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Mr. Inference’s curiosities were never satiated so easily. Not in their first meeting, nor with the many glances that had distracted him all throughout his interviews. That cheap grin that fit only an actor… and, perhaps a man from Inference’s past distracted him. It was curious. They looked nothing alike yet rang of similarities. If he allowed himself to think upon the man's face any longer, he may begin to wander.
The war had not been kind to Inference. It had left him retired to ‘corporate offices’, with a faulty knee, and scars both physical and mental. He had seen many men slaughtered between his friends and his enemies in the war. He and that man were among the few to be given the privilege to retire, rather than lay their lives down. A freak accident, he had heard. A bombing, an explosion? Gossip spread about how an entire platoon of men had died. Except him. Norton. He had refused to see him then, claiming he was too marred, too delirious, that he would return to the war after he was better. Inference believed that he had died to his wounds with the way many spoke about him.
One would not expect him to be a theatre owner and Inference would not allow himself the hope that it could be. There were far too many fond memories. Too much longing. Depraved mourning that had possessed him for the months he had been gone from the battlefield.
Why had he forced himself to dinner when he felt this storming swirl of emotions? Perhaps he was not as grand of a detective as he believed. Too emotional, too heated, still that same impulsive child on the military front lines.
The drawl and mystery were too much to bear- he needed to know who he was. Ronald of Ness. What was his name? His past? Could he allow himself to hope?
“Do not look so lost in thought when such a glorious dinner has been prepared for us, Mr. Inference.” That thick accent writhed into his ears, causing him to start from his thoughts.
“Glorious company as well. Thank you for joining me, Ronald.” It was the detective's finest, a high recommendation from White. It was neither the downtown bars Ronald frequented, nor the stuffy apartments Inference drank heavy bourbon in. White had truly outdone himself in reserving their seat. It was tucked just barely off the room, draped in simple whites, and a clash of velvet red wrapped the sides to block off any untoward eyes. A small, but rather gaudy, chandelier hung as their sole lights. Inferences supposed it make Ronald gleam, just as the stage lights would. They were far less harsh, however, neither casting shadows nor crude white lights along his face. He could enjoy his presence as it was.
He was getting distracted again. This man was far too enrapturing for his own good.
“You looked rather lost for a moment, so I took the liberty of ordering our drinks. You look the kind to force yourself to drink beer so I ordered you a white russian. If you don’t like it…I suppose we’ll just have to stay for more than one round.” His eyes carried a curious fire about them, as if each of his teasing words bordered on snapping. Inference could not stop himself from averting his eyes like he was an embarrassed guest.
“Thank you. The case has kept me busy most nights, my mind wonders the second I find comfort.” Ronald had not been ruled out from said investigation, he reminded himself. Yet, a gut feeling told him it was not the man. Was that gut feeling his usual instinct or something else entirely? Well, he certainly could not answer. “I had hoped I would not bore you so much you only wished to stay for one round of drinks. “
“I fear you are the opposite of a boring man, Mr. Inference.”
“The same could be said for you, Ronald of Ness. Did you truly come from the town of Ness or is it merely an adoring stage name?” He had interrupted, but discoveries were to be made.
Ronald would not reward his impatience, rather happily smiling as their waiter tended to whatever drinks he had previously ordered. Inference supposed he should have been able to know drinks by name, but the only thing he recognized was the cherry on the inside of Ronald’s glass hinting he was drinking vodka. Which, he was happily sipping on leaving Inference to wait further.
The second he yielded to the man's whims and lifted his own drink to his lips - which he found quite delightful, and was now even more curious how Ronald had known his tastes - the man graced him with his words. “A stage name. I have lived in far too many cities to let one claim its ownership over me. Lest they get the wrong idea and try to demand money from me, or worse, be my representative.”
“So, you travel often and you abhor others stealing your image? We have more in common by the second.”
Ronald spoke over the rim of his drink now, cherry caught in between his teeth. "I suppose we do, detective. A few more drinks and perhaps we will know just how many.”
“Perhaps- would it be stranger if I found you familiar, Ronald? Before the drinks. Before yesterday. Before the meetings-”
“I get it Inference. You don’t need to ramble.” And oh, how that stung, but the ashamed face Ronald was making stung even worse for some off reason. Eyebrows twisted and fingers harsh around his glass, he stared at neither Inference nor at anything in particular. “There was a time before I was an actor. A time I could be far too glad to forget. To move on from.” He cast that wayward glance and Inference understood; the pain, the anguish, he could read it in a single glimpse.
“You…were something I wished to move on from- do not interrupt me, for only a moment, do not speak Inference. I should not have amused you. You are not him. I am not him, I’m not the same as I was all those years ago.” Ronald let out a sigh that felt painful, his fingers tracing over the scars adorning his skin. “I knew you would come to the theatre. They spoke of you weeks before you arrived. The famed detective, your aspiring apprentices, your fans.”
“We never would have made it outside those barracks, Naib.” It was so tender Inference ached, ached to hit the man for not believing, or ached to prove him wrong, or to leave the town entirely and not to have hurt him this way. “Never then. Never now. Not with our statuses.”
“Is that what holds you back? I will confess that I have changed. We all do once the war ends. Do not plea that you have stayed the same.” Inference’s fingers sunk into the booth below him, fiery gaze cast upon his ex-partner who was still just as good at building walls as he had been twenty years ago. “If that is all that holds you back from me - from us, if I dare say it - I can find a way.”
“I won’t live in the shadows.”
“But do you loathe me, Norton? Can you live without my presence? You do not know how you have haunted me for the last several years.”
He surged forward at such, glasses rolling about the table, while Inference’s shirt collar was grabbed and the man himself was yanked upwards. Pressing up on his tiptoes, he banged their foreheads together, happily meeting that rageful look he was all too familiar with.
“Do not make empty remarks. You visit town, you get enamored by your past, by me, and you will leave me as soon as you came. You are a detective yet you cannot even understand yourself.”
“Then let me stay! Do not be so hasty to deny me. Do I truly need to spell out what I am trying to tell you?”
Ronald’s wrath wavered for a moment, sorrow threatening to smother it. His needs and his truths were crashing around his head.
“I love you, Norton. Just as I did all those years ago.”
Fingers finally unclenching, he let out an aggrieved breath, tears threatening to well up in his eyes once more.
“Will you stay after the case is over? Will you prove it?”
“I’ll do so gladly if that is what it takes.”
They had caused quite a commotion with all their shouting, even despite being in a back corner. Curious eyes and gossiping whispers followed them as they quickly made their way to the door. Inference made the mental note to come back and tip their waiter, yet he was far too focused on the way Ronald’s hand was intertwining with his. They were just as calloused as they were when he had last touched them, though he could tell further care was put into them now. No doubt spoiled by the luxuries the theatre could provide him.
“I think we have more to discuss.” Torn between sounding flirty and too emotional, Ronald simply continued to walk. He felt raw. Too many memories and surprises in one day. “You’ll join me for dinner.”
Inference lept up to his gait, his cane clicking against the now familiar tiles as they approached the theatre.
“Tomorrow too, I hope?” Only a small huff was received, and a small squeeze of his fingers.
Their second meeting had been an identity revealed, and their mutual pasts sparked. He did not know how things would go, but he could tell that a part of Ronald still loved him. It was covered by insecurity and unrest, yet it existed.
It existed in the sole fact that he adoringly held his hand and the fact Inference returned its hold.