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It started out simple enough. Gregor was the friendliest to Dante, so Dante sat in front of him. They started talking.
If Gregor was honest, Dante didn't seem like much of a leader, too untouched by the City. They're hesitant in all their movements. Gregor didn't expect an amnesiac to be his boss, but he could hardly blame the guy. Dante turned out to be a good strategist regardless.
Gregor talked to Dante less since entering the L corp branch since he had to greet the fellow G corp soldiers. Outwardly, Gregor acted nonchalant about saying he's a deserter, but he knew some sinners must judge him for it. Maybe even Dante. They have to collect information of each sinner to decide who does what. Gregor hoped his reputation in Dante's eyes wouldn't fall too far down.
Why does it matter what anyone thinks of him? It's only Dante. They're his boss.
There was silence on the bus after their failed attempt to retrieve the Golden Bough. And in Gregor's mind, he saw his mother, and the hanged apple, and heard Dante telling him to go for it. Ahh, the thing that cost all of them the Golden Bough. It was his inaction. One moment of hesitation. Not listening to Dante's command.
Would Dante trust him less from this? Ask others to do the work more? Gregor imagined that to be the case. Why ask a failed soldier instead of someone way less... unstable? Gregor risked a glance forward.
Dante sat at the seat right in front of him, clockhead in hands. There was no ticking. That didn't look like someone who's upset at him. Heck, did Dante blame themself for this?
Gregor stood up and sat next to Dante before he could stop himself. The seat was narrow. Their thighs pressed together before either of them adjusted.
Dante jolted. <What is it, Gregor?>
It occurred to him that he had to talk. "You seem troubled so I want to check in. Are you alright?"
Dante ticked without meaning before he answered, <I'll be fine. We'll all be fine, aren't we?>
Hearing that answer, Gregor felt something he couldn't explain to himself. The wording there, Dante talking like they're equals.
He gave a little nod and continued to sit there beside Dante until it was time to rest.
<Ugh... It's my fault.> Dante said when they walked beside him.
The group was heading for the private gambling floor after defeating all the guards. The infiltration plan was a total failure, but they made do with how unorganized and battle-hungry they all were. Gregor couldn't even deny that. While most sinners prefer to keep back, a few of them loved charging first into action, and the loud ones were more noticeable, after all. Gregor himself might be somewhere between the two.
No one else reacted to Dante’s voice, so Gregor assumed it was meant only for him. He whispered, "It's okay. Mistakes happen. You didn't know that would happen, and Don asked you first..."
<Still,> Dante said. <I don't like it when I fail you guys.>
That's relatable, and a bit sad to hear. "In my eyes, you haven't failed me."
<But I shou—>
"Dante~ Gregor~" Rodion slowed her steps to reach them. "Hurry up! The gambling awaits, you know. Stop gossiping, or include me." She winked and joined the group in front.
Gregor shrugged. "You heard her. The mission continues. It's still going according to plan, yeah?"
Dante looked relieved. <Thanks, Gregor.>
After his horribly failed attempt at a rally, Gregor was now the one moping with Dante as they walked further into the dungeon. "Damn, that was embarrassing."
Dante ticked, <It was cute.>
"Wuh— huh?" Gregor felt heat on his cheeks. Never had he been called that... ever.
<Ah, I mean... It was nice that you tried,> Dante corrected, scratching the side of their clock. <I like that you tried. You're so reliable, and I like when you take initiative like that. When other sinners do it, it tends to be a bit more on the destructive side.>
That made sense to him, and Gregor now felt proud instead of embarrassed. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind, manager bud."
The K Corp checkpoint was a disaster unique to their kind. Gregor was glad he passed the border before Don did her thing. It's not his fault... Siegfried killed them all quickly, at least. The humiliation was short lived.
When Gregor and the rest of the sinners came to, Dante was already talking to Vergillus. Their pain tolerance built so scarily fast. They went from falling to the floor rolling and screaming, to only shivering silently when bringing sinners back and letting out a little sigh. Perhaps they were used to pain before they lost their memory? Nah, their talent lay within strategy, not combat.
Gregor fumbled another acting when they met the Nagel und Hammer, but surely no one expected that to work. Dante gave him a little pat on the back afterward.
During their exploration of Sinclair's basement hallways, they found corpses with a shiny item in the pile. Every sinner either backed off or showed varying degrees of disdain. Except Gregor, because, well, he was used to disgusting things, eh? And trinkets were trinkets, no matter where they were buried. Gregor looked at Dante, who's already facing him.
<Um, Gregor? Can you go for it?>
Pride soared in his heart for being chosen. It didn't take much time for the insectoid arm to dig it out.
They fought the appropriate fights before they reached another room. There was a machine with a bowl with a chair in front. Sitting in the chair should trigger an event, who knows what. Gregor really wished he didn't have to step up. He meant, he would do what's asked, but he already just did a check last time—
<Gregor.>
He suppressed a little flinch. "Ahh yes, alright. Let me do it."
In the end, his tears filled up the bowl. Everything else was blurry. It was too traumatic for Gregor to recall it to himself, or to speak after that for a few minutes, but he talked to Dante later, "That was nice work I did there, wasn't it? Manager bud?"
He could almost hear a smile. <Yes, you did well. Thank you so much.>
Gregor couldn't suppress a smile at hearing that. He could almost forget the pain, and despite the pain, he would do it anyway.
Dante had amnesia, after all, and the world must be a lot to take in. If they need him to pass some checks, he could do that.
They returned to the bus after the mission. Gregor noticed Dante being a bit quiet, then writing into their PDA. Gregor wasn't there but he heard Dante was in rough shape, needing a new uniform after.
When the kebab sticks got passed around, Gregor had one stick too many and, seeing Dante's hand empty, handed them one. "Do you want the... Ah, you can't eat?"
<Oh, I can, actually. Or I can't. It's a bit embarrassing.> Dante started touching right below their clock, near the head to neck junction, and took out a short cord.
Gregor observed in quiet horror. He knew how prosthetics work, but it surprised him how others had it differently than him. Dante seemed unbothered that they could only eat liquid food through an esophageal tube, so Gregor shouldn't show his feelings on it.
Gregor sat next to Dante eating his kebab while Dante made their chicken smoothie in a portable blender before slurping right out of it. He's totally unbothered by it.
<Gregor? You're staring.>
"Gah— ah it's nothing. I just, wow, just wondering how it would feel eating blended food like that."
Dante tilted their head. <I mean, you guys chew before swallowing, right? I imagine it's the same, but without the chewing.>
"When you put it like that," Gregor huffed. "You surprise me sometimes, manager bud."
Dante was quiet for a bit that Gregor worried he said something wrong, but then Dante spoke up, <You may call me Dante. I think. I'm already calling you by name.>
Gregor felt... Gregor wasn't sure, but he wanted to feel it more, this warmth. This connection. "Okay then, Dante."
<Are you ready to continue?>
Gregor got revived from the blob of goo he was reduced to by those destructive ampules. "Yeah I'm fine. Good as new."
They continued fighting. He felt Ishmael glancing at him from time to time, but shrugged it off.
<You didn’t have to do that.> Dante ticked privately in the down time of their walks.
"I..." Gregor trailed off. He could be revived but Dante couldn't. It wasn't his immediate reasoning, but that's what he would have answered if asked.
<…Thank you.>
Gregor really couldn't fight off the smile. "Of course, Dante."
<Gregor, step onto the platform. See if it's safe.>
Both Gregor and Ishmael stepped on the membrane covered L Corp platform at the same time. They stopped and looked at each other.
Ishmael turned to look at Dante, still with that serious expression she'd worn since they had reached U Corp territory. "You don't have to single anyone to do that. We all have to find the Golden Bough." Then she went ahead. Other sinners look at each other before following her silently.
The journey back to shore took a long time, so they spent a lot of time at sea. They had learned to avoid trouble, and Outis was good at navigating the Mephistopheles now. The days were relatively peaceful. Gregor took his time in the morning to come to the main lobby. He pushed on the door.
“... is undeniable that Manager favors Gregor,” Sinclair said.
"T.S.T."
“She said, uhm, that they’re sleeping together.”
Gregor backed off and hid himself right behind the backdoor, panicking. They're... gossiping about him?
"Don't be so crass. Is that even allowed?" Ishmael asked.
Meursault spoke up, "There is no rules on this in Limbus Company, but other companies have rules against romantic relationships between a manager and their employees."
Hold on. Hold on. Where did all this come from? Gregor racked his brain but he was too shocked to think. Dante was nice to him, yes, because Gregor was friendly! And, and...
Rodya piped up still, unaffected by the heavier, accusing tone of some others, “Dante has a favorite, hm?”
That soured Gregor's mood like no other. He's not a favorite, as in a pretty thing to flaunt around. He's competent. Reliable. He's one of the first choices simply because Dante understood him and what he could do, and how he would do it. He's a natural choice.
"I didn't say it's romantic. They get along well, you know..." Sinclair trailed off.
"B.M.I.T.P." (Baby making in the progress.)
"R- Ryoshu! I'm not repeating that!"
Ishmael sighed "For the both of them, I hope they're not doing anything funny. It's unprofessional as is."
Rodya continued the conversation, but Gregor couldn't bear to listen and walked back the way he came. "It's all fun and games right now. Are you guys actually taking this seriously? Come on—"
Wings, if Heathcliff or Outis or Faust was there, he wouldn't hear the end of it.
He passed by Hong Lu in the Hallway, but Gregor didn't pay it any mind. He wanted to be alone.
After getting out of Wuthering Heights, they got roped into investigating a crime for T Corp.
<Greg—>
"Rodion. Ryoshu. Hong Lu," Vergillus said.
The air was tense among the sinners.
Gregor nodded once and stared at the floor, avoiding Dante. Not because he felt rejected. Vergillus overruled Dante so it's not their fault, but Gregor couldn't meet anyone's eyes right now. The others were watching.
Vergillus paused. "Hahhh... Dante, those sinners are chosen with reasons. It's not done with any personal feelings in mind. They are capable of this mission. It is also a good chance for you to get to know them better, with a smaller team to manage."
It felt like Dante was being scolded, whether Vergillus intended it or not.
A tick. <Very well.>
Faust nodded. "They agree to the choice."
According to Vergillus' choosing, Dante went to investigate with Hong lu, Ryoshu, and Rodya. The rest of the sinners except Faust were locked in T Corp’s holding cell.
Gregor sat with his elbows on his knees, insectoid arm folded tight against himself so it wouldn’t take up too much space.
Heathcliff broke the silence first. “I thought it would be great to rest a bit, but this really sucks.”
No one answered.
“Oi, don't you think so?”
Gregor kept staring at the floor. Then he noticed the silence and looked up. All eyes were on him. "Huh?"
“You looked disappointed when Vergillus gave his choices and your name's not on it.”
“I wasn’t.” Gregor exhaled through his nose.
Meursault spoke next, “Manager attempted to nominate you before the decision was finalized.”
Gregor gritted out, “So?”
“So,” Heathcliff said, “it looked personal.”
Gregor didn’t answer immediately. Yi Sang sat far back, looking uncomfortable to even have to share a cell with them. Don looked confused about what's going on. Ishmael looked outside the cell as if watching the scenery. Outis was staring at him.
Sinclair asked timidly, perhaps he did that because others would have phased it worse, “If Dante asked you to come along just because they wanted you there… would you?”
Silence.
Gregor shrugged. “They wouldn’t do that. They would choose who suits the mission.”
“That’s not what he asked,” Outis said. Her, too?
Meursault added, “An answer would clarify the professional boundary from your side.”
Gregor laughed once. Since when did they care, really. “You’re reading too much into it. Manager understands my capabilities. That’s all.”
Gregor turned away before anyone could see the flicker in his expression, then moved to the far end of the cell where the light was dimmer. He sat back down and pressed his back to the wall and exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.
Footsteps approached.
“I didn’t mean to let them dogpile you,” Ishmael said quietly.
“They’re not wrong to talk.”
Ishmael let out her signature sigh. She leaned against the wall beside him, close enough to not be overheard. “I'll be direct. Are you two dating?”
Gregor blinked. “No." No hesitation there, because it was true.
Ishmael studied him. “But you want to."
Heat flared up his neck. “That’s not— It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
Gregor opened his mouth. Closed it. He had no answers.
What was it like?
He wanted to be useful. He wanted Dante to trust him, to rely on him. To make them proud.
He liked the way Dante stood a little closer to whisper, ticking softened when they spoke to him, their thin figure hidden underneath the long coat. He liked when Dante was comfortable and content.
He wanted Dante to look his way first in a group of people. He wanted to be their first choice.
He liked Dante who chose him.
Want, like— they're indistinguishable. He craved them, needed them.
Wow. He... couldn't say any of that out loud, could he?
Ishmael’s expression softened. After a moment, she pushed off the wall. “If it did become like that,” she said, “make sure it’s... good for you."
When she stepped away, the noise of the others drifted back in. Gregor stayed where he was a little longer.
They weren’t dating.
But when the door of the cell opened, he knew exactly who he’d look for first.