Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Norton Campbell is not sentimental. Sentimentality is for the weak, the absent-minded, and the privileged. The ones who don’t have to worry about surviving until the next morning; the ones who have never gone a day without the comfort of their warm homes; the ones who live such easy lives that they don’t even know it.

Yes, Norton hates sentimental people, as he tells himself repeatedly; what’s the point in looking back when there’s so much more to gain by going forwards? Even here, in the manor- especially here- there is no room for such feelings, no room for sensibilities. Norton knows that the other residents, no matter how friendly they may seem, also hold darkness within them. Camaraderie is a ridiculous notion; why befriend people who could turn on you just as quickly as you might on them? Here, nothing and no one is predictable. And besides, Norton has learned long ago that nobody is to be trusted. The naivete of his younger years has been long beaten out of him, crushed to dust along with the last of his optimism. He is a shell of a man, and he expects no better from the others.

So why does he allow himself to lose his grasp on his own basic principles?

This one is different, he tells himself, over and over. He watches the animated light in a single silvery eye, the proud tilt of a noble head still retained through immeasurable suffering, and tells himself that Luca Balsa is different from the rest. He knows the man is not the murderer he’s made out to be, knows that Luca is better than many of the other residents of the manor who have committed actual crimes. And so foolishly, Norton allows himself to indulge in that which he loathes, because Luca Balsa is not a bad man, inside or outside- and what can Norton say? He’s always had an eye for pretty things.

And an eye indeed; Norton can’t count the number of times he’s caught himself watching Balsa from across the room or even the table at dinner, not-so-subtly eyeing the way those slender fingers curl around wires from a new gadget, the sharp glint of that fang under the light of the candelabras. Balsa never notices, of course; he’s always too busy speaking in hushed tones with Reznik or Valden or Kreiss, the lilt of his ridiculously posh accent (Norton still can’t for the life of him figure out what it is) barely discernible over the general hum of the dining hall.

While Norton would like to simply prop up his chin against the coarse fabric of his glove and stare to his heart’s content, he knows he can’t do such a thing in the presence of so many others. He’s already had several people ask him why he’s “staring at Mr. Balsa so,” and has had to reassure a few of them that no, he hasn’t had an argument with the inventor, he’s just spacing out. Conveniently in that direction.

Most of the time, they either accept it or take the hint and move on. Though... Norton can still feel Vera’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head now every time he looks towards Balsa, so he doesn’t do it as much these days. That woman is like a hawk, circling lower and lower as she looks for more gossip to share, and Norton doesn’t need her bad-mouthing him any more than she already does. He’s taken to watching Balsa more inconspicuously, glancing up through his lashes from time to time as he picks at his food. Such as right now.

Norton shoves his fork through the meat in front of him, idly twisting the utensil and poking the tines further down until they scrape the bottom of the plate. Balsa is currently speaking with Reznik at the opposite end of the table, showing her some sort of blueprints that Norton knows he wouldn’t even begin to understand, even if he could see that far.

He knows it’s odd of him to do this, perhaps borderline ominous. Norton can only imagine what the others might think of the dark, reserved Prospector staring at a man so different from himself. But he can’t help it. God knows he isn’t going to simply go up and talk to Balsa, like any other normal person might do. He already knows Balsa won’t want to exchange a word with someone like him- uneducated, flawed, sick. A real murderer. Besides, he isn't here to make connections. He's here for the money, and that's it. Material goods are all that matter to him.

He speaks with Kreiss, pops up an unwelcome voice at the back of Norton’s head, pointedly ignoring the latter part of his inner monologue. Yes, Andrew Kreiss- coarse, eccentric; he doesn’t understand why Balsa spends so much time with the gravekeeper.

That’s different, supplies Norton’s helpful mind. He’s odd, but at least he didn’t kill all of his friends and loved ones.

Shut up.

Norton curls his hand into a fist under the table, feeling his knuckles turn white. Suddenly he’s completely lost any appetite he might have had. He pushes the plate away from himself, looking away from Balsa’s gleaming gaze. Norton doesn’t deserve to look at him like this. He wants to say he does, but he knows he doesn’t.

Norton swallows hard, feeling his throat bob, because suddenly the hall is too loud, with too many people, and it’s difficult to breathe. He slumps back in his chair, tipping his hat forwards over his eyes so that nobody will be able to make out his expression. That helps a little. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest, heaving a sigh with his ragged lungs. Stupid, fucking stupid. Norton knows he can be charming when he wants to be, can summon the guise of a silver tongue and boastful confidence, but that couldn’t be farther from how he views himself. He simply doesn’t want to descend into a pathetic mess in front of the others, but deep down, he knows himself perfectly well.

Someone sits down in the chair next to him, making the wooden legs scrape against the floor obnoxiously. Norton refuses to look over, because he knows whoever it is won’t make him feel any better. He wants to be left alone.

“Pardon me? Mr. Campbell?”

That voice. Norton nearly sits up so fast that his hat slides off his head, but he catches himself at the last moment, instead peering over from under the heavy black brim. Grey eyes stare back at him, sharp under long lashes, and Norton has to fight the urge to look away.

Fuck, why is Balsa here now? Norton isn’t sure if this is the worst or best case scenario. He’s hardly ever actually spoken to the inventor before, too afraid of humiliating himself in front of the other by inadvertently displaying his lack of knowledge or refinement. Even now, he chooses not to say anything, making only a noncommittal hum in the back of his throat as acknowledgement.

Balsa peers a little closer, head tilting to the side like a cat. “I apologize, but I was wondering if I could speak with you?” He lowers his voice a little. “Perhaps privately?”

Norton hopes the dread that fills him at hearing those words doesn’t show on his face. He curls his fingers tight against his bicep, gaze sliding to the side for a moment before he reminds himself to look Balsa in the eyes. He can’t think of a single thing Balsa would want to speak to him about unless… yes, that must be it. What a fool Norton’s been. Of course Balsa would notice him staring; such a keen man wouldn’t miss that sort of blatant observation. Norton has successfully mortified himself in the inventor’s eyes without even having to open his mouth. Good job, Campbell. Excellent, really.

Balsa is still there. Waiting, Norton realizes, for a response. Well, it isn’t as if he can say no, is it? Perhaps he’ll be able to think up some story in time. Anything to avoid explaining the truth.

“Alright,” he says at last. He fights the habit to clear his throat as he turns away again, signifying that he wants to be left alone once again.

“I appreciate it, then. Please meet me in front of my room after supper.” Balsa sends him a last lingering glance before rising from his seat again to re-join Reznik. The two inventors converse in low voices- probably about him, Norton realizes with a flash of something like anger. He knows they’re justified to say whatever they like about him, given his behavior, but he despises it when people whisper about him like this. He’s had to go through enough of that in his life.

Norton stands up from his seat abruptly, attracting several surprised glances. He doesn’t pay them any mind, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he exits the hall without sending another glance back. He needs time to think away from prying eyes.

Norton ends up sitting on the bench in the garden, staring gloomily into the rows of tulips with his elbows propped on his knees until he hears a soft rapping sound at the door. He turns to see Emma standing there, hands clasped neatly in front of her. She waves to him, skipping over to join him on the bench. He tips his hat to her in return.

Emma is one of the less malicious people in the manor, from what Norton has seen. There's no doubt that she has her own significant problems, similar to everybody else, but at least she doesn't actively try to bring others down like Riley or Nair. She doesn't judge Norton either, treating him with the same enthusiasm as she does her closest companions, and he appreciates that, though it can get overbearing at times.

"Are you alright, Mr. Campbell?" Emma asks him as she swings her legs over the side of the bench, humming a slightly off-tune melody under her breath.

Norton turns to look at her, crooking a brow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

They both know what Emma means, but Norton is as stubborn as they get. The gardener shrugs, scratching behind her ear in thought. "You didn't seem to be very well when you left. Are you feeling sick?" She turns to look at him with those big green eyes. "Do you need to see Dr. Dyer? Here, let me see if you have a fever."

Emma takes off her glove and reaches out; Norton manages to dodge before she can press her palm to his forehead. "I'm fine," he assures her, "really. Just needed some air."

"Oh, I see." Emma doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press it, instead clapping her hands together as she rises from the bench. "Well, since you're here anyway, do you want to help me with trimming some of the shrubs? I told myself I'd do it tonight, I would, and I will!"

As tempting as it sounds- Norton would far prefer clipping bushes to facing Balsa- he can't go back on the word he's given to the inventor, so he shakes his head, sliding his thumbs under his suspenders. "I have to go meet Balsa. Said he wanted to talk to me about something after dinner."

"Oh?" Emma raises her brows curiously. "You'd better get going, then! A gentleman doesn't make his liege wait." She giggles, crossing the room to fetch her toolbox.

At first, Norton thinks she's mocking him; then he realizes how unlike Emma it is to do such a thing. He's at a loss as to what to say for a few seconds; then, when Emma sends him a pointed look, he gives up, standing with a groan and approaching the door once more.

"Good night, Mr. Campbell," Emma calls after him cheerfully as he steps back into the corridor outside.

"Night, Miss Woods." He nods to her politely, snapping his suspenders idly against his chest to keep his hands busy as he wanders towards Balsa's room. He knows very well where it is- situated right across from his own, between Valden's and Grantz's. As he comes to a halt in front of the door, he's glad that neither of the other two seem to be around right now. And Balsa himself isn't one to gossip, so at least this matter might stay between them.

Norton hesitates, digging the heel of his shoe into the ground as his fist hovers over the door. Should he knock? Has Balsa even returned from dinner yet? Does he have time to back out at the last moment? The iron ball settling quickly in his gut isn't doing much to help him with his decision.

It's decided for him when the door suddenly swings open in front of Norton before he can even touch it. Balsa hurries out, muttering under his breath as he stares down at a paper. He's so preoccupied that he doesn't even notice Norton is there until it's too late.

Norton steps back, but he isn't quick enough; Balsa collides with him straight-on, head knocking against his sternum, and Norton purses his lips with a bitten-off grunt as the inventor's metal collar digs into his ribs. Balsa starts to backpedal a second too late, and Norton reaches out on instinct to catch him before he can trip over himself.

A second passes; Norton becomes hyperaware of the fact that he is holding Balsa in his arms, warm squirming body cradled against his own and head resting against his chest, and other thoughts are soon to follow- thoughts that he instantly represses with a flush. He lets go of Balsa quickly, clearing his throat as he steps back.

Balsa squints up at him. Norton wonders if that's a hint of a rosy tint high on the inventor's cheeks, then decides he must be imagining it; the lighting is odd in this part of the manor.

"You alright?" he asks when the silence goes on a second too long for comfort. Balsa blinks once, twice, then seems to spring back into action, clutching his papers close as he lets out a little chuckle. Fuck, he has a nice laugh.

"Yes, I'm alright. I apologize, though. First I asked you to take the time to meet me, then I walked straight into you. I should have checked before stepping out so quickly. What about yourself?" Balsa reaches out to touch Norton's chest where his collar had dug into his ribs, and then he seems to realize what exactly he's doing, withdrawing his hand quickly before it could make contact with a slight cough.

"Uh," Norton says intelligently before he forces himself to get it together. "I'm fine, thank you."

Balsa's eyes crinkle up slightly at the edges- not a full smile, but a sort of crooked grin that makes his snaggletooth poke out a little bit. Norton resists the urge to reach out and touch it, run his finger down the sharp edge to rest on the other's cracked lower lip and-

Oh, fuck. Balsa's already opening the door to his room, glancing over to Norton with a raised brow. "Come inside. It'll be easier for us to speak in here."

Ah, right. Norton had almost forgotten why he'd been there. He tugs at the cuffs of his gloves behind his back, rocking back on the soles of his worn shoes for a second as he tries to think of a way to stall, but he can't think of anything except how pretty the man in front of him is.

Balsa sighs, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Norton's wrist gently. Norton jerks like he's been burned, embarrassingly unused to being touched, but Balsa doesn't let go or look at him strangely, only tugging him inside the room and reaching around him to shut the door. Shit, they're in his room. Norton is in Balsa's room. With Balsa.

Oblivious to Norton's inner torture, Balsa crosses the room to one of the worktables set up against the wall. Norton eyes his surroundings, impressed despite the fact that he doesn't know what half of these things are. There are gadgets everywhere, positioned in a way that makes it look like Balsa was trying to stay organized but gave up eventually. On the walls are plastered blueprints, some in frames and others torn at the edges. The worktables are scattered with tools, moving parts, and glowing objects. It's so very him.

Balsa still hasn't looked back at Norton, busy fumbling with some sort of blueprints at his table. Norton clears his throat, leaning back against the door as he tried his best to wait patiently.

"I apologize," Balsa calls back to him. For such an otherwise proud man, he sure seems to apologize a lot, doesn't he? "I'm sure it's here, somewhere... Just hold on for a few moments, please."

"What's there somewhere?" Norton cranes his neck, trying to see across the room, but his sight has never been the best, especially considering the fact that he now only has one eye that really works.

"Here!" Balsa pops up from beneath the table, holding another set of blueprints that look exactly the same as all the others in the room. He beckons Norton over with a crook of his finger; Norton watches the motion of his slender hand before stepping closer cautiously. He's confused, to say the least. Didn't Balsa bring him here in order to tell him to leave him be?

Balsa motions for Norton to come closer, closer, until Norton is hovering over the inventor's back. This close, he can smell a sort of metallic scent coming from the other, though it's faint and there have been clear attempts to cover it up. He peers over Balsa's shoulder, looking at the blueprints. As he'd expected, they don't look like anything but a bunch of words and pictures that make no sense, but Balsa looks so triumphant that Norton doesn't have it in him to tell the inventor that he doesn't know what the fuck this is supposed to be. Instead, he opts for a polite nod, waiting for Balsa to elaborate.

"This," Balsa starts, jabbing a finger at the blueprints a bit too hard, "is something I've been working on for months, and I think I've finally perfected it. It's... a new type of communicator, I suppose you could say."

"But we already have communicators," Norton points out, still unsure of what he has to do with this.

"We do," Balsa agrees, "but you know that they only provide limited communication. We have the same... what, ten or so messages that the owner of the manor has provided us with. But this-" he nods back towards the blueprint. "This is a different type, where we'll be able to speak into it and hear each other in real time."

Norton looks a little closer at the pictures on the page. He can make out something like a coil of wire, pointing towards a small rectangle-shaped device that would fit easily in a pocket. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because..." Balsa sucks in a breath through his teeth, then whistles it back out again. "I was wondering! If I could perhaps use- no, borrow- one of your magnets. For... ah, experiments."

"Experiments?" Norton squints at him, caught off guard by the unexpected direction this conversation has taken.

"Yes. You see, this is based off of electromagnetism, which is intended to be more mutable- it's easier to change the strength of the current, that is- than permanent magnets such as your own. But I'd like to borrow one of yours for tests where I compare the two before I finalize the device and show it to the others. And Tracy agreed with me."

Tracy? That would explain why Balsa and Reznik were speaking earlier after Balsa approached him, then. It takes a weight off of Norton's shoulders to know they weren't speaking badly about him, at least.

Luca turns, pressing his back up against the table so that he's facing Norton. "Would that be alright with you, Mr. Campbell?"

The way his name rolls off of Balsa's poised tongue sends a shiver down the lower part of Norton's spine, but he keeps his face as impassive as ever. "Not going to break it if I say yes, are you?"

"Do you even have to ask? I wouldn't dream of it." Luca presses a hand to his own chest, faking a wounded expression. Norton bites back a smile, pressing his lips into a thin line as he reaches for his back pocket where he keeps the magnets. His fingers find the curved edge of one, and he draws it out, turning it over in his hands as he holds it out to Balsa.

When Balsa takes it, their gloved fingers brush for the quickest of seconds, and Norton feels a sort of light shock travel up his arm, raising the hairs. Balsa inspects the magnet, nodding in satisfaction after a few seconds and placing it down on top of his blueprints. "Thank you, Mr. Campbell. I'll be sure to return it to you as soon as possible."

"... Mhm." Norton's too distracted by how close they still are to really hear what Balsa's saying. As the inventor speaks, Norton can feel his breath against his skin, feel the warmth emanating from the other's body. He finds that the curve of Balsa's lips is much more fascinating than it should be, and finds himself nibbling at the inside of his own. A grey eye slowly travels down to meet a brown one, and those lips part ever so slightly. Norton finds himself inching forward, and Balsa moves in by the slightest amount to meet him.

He's so close. So close. Their lips are nearly brushing. Just a little more...

The door to the room swings wide open. Norton scrambles backwards, face bright red as he crashes into another work table. Balsa isn't much better off, jaw dropping comically like a fish as he starts to splutter and hunch over his blueprints like he's been focused on them the whole time. "Ah! Tracy, what brings you here?" he says, too loud and too rushed to not be suspicious.

Tracy eyes them both critically from where she's standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. For such a small woman, she can certainly be intimidating when she wants to be. Norton feels shame bloom across his cheeks as she raises a brow at him, stepping closer before redirecting her attention to the brunette. "Oh! Just wanted to discuss something with you quickly, Luca. It's about my robot. Sorry if this is a bad time, though. I can come back later if you'd like."

"Right! Right, of course." Balsa clears his throat several times, fingers tapping aimlessly across the surface of his worktable. "Ah, of course, no, I'll be with you right away. Nor- Mr. Campbell, I really will be sure to return this magnet as soon as I can, alright?"

Norton is already retreating, hat tipped down over his eyes as he makes his way back towards the door, still open from when Tracy had entered. "Right," he agrees under his breath, so quietly that he doubts Balsa even hears. He doesn't relax until he steps out into the corridor and shuts the door behind him, and even then, he can feel his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage uncomfortably quickly.

What the hell was that?

Norton fights the urge to tear his hat off and run his hands through his hair until it's tousled beyond saving, instead shoving his hands into the pockets of his creased trousers and crossing the short distance to his own room. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was Balsa thinking? Or did he misread the situation entirely?

Norton throws himself down onto his bed, not even bothering to kick his boots off as he settles down with a heavy exhale. He takes his hat off at last and sets it down on his chest, running his fingers over the smooth brim. If it hadn't been for Tracy coming in right then, he... doesn't know what might have happened, and that's what's weighing on him most. Would Luca have let Norton kiss him, move him back against the table until there wasn't an inch left between them? Or would he have turned away in disgust, thrown Norton out of the room?

Norton is so used to despising himself, to bringing himself down, that he's almost inclined to think the latter, but he knows it isn't true. For one thing, it's simply not in line with Luca's character to behave in such a fashion. But aside from that, Norton swears he hadn't imagined the way Luca's head tilted up towards his own, ever-so-slight though the motion was.

Norton sits back up to toe his boots off and shoves them aside to the foot of the bed before he rolls over onto his side, tucking his knees towards his chest. He thinks about how Luca is just across the hall even now, but he may just as well be on the moon; Norton is too much of a coward to face the inventor himself. Yes, he is a coward, hidden away under the walls of bravado and roughness. Even Helena- no, especially her, young and blind and frail as she is, is so much braver than him. It's shameful.

Norton thinks about the names he's been called before, in the past. Men like him aren't supposed to be cowards, aren't supposed to run away or show weakness. And he doesn't, he doesn't because he can't afford to, but at the same time he does. It's exhausting.

He can still feel Luca's hand on his wrist, fingers brushing his own. Then he wonders why he's suddenly started to think of him as Luca rather than Balsa. Norton scoffs under his breath, burying his face into his pillow. Alone in his bed, surrounded by nothing but himself, he feels ridiculously small. He wants to go back to Luca, to talk to him again without Tracy around, but he knows he wouldn't even if he could. He's had a lot of matches today, and he's tired. Norton closes his eyes.

It's a problem for him to deal with the next day.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Norton pointedly refuses to meet the gazes of either Luca or Tracy, despite the fact that they're both sitting directly across from him at breakfast. He isn't sure whose genius idea that seating arrangement was, but he doesn't care; he finishes his meal in sullen silence before retreating to his room once more.

Today, he doesn't have any matches until the afternoon, which unfortunately gives him plenty of time to think and reflect. Norton sits down at his desk, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Even the multitude of shining gems and objects organized in categories across the carved surface aren't enough to lift his spirits.

Norton knows he can't avoid Luca forever, and he doesn't want to either. But he's never been particularly good at communicating, particularly about his genuine feelings. He's much more about actions, getting things done efficiently and persisting till the end. But in the face of such a daunting task, his determination crumbles and wilts. What is he supposed to tell Luca? That he admires him? No, that isn't even right. Thinks he's pretty? Intelligent? Fascinating?

Norton picks up a shard of amber from his desk, turning it over in his hands glumly and rubbing a thumb over the polished surface. If he doesn't even know how to put his feelings into words, how will he be able to tell the other? Does he even want to tell him? With a moment of sharp clarity, Norton realizes he's frightened- frightened of being vulnerable and frightened of being used.

He licks his lips, setting the amber back down and tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. He shouldn't have attempted to pull whatever that was in Luca's room; then he wouldn't have to deal with this at all.

The abrupt knock that comes on his door in the middle of his gloomy self-reflection session startles Norton so much that he spins in his seat, half-rising. When the knock comes the second time, he purses his lips and shakes his head, calling out a quiet, "Who's there?"

"It's me," comes the prompt answer. With a sinking sensation, Norton quickly pairs the voice with the face and name. Now that he's said something, she'll know he's here, and Norton knows she isn't one to give up easily. Reluctantly, he steps over to the door, opening it about halfway to meet Tracy's glittering eyes.

"Something I can do for you?" he presses when she doesn't say anything, only placing a hand on her hip.

"Not even going to invite me inside?" she chides, shaking her head. "You shouldn't make a lady stand around out here."

"You're hardly a lady," Norton points out rather bluntly.

"True." Tracy grins, sharp and mischievous. "But I really think we'd better have a little talk." She leans in, placing a conspiratorial hand to her mouth. "Away from prying ears, if you get my meaning."

Norton stares at her for several more seconds, attempting to intimidate her into leaving, but she meets his gaze evenly with just as much challenge. In the end, he sighs, stepping back and allowing her to enter. Tracy steps inside, curious eyes scouring the interior of the room; Norton places himself in front of her almost subconsciously, warning her not to look too much. He just wants her to say whatever it is and get out, especially since he's sure he knows exactly why she's here.

"So," Tracy begins, clapping her hands together as she looks back towards him. "I believe you know what this is about."

The way she exactly echoes his thoughts makes Norton scoff, crossing his arms. "And if I do?"

Tracy peers all the way up at him, one eye squinting slightly. "And... well, let's get to the point, shall we?" She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I'm here to tell you that you're hopeless, really. Both of you."

Hopeless? Both? Norton isn't sure which point to question first, so he settles for simply staring at her. Tracy's only too happy to elaborate when he doesn't respond.

"There's no point in hiding it, Mr. Campbell." She pokes him lightly in the chest in an accusatory fashion. "Don't think everyone doesn't notice the way you look at Luca every time you see him."

Norton starts to protest, but Tracy cuts him off.

"I'm here because it's clear that without intervention, you might both carry on like this for eternity." The mechanic rises up on her tiptoes, patting him on the shoulder next as some sort of vaguely comforting gesture.

"Why?" is the first thing that Norton thinks to say. Why is she butting into his business, and why does she care? Simply because she's friends with Luca? Or does she have some ulterior motive at hand? It's hard to imagine the sprightly little mechanic with any sort of malicious plot, though, especially involving the two of them, so Norton dismisses that idea.

"Do you have to ask?" Tracy raises a brow. "It's ridiculous watching you two stare after each other all day long while I'm simply trying to have a meal. And yesterday night was the last straw." She tilts her head to the side. "You fancy him, and he fancies you. Why dance around it anymore?"

"He...?" Fancies Norton? An odd way of putting it, but that aside, Norton feels like his heart has become a lot lighter. Then he catches himself before he can become too carried away. Don't celebrate until the fish is in the net.

"This is just a bit of... friendly advice, of course." Tracy nods decisively. "But I'll just say that he's been moping about ever since last night. I'd have a chat with him sooner rather than later if I were you." She steps back towards the door, sending him a wave without looking back; then she's gone as quickly as she'd appeared. Norton is left to sit back down and place a hand over his mouth in thought, mulling over her words.

Tracy is one of the manor residents who's closest with Luca, so of course she would know the inventor's true feelings. But Norton is still hesitant. Her sudden entrance has unnerved him. What if Tracy is trying to trick him, cause him to make a fool of himself? He knows that isn't something she would do, but the trepidation is still there, deep and heavy within his gut.

Norton can't help but laugh at how ridiculous he's being. They're in a death game with supernatural beings, and he's worrying about whether he should confess to the object of his admiration like an adolescent girl. The worst that could happen is that Luca will never want to speak to him again, but at the end of the day, why should that matter? Norton glances over the glimmering array on his desk once more to remind himself why he's really here. The prize only, everyone else be damned.

For some reason, something in him feels like that isn't entirely true, but Norton shakes it off. It's always been his life goal to become rich and strike gold- figurative and literal- and now he has it in the palm of his hand. Connections and "friendships" and relationships will only get in the way here. He can't afford to become attached to anyone, certainly can't afford to go trusting anyone.

So? Are you going to keep being a coward? pipes up a little voice in the back of Norton's brain.

I'm not a coward, he argues. I'm looking out for myself, as I should be. As I always have.

Are you?

Are you?

Norton lets out a groan, standing abruptly. Fine. What is he afraid of? There's nothing to be afraid of. He isn't afraid of anything. He tells himself that throughout the whole walk to the door, across the corridor, and then he's standing in front of Luca's door and suddenly, he's very afraid.

Norton swallows, looking left and then right as if he's afraid that someone will catch him in the act of committing a crime. He almost wants to wait for Luca to come out as he had the night before so that he doesn't have to initiate anything, but that's exactly the kind of behavior he's attempting to deny is in his nature. So instead, he lifts his fist and knocks roughly before he can lose his willpower.

A few minutes pass. Norton considers either leaving or knocking again, and is trying to decide which one he'll regret most when the wood swings back by just a crack. Grey eyes peer back at Norton inquisitively, before the door opens a bit wider. "Oh, Mr. Campbell!" Luca greets, seeming painfully oblivious. "What can I do for you?"

Norton picks at a fraying edge of his worn button-down, hesitating for a second more. However, as Luca shifts, starting to look unsure, Norton pulls himself back together, steeling his resolve at last. "Can we talk?"

"About-?" Luca starts before cutting himself off, stepping aside and dipping his head politely. "Yes, of course. Come in."

The way Luca's speaking to him, with that same ridiculous poise and politeness as always, makes Norton feel uneasy. It's as if yesterday's events had ever taken place. But as he looks a little closer, he can see the way that Luca fidgets with his hands behind his back, the way his throat bobs a bit too hard for it to be normal. It looks like he isn't the only one here putting on a front.

Luca steps behind him to close the door. "Alright- now..." He mutters under his breath to himself for a second before raising his voice again to address Norton. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"...." Norton feels his brain go blank. He grasps for anything, remembering the way Tracy had patted him confidently on the shoulder. Far easier said than done. He screws his eyes shut for a beat, reaching up to remove his hat and hold it between his hands a bit awkwardly.

"I wanted- I mean-" Internally, Norton curses himself sharply as his tongue falters around the words and he ends up stuttering. The more flustered he gets, the more he stumbles over syllables; it's something he's always struggled with, especially since the accident, but he's come to do a decent job of covering it up. Thankfully, Luca doesn't laugh at him or even comment on the slip-up at all, simply waiting patiently for him to gather himself.

Norton takes a quick breath, trying again. "Reznik came to see me."

Oh fuck, that isn't what he meant to say either. Now Luca will think he can't do anything without help.

"Oh?" A sudden guarded expression crosses Luca's face, gaze narrowing ever so slightly. "And what did she have to say?" There's a tiny note of warning in the undercurrents of his tone.

Norton hesitates. "That she's sick of watching... us." At least it's a bit easier this way. If things go wrong, he can blame Tracy and act as if he really wasn't on board with the whole idea.

Luca raises a brow. "Sick of what part of watching us?"

Vaguely, Norton wonders if Luca is making this difficult on purpose. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath as he looks to the side. "I just wanted to talk to you." He said that already, but he doesn't know what else to say.

Luca sighs; when Norton looks back at him, the inventor's gaze is dark, cast towards the ground. "I understand perfectly, Mr. Campbell. No need to worry."

Norton freezes. "You-?"

Luca looks up at him, attempting a smile. "I'll not bother you for any longer, if that's what you'd like. I do apologize if I made you uncomfortable, especially yesterday." He steps back.

Norton panics, because that isn't what's happening at all. His thoughts are confused right now, swirling in his head, but he knows one thing, and it's that Luca isn't bothering him at all, never has. Besides, Norton had been the one who initiated the scene the day before. So impulsively, he reaches out, taking Luca's hand in his own before the inventor can retreat too far.

Luca's eyes flash up to his with poorly veiled surprise, and Norton feels a tiny spark travel from the other's fingertips to his own, but he pays it no mind, instead stepping closer. "What do you mean by all that?" he asks, brow drawn low.

"Well-" Luca flushes, laughing nervously as he shifts. "I meant- surely you've come here because Tracy told you that I... admire you greatly? And you'd like for me to stop?"

Norton stares at him, feeling heat flood his own cheeks. "Admire me..?" he echoes stupidly.

Luca's face is as red as a tomato, but he continues on with remarkable resilience as if nothing is wrong. "Yes! You see, I've always thought you were an interesting person, ever since I first arrived here at the manor. I've always wanted to know more about you, but I also enjoy you for who you are. And.." Luca clears his throat. "Anyhow, you don't need to worry about it any longer. I'll let you be, and-"

Before he can finish, Norton moves in closer, cupping Luca's cheek in the palm of his hand. The inventor stutters to a halt as Norton leans down, closing his eyes.

When their lips meet, it's messy and uncoordinated; Norton has barely kissed, even before the manor, and Luca has lost all memory of his own experiences, but it gets the message across as Norton had hoped it would. He pulls back, still slightly unsure despite the full confession he'd received, and scans Luca's face nervously.

Luca reaches up to brush his fingers across his parted lips, looking up at Norton with wide eyes. Then his hands are on Norton's shoulders and he's kissing him again, snaggletooth digging into his lip as he backs him up against the door with surprising vigor. When they separate, they're panting for air, blushes still adorning their cheeks with a rosy hue.

Luca rests his head against Norton's shoulder, and Norton lets him, leaning his own head back against the door as he catches his breath. The feeling of another body against is own is odd, but right now, it's making him feel happier than he has in a long time, so he tells himself that it's alright, this is okay. As he wraps his arms tentatively around Luca's waist, his eyes fall on the blueprints scattered across the table that Luca had shown him yesterday, and a sudden thought occurs to him.

"You didn't even need that magnet yesterday, did you?"

Luca starts, looking up at him with a surprised and then sheepish expression. "I... No. No, I didn't. I've already mostly completed the invention, with no need for tests. I suppose it was easy to see through," he admits, reaching into his back pocket and producing said magnet to hand back to Norton. "I was simply trying to think of a way to speak with you more."

"You can do that all you want," Norton mumbles with a rough laugh, all restraint thrown out the window by now as he presses on boldly. "I like the sound of your voice."

"Is that so?" Luca peers up at him deviously. "Then I'll speak to you all you like. For now, though..." He squints at a clock hanging on the wall beside them. "I believe you have a match to get to, Mr. Campbell." He reaches around Norton to open the door for him, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth before ushering him out.

"I'll see you after?" Norton says, half-question and half-statement as he gazes at Luca through the doorway.

"Of course. I'll be waiting." Luca grins that stupid grin of his, sharp tooth poking out at an angle. "Good luck."

Then the door is closed, and Norton is left standing in the hallway once more. He feels... he doesn't know. Happy? Lighter? Excited? As he touches the spot where Luca had last kissed him, he fights back the lazy smile that threatens to creep onto his lips. Perhaps a combination of all three, then. It feels almost too good to be true, and Norton is afraid that something will go wrong, just like it always does. But for now, he allows himself to bask in it, permits himself a luxury just for once. He allows himself to look forward to something, a tangible landmark lying just ahead. It's new, unfamiliar- but perhaps that's what he needs.

After all, the feeling of Luca's lips on his is quite nearly some sort of prize in itself.