rarely told anyone about it before, and yet here he was, unpacking that suitcase.
The Captain had stopped in his notes, his pen frozen in place and bleeding a red dot onto the paper. He was staring at Johann with an amazed half grin, one side of his mouth tugged into an expression of pleasant surprise, and when they met eyes, Davenport exhaled a quick laugh and then looked down to continue his notes.
“Fantastic,” he muttered, jotting down something and then underlining it twice. Watching this, Johann felt a spark of warmth start to grow in his chest.
The Captain’s smile was slipping away now, back into the sort of measured propriety he’d had until that point. “That’s incredible. I’m amazed you haven’t explored the academics of that more. There are books about the overlap of rhythm in the body and in magic, written mostly by bards like—like yourself, but I doubt many discuss using those rhythms to alter their hormone balances to transition, I—” The smile started to return as the Captain became more animated in his explanation, until he caught himself with a huff, making another note. “I’d love to hear more about this.”
Johann released a held breath, his own smile starting to show. “I—yeah, I—I mean, I could go into detail now, but I don’t think we have the time, really, and some of it’s a little hard to put into words.”
“Oh, no, not now, in fact, I—” Davenport checked his watch, and nodded. “Yes, Purple will be back soon to take you back to the others, so there isn’t nearly enough time. But I might—depending on how things go, you know, I’ll—we’ll figure something out.” Leaning forward, the Captain began to gather his notes together, stacking them with Johann’s application as he continued. “Johann, if I or another Captain doesn’t select you, you should reach out to some of the universities or academies to share your work. You sound like you have a perspective that needs to be heard on the subject.”
The praise made the small warmth spread to fill Johann’s whole body, curling his toes and buzzing in his throat like a happy laugh. “I—thank you, sir, that’s—I mean, yeah, I haven’t done much yet because it’s felt kind of really personal and I’d have no idea where to start, but if—if you think that’s something, I might. If you don’t pick me.”
The Captain nodded, looking up to meet Johann’s eyes. “Frankly, even if I do, you should do it anyways. It wouldn’t hurt. Start by just taking notes, observing your experiences. Get down a record of your process, as detailed as you can, with explanations for why you make the choices you do. Oh,” he snapped his fingers, recalling something. “Ask your sister for help as well, with organizing it. She’ll have good advice.”
His— Johann was thrown off for just a moment, wondering how the Captain could have known about his family and then he remembered discussing it in his application. “Oh, oh yeah. I could do that. Actually, it’s funny, I can do that—I know I said we’re not that close, but she’s actually here too, applying for this job, and I found out when we saw each other this morning. Wild, right? You already interviewed her.”
“Yes, Lucretia mentioned you by name.” Davenport replied. “After speaking to her, I thought you might have just been joking about not being close, because she spoke very highly of you. You realize you both wore the same shade of green today, right? Was that not planned?”
Johann was definitely surprised now, caught completely off guard, and he looked down to check his shirt color, more than anything to give himself a movement to process what Davenport had said. Oh, shit, were they really both wearing the same green? “No, that—we didn’t plan that at all. Huh.”
“For two people raised largely apart, you’ve both got some fascinating things in common. Your creative minds could really be something if you put your heads together.” As the Captain spoke, he finished stacking all his papers, and when Johann looked up, his application had already disappeared into one of the manila folders, but he couldn’t be sure which one.
“I—yeah, I guess,” Johann replied, confused and thrown off by the direction the conversation had taken. Lucretia mentioned him? Why?
“Don’t overthink it, Johann,” Davenport flashed him a smile as he rose from his seat, holding out his hand for another shake. “She’s looking out for you.” It was like he’d heard Johann’s internal question.
Johann stood as well to reach across the table, his palm less sweaty that time, thankfully. “Sure. Y’know, if you’re gonna pick someone, it should be her. She’s a good writer, she knows her stuff.”
“Funny,” Davenport replied. “She said much the same about you.”
“She did?”
“She did.” The Captain checked his watch again. “Purple should be here in a moment.”
Johann nodded, stealing another glance outside and then turning his eyes back to the Captain and flashing him a hesitant smile. “Uh, thanks for the… interview? The opportunity. It was really cool talking to you.” Johann was silently amazed at the fact that he wasn’t even lying.
“Thank you for applying,” the Captain replied, his returning smile back to the practiced courtesy now. “You know, if every applicant were like you, it’d make my decision even more difficult.”
“What—” Johann was cut off in asking just what the hell that statement meant by the door to the conference room opening, and Purple ducking her head in.
“Time to go!” She chirped. “Hustle, hustle!”
“But—” Johann looked back to ask, but the Captain was already moving around the table and towards the door, where Purple was unclipping the next application from her stack and handing it to him. With a frown, Johann quickly gathered up his violin case and swung it over his head, moving to the door himself after a moment’s hesitation. Davenport already had his attention on the next person’s papers.
“Hep hep!” Purple beckoned Johann out without another chance to speak, pulling the door shut behind them both with finality.
“So, fantasy Olive Garden?” Lucretia asked as they pushed through the double doors of the main IPRE building to exit out into the evening air. Johann and she were walking side by side, Darry and Magnus a few steps behind them.
“Y’know, on second thought,” Johann paused, considering their options. He had one hand around the violin case strap, the other vaguely fiddling with a curl of his hair. “They’ve been feeding us all day, I’m not sure I’m hungry. And I think I’m too excited to eat, anyway.”
Lucretia looked over, disappointment welling up in her face. “Um, alright, we don’t… have to.”
“Sorry, I mean—I mean we should go somewhere else. I still want to hang, we just don’t have to like, do the whole sit down meal thing. That’s what I mean.” Johann slowed, watching her reaction.
“Oh.” Lucretia’s relief was clear. “That sounds fine, any ideas?” She slowed too, matching his pace. Before Johann could suggest anything, Magnus tripped between them and stumbled as the half-siblings simultaneously came to an awkward halt. He caught himself quickly, straightening and turning in one fluid motion. It looked almost coordinated, and Johann reluctantly admitted to himself that it was also... kind of hot.
“Hey!” Magnus grinned to them as he kept walking, slower and backwards and with his usual state of Labrador-esque bounciness. “See you all around, okay? You have my frequency! Give me a ring!”
Darry passed around from behind Lucretia, seemingly headed in the same direction as Magnus. He slowed somewhat to look back to Johann and Lucretia where they stood. “Uh, me too, yeah? We could—we could have lunch or something. That would be cool.”
Johann nodded, but in his stomach he had a niggling doubt that would happen. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed meeting them, because he really fucking had, but he wasn’t always good at keeping contact with people, because he worried that they never meant it when they invited him to do so and didn’t actually want to hear from him. Plus, they’d never have a reason to meet up again if they didn’t all get picked for the crew.
Though Johann, frankly, if he were being perfectly and totally honest with himself, wouldn’t mind seeing Magnus again, in a definitely less professional context. He was fucking honestly, a whole four course meal and his cheery attitude made Johann’s often morose perspective look a little less... hopeless.
Lucretia nodded as well, lifting a hand to them in a polite goodbye. “Sure, I’ll check my calendar and we can set something up.”
Johann felt the same doubt in her tone as he’d felt, and found that surprisingly comforting. Darry nodded, turning back, and after Magnus shot Johann a wave and a wink, both men continued making their way off into the city.
“So where to?” Lucretia asked, looking back to Johann. “Any favorites?”
“Uh.” It only took Johann a second before, “Oh, duh. That park, the one in your sketchbook. I love that place, let’s go there.”
Lucretia’s hesitant smile reappeared, and Johann felt the same warmth bloom in his chest as during his interview with the Captain. “Sounds perfect.”
Even if Johann didn’t get the job, he thought, maybe he was getting something out of all this after all.