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Griss and Gregory can hardly be thought of as friendly with one another. Louis does his best to mediate, and Griss will usually behave in front of him, but nothing can truly suppress the complicated feelings they have about each other. As far as Gregory understands, Griss feels threatened and affronted just by him existing, by being "the one everyone prefers," no matter how much he insists he doesn't care what others think of him. He hates that Gregory is there to compare him to at all, hates that there exists a more palatable "version" of himself.
For Gregory, he can say out loud as much as he likes that the reason he detests Griss is simply because of the atrocities he's taken part in, especially after hearing the Divine One's account of alternate timelines where things had gotten far worse. His terribly violent tendencies aside, his attitude about it makes his crimes feel far worse.
"Yeah, so? What are you gonna do about it?"
He's completely, infuriatingly unrepentant. If anyone shows weakness in front of him, he'll dive in with a proverbial knife to pry the wound open. Any attempts to argue with him only result in Griss laughing in their face and openly provoking them to fight him. Everyone in the Divine One's army is extremely lucky that Louis managed to get Griss on a leash, or Gregory is sure infighting would have sent the Somniel crashing down to Elyos during the Divine One's sudden absence-- that is, the time spent meeting Nel and her Four Winds, Gregory included. Rafal, her brother, is an excellent example of someone who properly wishes to repent, even if his attitude is still frightening.
If Griss weren't a worshipper of Rafal's father, he certainly would have confronted him by now, would have told him his resolve is limp and he'll remain a pathetic weakling forever so long as he rejects Sombron's will. Gregory already knows Griss wants to say these things, sees the way he looks at Rafal from afar, has heard him lament Veyle's gentle nature, but he must have too much respect for Fell Dragons as a whole to say a word against him. That, and Rafal wouldn't be above killing him for his insolence, reasoning that if Griss is more interested in picking fights with his allies than contributing to their cause, he may as well be done away with. He's eager and more than ready to get his hands dirty on others' behalves at this point, determined to take on the burden of sin to protect others from bearing it. Griss doesn't know Rafal nearly well enough to understand that, but maybe he does have some self-preservation instinct to have sensed as much.
All in all, Gregory is far from alone in finding Griss difficult to be around. However... only to himself, Gregory can admit that his disdain for Griss has little to do with what he's done. No, he could have stayed quietly within the church, could have done nothing but lied still in bloody, torturous bliss all day every day, could have been nothing but a helpless victim, and Gregory knows he would still hate him. He hates Griss because he knows he's looking in a mirror, knows that's exactly what he would have become if his escape attempt had failed, or if he couldn't muster the courage to try to run in the first place.
Even now, the church's attempts to indoctrinate him sit nestled in the space they'd carved out for themselves in his brain. He fears pain to an uncommon degree not purely because it hurts, but because he's terrified that he'll reach the level of understanding that Griss exists at. Gregory lives in constant fear that his mind will one day suddenly flip and slip away from him, that he'll suffer a wound that he realizes he enjoys, that watching his own blood ooze out of him to pool on the ground fills him with ecstasy, and for that to become the meaning of his life. He still can't help seeing his own suffering as something fundamentally good, can't help the wretched, nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him he's committing a sin by avoiding pain, by placing his safety and comfort above a proper demonstration of his devotion-- and to a deity he doesn't even worship. The best he can do is save his suffering for those who deserve it, to place his body between someone he cares about and whatever would harm them. His cold sweat and his gritted teeth when he does so are not out of fear for his own life, but something far worse that he couldn't possibly articulate to anyone.
That is, the only person in the world who would understand is Griss. Even then, he would mock Gregory for not simply giving in and joining him, so why bother talking to him about it at all? He doesn't need sympathy, anyway. Everyone has strange things going on in their heads that they can't talk to anyone about without sounding completely insane, he's sure. If everyone else can deal with it just fine, then why can't he?
Every time he sees Griss together with Louis, he recalls a short interaction the three of them had. Griss had quite purposefully bumped Gregory as he passed by, finding a sick amusement in the way he flinched for it.
"Pansy," he'd snickered as he continued about his way.
Louis lingered for a moment, smiling sweetly at Gregory as he apologized to him, seeing as Griss would never do so himself.
"Though he didn't exactly mean it kindly... it is quite a beautiful flower, after all," he'd added.
Louis is unbelievably kind and patient, yet somehow strong enough to bring Griss to heel. If he were merely threatening him to behave, that would be easy to understand. That was likely Zephia's method before he decided to acknowledge her as his master, hound that he is. As far as Gregory can tell, she never needs to threaten him, he simply obeys without question, always on the same wavelength as her.
Louis, however... Louis doesn't give Griss orders, doesn't tug the leash for his obedience. He sits Griss down with him for tea, spoonfeeds him sweets off his plate just for him to try them; he accomplishes all sorts of bizarrely innocent things with Griss, and Gregory doesn't know how or why. The way Griss speaks to others differs greatly depending on whether or not Louis is present. Is he punishing Griss behind closed doors, merely putting up a front of gentle kindness in public? Griss has to be terrified of him to allow himself to be corralled like that.
Now is one of those times that the influence Louis has on Griss is made extremely apparent. The Divine One's army is simply too large to be dragging every member along at all times. Louis and Griss are rarely separated, but today is an exception. Griss is normally so restrained in Louis's presence that he doesn't bother speaking to Gregory at all, seeing as he won't be able to speak his mind.
Today, Louis isn't here, and so Griss approaches him.
"C'mere," he says, far less provocative than usual, "I wanna show you something."
"Where?" Gregory asks, suspicious. He isn't nearly curious enough to just follow Griss because he asked him to.
"My room. Or yours, doesn't matter to me. Actually, let's do yours so you have your stuff," he answers, only succeeding in raising more questions.
Gregory crosses his arms.
"I'm not letting you into my room, Griss," he huffs. "What are you trying to do?"
"Look, I'm gonna do you a favor, and then you'll do one back for me. That's fair, right?"
"I'm not going to hurt you, Griss."
He rolls his eyes with a scoff.
"Not that kind of favor, I've got Louis for that," he clarifies. "We're gonna teach each other, okay? You know something I don't, and I bet I know something you don't, you squeamish prick."
What in the world is he talking about?
"And you just went ahead and decided on this without me? Whatever you're trying to teach me, I'm not interested in learning."
"Oh, so you're saying you'll do me a favor for nothing in return, is that it? Get real."
Gregory stares him down, starting to grow genuinely curious despite himself. Does he need help that badly?
"You can't just wait for Louis to get back?" he asks mildly.
"He's the damn point. Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Help you with what?"
Griss steps away and scratches the back of his head. He sighs, sounding like he's about to speak, but hesitates and turns his back to Gregory instead. What is he acting so awkward for?
"Griss... do you genuinely need my help with something?" Gregory asks him, surprised. "Like... me? Seriously?"
"Oh, shut up, you idiot. I kinda want to learn how to sew, that's all. Not a big deal."
Gregory genuinely doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even register the insult enough to want to rebuke it. Griss actually wants something that isn't violent? He wants to learn a skill that can't be applied to battle or torture? Maybe Louis has a lasting effect on Griss, regardless of whether he's around or not...
"And you say this is for Louis..? Wait, what were you planning on teaching me in return? This is you we're talking about, after all..." Gregory grimaces, bracing himself to hear something awful.
Griss shrugs, turning back around to face Gregory again.
"Well, you sew clothes and I sew skin. I was gonna show you how to do stitches in case you ever need 'em," he says, not meeting Gregory's eyes.
It's true that healing magic can only accomplish so much, and it's always possible for a healer to be silenced or disarmed. Gregory had suffered plenty before he'd mastered healing magic, and especially during the long stretch of time where he hadn't been able to get a hold of a new staff once the magic ran out of the one he'd stolen from the church. He'd never needed stitches, per se, but a similar situation could always arise wherein someone does need them...
A bit reluctant, but choosing to be optimistic, Gregory nods resolutely.
"Okay," he agrees, noting that Griss actually looks surprised. "But just know that if you try anything funny, I'll make sure Louis knows."
"What, so he can punish me? Oh no, anything but that! Go ahead, pansy, tell him anything you want," Griss scoffs with a cocky grin.
"... Actually, I just realized this doesn't make sense..."
"Huh? What doesn't?"
"My first instinct was to assume Louis kept you in line by punishing you, but... well, you love being punished. So what's to stop you from just acting out in front of him so you'll be punished even more? Why do you behave when he's around?"
Griss huffs, eyes averted, but there's something almost... fond about the gesture. Or, defanged, at least.
"So I'm obedient, so what? Makes me a good little servant. Just ask Zephia."
He's obedient, is he? Gregory wonders if that's also a result of his indoctrination, or if they're both just naturally loyal to the core. It's hard to tell, given Griss's bizarre nature.
"Come to think of it, do you ever do anything you want to, Griss?" Gregory realizes.
"... What's that supposed to mean?"
"You want to suffer because you were taught to, which is essentially just because Sombron wants you to. So when you're not seeking pain for his sake, you follow either Zephia or Louis around and do whatever they tell you to. Have you ever made a single decision on your own?"
"The fuck are you playing at, nitwit? Right now, what I really want is to kick the shit out of you 'til you curl up and cry. Want me to do that?"
"Don't threaten me, I'm genuinely asking!"
"You're pissing me off is what you're doing!" Griss snaps, not at all missing the way Gregory flinches. "Even when I try my damnedest to play nice, you wanna act like you're all high and fucking mighty. I really feel like I'm gonna hurl just looking at you, you know. You're supposed to be me! How could you have turned out so wrong?"
"Trust me, you're the one who turned out wrong," Gregory scoffs. "If I were actually trying to insult you, I wouldn't do it by just asking you a simple question!"
"Here, lemme ask you one back: anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?"
"You're just being childish now. You didn't even answer my question!"
"I mean it. If you weren't so fucking coddled, you wouldn't act like this. Someone ought to have hurt you to set you straight by now. Want me to do it?"
"Stop threatening me and answer the question, Griss."
"I'll threaten you as much as I want, you stupid defect! You're me, why shouldn't I just do whatever I want to you?"
"Because I'm clearly not you, or you wouldn't hate me so much! You're way too satisfied with yourself for that!"
"You're not right in the fucking head, and that's the only reason you're not just like me."
"You're the one who's not right in the head, you twisted murderer!"
Griss laughs, like the accusation doesn't bother him in the slightest. Gregory knows it truly doesn't.
"Aw, is that the best you've got? You look so pissed off at me, but all you can do is state a couple facts? Is your next insult gonna be about how the sky's blue?"
Well, he likes pain and suffering, doesn't he? Loves it more than anything in the world? Why shouldn't Gregory resort to low blows? Why shouldn't he try to hurt him?
"You don't deserve him," he says calmly.
The realization clicks in Griss's eyes like a sword's guard against a sheath, the blade firmly planted exactly where it belongs. Gregory would have expected that smug look to fall right off his face, but it only falters for the briefest second before twisting into something far more cruel. He reaches out and grabs Gregory by the collar of his shirt, pulling him dangerously close.
"Let's have some fun together, huh?"
The words settle in Gregory's stomach like needles clattering to the floor. He goes to wrench Griss's hands away only to meet a disorienting lack of resistance as they're torn away of their own accord. Griss instead slips the scarf out from around Gregory's shoulders and steps behind him to pull it over his mouth in what feels like an instant.
"Oops, almost forgot you've got friends around here. Wouldn't want anyone interrupting us," Griss comments, too chipper for how dark his implications are. "Now we can get a move on."
While Gregory struggles, Griss properly wraps the scarf around his head for good measure, tying it tight in the back and not letting go. How is he supposed to escape from this angle? Gregory's mind races, his legs automatically trying to follow along with it as he attempts to tear away from Griss, resulting only in a harsh jerk back towards him that makes his head spin.
There are too few people on the Somniel today for Griss to be caught, it seems. They go completely unwitnessed as he's dragged all the way to his own room, wincing as Griss opens the door.
"All these stuffed animals... really? You're such a softie," he mocks, the slightest bit of laughter in his voice.
He shoves Gregory forward into the room, finally taking his hands off of him to close the door behind him. Gregory backs up to put as much space between them as possible, shaky hands trying to feel out the knot behind his head.
"Relax, I'm over it already," Griss sighs, shocking Gregory into a mixture of disbelief and cautious relief.
He makes a noise that must sound enough like a question, and Griss smirks with a shake of his head.
"Eh, if I really gave you hell I don't know if Louis would forgive me. You're not worth what you'd cost me," he states like it's a matter of fact. "You're still gonna teach me how to sew, though. That can be your punishment. No complaining, either."
Well... it certainly does sound a lot nicer than being literally tortured, doesn't it? Unsure of what to believe, Gregory squeezes his eyes shut in anxious anticipation when Griss gets close to him again, but all he does is untie the scarf. He even sees about setting it back where it belongs, looping it behind Gregory's neck and slowly pulling it from one shoulder over the other.
"If you say any shit like that to me again, I really will kill you," he warns, icily calm as he stares Gregory dead in the eye. "Don't do that to me."
"You... really love him," Gregory hesitantly notes, almost unable to believe it.
Griss must truly, genuinely love Louis to be so afraid of losing him that he'd spare someone he hates so much.
"I don't use words like that," Griss tries to wave it off. "I like what he does to me. It's really not any more complicated than that."
Whether his pride will allow him to admit as much or not, they both know Gregory is right.
"... Are you trying to make something new or mend something torn?" he asks, choosing to drop the subject.
"The hell are you on about now?"
"You want to learn how to sew," Gregory reminds him. "Are you trying to fix something?"
"Oh, right. Yeah, there's, uh... y'know."
For some reason, he doesn't elaborate.
"So you are trying to fix something?" Gregory tries again.
"I just said yes, what do you want from me?"
"Gee, a less vague response would be nice," he huffs with an involuntary twitch of his brow. He'd better not show too much annoyance with Griss after what he just put him through, especially now that they're alone like this...
"Tore somethin' up by accident. Louis didn't act bothered by it but he's too nice to get pissed at me for something like that. Saw him sighing over it the next morning when he thought I was asleep..."
Oh... that's unexpectedly sweet. Of course, Gregory doesn't dare to say as much.
"Okay. Let me get my things and I'll show you how to mend fabric," he says as last of the adrenaline in his system is dying down.
The demonstration doesn't take terribly long. They sit on the bed together and Gregory walks Griss through the process using a scrap of cloth that he cuts a quick hole into before slowly mending it shut with needle and thread. He tears the hole back open and hands the cloth to Griss to try it for himself, watching closely for mistakes to correct.
"It's so... loose," Griss comments as his fingers work just as slowly as Gregory had shown him, care on his part where it had been courtesy prior.
"What do you mean, loose?"
"There's so much room to work with. Can't imagine being able to pull my skin up this high," he chuckles, lifting the cloth a bit to turn it and glance at the underside. "It's, uh... easier than I thought. I was kind of overcomplicating it before."
"What, couldn't figure it out on your own?"
Ah... Gregory doesn't mean to tease him, but that's certainly what it sounds like, isn't it?
"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Like I care," Griss shrugs it off.
"I'm not laughing. It's... well. It's kind of sad."
"The hell does that mean?"
What does that mean? Gregory has to think about it for a moment to figure out why he feels that way. In the end, the answer is rather obvious.
"Well, you're so used to extremes that little things like this throw you for a loop. Honestly, I kind of get that too, here and there. Neither of us had a good childhood, so it's kind of a given..."
"Speak for yourself. Wouldn't change a thing about mine."
Griss says it like he doesn't care at all, but Gregory knows that can't be true.
"You wouldn't change our parents caring so little about us that they sold us to a cult?"
Griss's hands stop moving, accompanied by a quiet, annoyed sigh.
"Who've you been talking to?" he asks.
"Doesn't matter. I know you grew up the same way I did, so I bet you felt the same way I did until the church had its way with you."
"It sure did," Griss chuckles fondly. It's like he enjoys the memory.
"I bet you were just as afraid and miserable as I was back then..."
"Alright, you're starting to piss me off again."
Despite himself, Gregory laughs softly.
"Now you're just afraid to show weakness. I get it. It's hard."
Griss sighs again, louder and even more annoyed, far more purposeful this time.
"Cut that out already. What is it with you goody-two-shoes types wanting to analyze me and shit? You don't know me at all and I don't want you to. Just accept that."
"I literally am you, Griss. It's just stupid to say I don't know you at all."
"I don't even remember as far back as you do, dweeb. We've lived completely different lives, through and through."
Satisfied with his repeatedly successful attempts at mending the cloth, Griss hands it back to Gregory with the needle and thread wrapped up inside.
"... Hey, you weren't planning to hurt yourself to teach me how to stitch a wound up, were you?" it occurs to him to ask now that his half of the supposed exchange is done.
"'Course I was. Although I did think about using you as an example instead for a minute there..."
Gregory shudders, a frown pulling at his lips.
"I'll pass. I don't wanna get hurt, but I don't wanna watch you get hurt either."
"Come on, you'd deny me my favorite thing in the world? Think you're protecting me by being such a prude?"
"I just... don't like it. I want nothing to do with it. I appreciate the thought, but you really don't have to pay me back."
Griss is quiet for a moment, eyes on the floor.
"Well, give me something else to do, then," he mumbles.
"'Scuse me?"
"What, is there a chore you hate doing? Gimme it."
"I just said you don't-- actually, nevermind, I get where you're coming from," Gregory realizes with an incredulous laugh. "I'm, uh, like that too."
"And self-aware! Go ahead and pat yourself on the back while you think of something for me to do."
Gregory glances around the room in hopes that an idea will come to him, and... well, one does. He stands from his bed and walks to his pile of stuffed animals, deliberating for a moment before picking out a soft white rabbit. Whether or not Griss has any idea what his intentions are, he grimaces when Gregory walks back to him with it in hand.
"The thing you can do to repay me is to keep this," he says, pushing it into Griss's chest and letting it fall onto his legs. "Take good care of it."
He's speechless for a while, pulling the bunny up off of his lap by the ear as he inspects it with a scowl.
"Are you actually stupid?" he asks.
"Only as stupid as you," Gregory snips back. "This is your punishment for all your threats today. You have to keep it somewhere visible in your room at all times. Complain and I'll make you carry it around with you instead."
"Ugh."
Griss drops the toy back into his lap, reluctantly accepting his fate. Gregory can't fight a small smile from crossing his face.
"By the way, you do know you could have just asked me to fix whatever you tore to begin with, right? Why didn't you just bring it to me?"
"... I kinda thought... I don't know. Like you'd ruin it even more if I gave it to you. Just wanted to do it myself, that's all."
"Wow. It's really like you don't know how to talk to me without insulting me."
Griss narrows his eyes at him.
"Yeah, well just looking at you insults me more than enough. Consider us even."
"Fine. Will you get out of my room now?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
Who is he kidding with that, after forcing his way in here?! He hurries on out before Gregory can argue with him, who just laughs by his lonesome.
When Gregory was a kid, all he really wanted was a stuffed toy. Even if Griss doesn't remember ever feeling that way, and even if he's far too proud to admit to wanting something like that, it feels like a little wound has been healed, somehow. It feels almost like he's assuaged a physical manifestation of his own fears and problems...
That really is what Griss boils down to, isn't it? The accuracy is almost dizzying.