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Felix was hunting a lead.
This wasn’t the first lead he’d stalked over the past year, chasing down any rumor he could find of Dimitri and Glenn. The universe was vast and the Fodlani Star System was small and irrelevant—most people hadn’t even heard of the galaxy it was located in. Dimitri and Glenn, for all their elevated status in Faerghus as the King and his Right Hand, might as well be specks of dust to the rest of the known universe.
And yet, they were important enough for someone to have plucked them right out of a galaxy-wide war and disappeared them into the cosmos.
With Dimitri gone, Faerghus collapsed under internal strife. Felix didn’t stick around to watch the Adrestrian Empire deal the final blow. The trail led outwards, to the stars beyond. There was nothing left for him down below.
The latest intel led him to the Tavern where Masked Fools gathered. It was located on a bustling planet full of revelry and vice, the perfect place for a faction of chaotic and foolish elation-seekers who worshiped the Aeon of Joy.
“A Galaxy Ranger like you will stick out like a sore thumb,” Yuri had said, happily accepting the frankly gargantuan amount of credits Felix transferred over. “Lighten up a bit or they’ll lead you around by the nose and laugh at you all the while.”
Yuri was a part-time information broker and part-time smuggler, possibly one of the best in the business. The IPC had a hefty bounty on his head, but Yuri was slippery enough that neither his face nor his real name was listed on that bounty. Felix wasn’t even sure if “Yuri” was his actual name.
“I don’t care.” Felix said. “But this better be worth it.”
Yuri shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’ll be looking for a man named Sylvain. Tall, red hair. I think you’ll find him to be very interesting.”
As a Galaxy Ranger, Felix was more or less an inter-galactic fugitive. Galaxy Rangers lived solitary lives as they walked the Path of the Hunt under the Aeon Lan, dedicating their lives to the pursuit of their individual goals. Often, these goals—usually consisting of things like violence, death, and revenge—ran afoul of cosmic laws and regulations.
Felix wasn’t pious, nor did he feel any real kinship with the Galaxy Rangers as an organization, inasmuch as it could be called one, loose and decentralized as it was. The affiliation was a means to an end, and that was all. In the end, Felix followed the path his own sword cut as he always did.
Felix slipped through the Tavern’s doors and was immediately bombarded with an onslaught of sensation: sticky floors and the sour odor of alcohol and puke, neon lights flashing brightly as booming music assaulted him from all sides, rattling his eardrums and thumping through his chest; Felix resisted the urge to press his hands against his ears. Masses of sweaty, dancing bodies undulated throughout the enclosed space, driving Felix to skirt the crowd by slinking along the walls. He'd never considered himself claustrophobic before, but the noise, the smell, the feeling of being surrounded with his exit points blocked made bile rise up his throat.
Part of him wanted to turn heel and leave, but then he thought of his bank account and grit his teeth instead.
He lingered in the shadows for a while, telling himself that he was scouting out the place. The disco lights that spun round and round sending bright iridescent light scattering through the dark dance floor made the headache that’d started pulsing behind his eyes even worse.
“Oh my, you’re a new face,” a woman purred, slipping into the space next to him. “Wanna have some fun?”
Felix tensed, hand twitching toward his swords. Despite being on high alert, he hadn’t noticed her approach. She wore a flowery bird-like mask and a skimpy dress that showed more skin than it covered, and she leaned towards him invitingly.
“I’m looking for a man named Sylvain,” Felix yelled over the music. The woman looked him up and down, gaze lingering uncomfortably long on his face and then the swords hanging by his waist. She laughed knowingly.
“Another scorned lover? I gotta see this. Hey, if I bring you to him will you promise to let me watch?”
What the hell, Felix thought. “No.”
“Aww, don’t be like that,” the woman said flirtatiously, looping her arm into the crook of Felix’s elbow. She tilted her face up teasingly and ran sharp, manicured nails along his arm. “The night is young!”
Felix growled and stepped away. This time, his hand found the hilt of his sword. “Not interested.”
“I see how it is,” she nodded, unfazed by his bristling rejection. “You think you’re special; well, I shan’t be the one to tell you otherwise! I see him by the bar, by the way. I’m sure you’ll know him when you see him.”
Felix looked towards where she pointed. In the distance, a tall man leaned suggestively against the curved bar counter, a low glass full of murky liquid held loosely in his hand. Tousled red hair framed a face hidden behind a orange fox mask, though Felix could still see the smug curve of his smirk as he chattered to the bartender who seemed to be doing her best to ignore him.
He stalked to the counter. “You. Sylvain.”
The bartender took one look at his expression and barked out a laugh. “Really, another one?”
The man shuddered and downed the rest of his drink. “Sorry, don’t know him! Try anywhere that’s not here!”
“The Mockingbird told me you’d be here,” Felix said in a low voice, hoping that the music pounding throughout the club drowned out his words for anyone eavesdropping.
At this, the man paused. He turned to regard Felix, peering at him from behind the fox mask. “You sure I can’t convince you to leave?”
“Let’s talk somewhere else,” Felix said through clenched teeth. If he had to stay in the dance hall one moment longer he would explode.
“Whoa baby, at least buy me a drink first!” Sylvain crooned. His posture relaxed and he leaned backwards against the bar, showing off a sheer top that cut a deep and revealing V over his chest. “Although I meant you leaving separately. Like, not with me.”
Felix swept his gaze around their surroundings. The bartender had moved to the other end of the counter to take an order. Everyone else was dancing and partying and drinking with abandon, but Felix could not be sure.
He stepped closer, fixing his stare onto the shadowed eyes hidden behind Sylvain’s fox mask. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out any details, but Sylvain seemed to hesitate between wanting to lean away or to match Felix's daring.
“You have information that I want,” Felix said in that same low voice. He watched Sylvain’s throat swallow. “I can pay.”
“Sure you can afford me?” Sylvain replied. His smile turned coy; Felix felt Sylvain's interest rising, and the hair on the back of his neck rose in instinctual response.
He wouldn't give ground. “Depends on what you give me.”
Sylvain threw his head back and laughed, and the tension snapped like a split thread. “Never let it be said that I’m not a giver. Although…” He leered and leaned in close, tilting his head to inspect Felix. Suddenly, Felix could smell the alcohol on Sylvain’s breath, the musk of sweat mixed with cheap cologne, but he refused to flinch or back away. "I can think of a couple of things you might like."
Chuckling to himself at Felix's fierce scowl, Sylvain led him out of the booming dance floor and into a quiet hallway. After glancing up and down the hall to make sure they were alone, Sylvain leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
“Well, hit me with it. Not literally though, I’m fragile you know.”
Despite himself, Felix eyed Sylvain dubiously. The sheer top Sylvain wore was gauzy and skintight, scandalously highlighting a tantalizing expanse of tanned skin and solid muscle. Felix could see Sylvain's broad shoulders and thick chest clearly through the fabric. When Sylvain shifted, the muscles in his arms flexed with the movement. The part of his brain that still clung to hypervigilance was reminded of a soldier's physique. The other part got stuck on the way Sylvain's biceps bulged.
When he took too long to speak, Sylvain caught his wandering eyes and smirked.
He coughed and looked away. “I’m…looking for someone. Two people. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Glenn Govan Fraldarius. We’re—they’re from a planet called Faerghus in the Fodlani Star System; they disappeared in the middle of a war about a year ago. Dimitri was the King, but the Adrestrian Empire—the other participant in the war—doesn’t claim the kill. There was no body, and the trail lead off-planet. Eventually, it lead out of the star system entirely.”
“Ah…that’s right,” Sylvain mused, nodding his head, “Five years ago, the Adrestrian Stellar Empire attacked the Holy Star-Kingdom of Faerghus, dragging the whole Fodlani System into war. Heard the neighboring planets managed to stay out of the conflict, but only just.”
Felix narrowed his eyes. “You’ve heard of Fodlan?”
From behind the mask, Sylvain’s eyes slid toward him, his insincere half-smile glittering under the dim light. “Little Ranger, I know quite a lot about nothing at all. Want something completely and utterly useless? I’m your guy!”
"First of all, don't call me that," Felix snapped, suddenly remembering Yuri's warning about him sticking out like a sore thumb. Should he have tried to disguise himself? "Secondly, most people don’t even know of Fodlan’s existence, much less details about the war.”
“Little Ranger–” “–Stop calling me that–” “–didn’t I just say I knew quite a lot about nothing? I just keep my ear to the ground for gossip like any humble Fool. Such a tiny star system…that thing is barely on the IPC’s radar and they’ve got their fingers in any pie that’s worth a single credit. Princes and Kings are a dime a dozen across the universe, you know. Hop to the next star system and you’ll find another.”
Felix grit his teeth. “You say it’s small and insignificant but you still know more about it than anyone else I’ve ever met, save for Yuri. What do you know.”
“Oh, this and that.” Sylvain flapped his hand noncommittally. “A lot of people come through the Tavern, I probably heard about from someone.”
Felix looked at Sylvain again. The glitz and glamor Sylvain draped himself in—the tipsy sway of his body that Felix suspected was at least partially faked, the revealing, attention-grabbing outfit, the lazy and insouciant grin he kept painted on his face like another mask—underneath it all, something hummed in the air between them. A tugging in Felix's blood, a quickening of his heartbeat. A familiar surge of power rising under his skin, quivering in anticipation.
"You—" Felix started, his feet sliding into the start of a swordman's stance out of sheer instinct, "You have a Crest." He felt it call to him, the feeling of Crest resonating with Crest so alien after having not experienced it for so long. Tension ricocheted through his body as his hand reached for his sword. The Crest of Fraldarius pulsed and the Crest in Sylvain's blood answered.
"Huh, what's that?" Sylvain said, deceptively casual. What Felix could see of his expression did not change; the fox mask shadowed his eyes. But Felix had been a hunter for a long time, and he knew what it looked like when prey realized themselves to be cornered.
There were, of course, Fodlaners who left the star system. It was exceedingly rare because Fodlan had been isolated from the greater universe for a long time. Even now, one had to be either extremely lucky or extremely wealthy to arrange a spaceflight out of the galaxy entirely. It meant that the people who did leave generally left an impression.
Something prickled in the depths of his memory. Bad news, during the war. His father frowning as he held his comm: the Margrave is requesting backup...his son... He’d met the Margrave for the first time after that—a tall, stern man. Minor Crest. Light red hair, just like…
“You’re Gautier,” Felix said with a start. The resonance, the knowledge, the soldier's build. Sylvain’s ever-present smile turned dark. “Sylvain Gautier—you’re the heir that defected during the war. You’re literally from Faerghus. What the hell are you doing here?!”
The friendliness slid off Sylvain like a loose sheet. He drew himself up higher, and this time his posture radiated threat. His words became laced with mockery. “I could ask the same of you. Loyal little Fraldarius, fucking off to become a Galaxy Ranger to rid the world of evil. I thought you lot had more allegiance than that.”
Aggression Felix knew how to deal with. He was almost relieved that Sylvain was riled up enough to stop flirting, but he still kept a wary hand on his sword. “I don't give a shit about that," Felix snarled. "I told you, I’m looking for my br—for Glenn and Dimitri!”
“They’re probably dead,” Sylvain shrugged. He looked over Felix’s shoulder with flippant disregard, back toward the endless revelry, the sounds of which echoed faintly down their hallway. “Like I said, dime a dozen. You can find another king to serve anywhere you want.”
“Yuri said you know something, and he’s never wrong,” Felix pressed. It felt like he was finally making progress in his long and fruitless search. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t let this go, not even in the face of Sylvain’s blatant avoidance. “And he says you owe him a favor.”
For the first time, the smile on Sylvain’s face slipped, twisting into more of a grimace. “Don’t you wonder what’s in it for him? I don’t think your daddy’s money stretches far enough to pay for his services, Fraldarius. He’s using you, you know! For some nefarious purpose he doesn’t want to get his own hands dirty for!”
“He’s an information broker, it’s literally his job. You sound like you’re scared of him,” Felix taunted. “What, got yourself into too much debt hightailing it out of Fodlan, and your life is now a tiny little bargaining chip in his hands?”
“Ugh.” Sylvain ran a hand through his carefully arranged hair. “Y’know, I guess this is a small price to pay to be a little less in Yuri’s debt. But…I don’t come free either.”
Relief coursed through Felix at Sylvain’s acquiescence, but it was quickly dashed as he thought of his recently emptied bank account. He winced. “...How much.”
Sylvain's laugh was bright and fake. “Hey, now we’re talking. I don’t want your money though.” He drew the hey out long and teasing, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.
Before Felix could figure out what he meant by that, his field of vision was suddenly filled with Sylvain’s broad body. Large hands grasped at his, gently prying his hands off his swords and firmly resisting Felix’s knee-jerk flinch as Sylvain walked them backwards toward the wall. Felix felt his back make contact, but was quickly distracted from the jolt of it by Sylvain's hands suddenly cupping his face.
Gently tilting Felix's chin up, Sylvain murmured, "How about a kiss, beautiful?"
His breath ghosted across Felix's cheek, his low, deep voice threading through Felix's ears. Despite wearing so little, Felix could feel the heat radiating off of Sylvain’s body, the near-press of his barely clothed torso. His face was so close.
"Wait," Felix choked out. Sylvain’s fingers stroked his jaw, pressing light yet firm at the soft skin under his chin, his pinky brushing against Felix’s pulse threatening to jackrabbit itself out of his skin. Felix felt like he’d been spun around in zero-gravity, the ground disappearing from beneath his feet as he tumbled head over heels, uncontrolled and dizzy. His hands shot up of their own volition to grab at Sylvain’s arm, his fingers digging into the solid muscle of Sylvain’s forearm, and then Felix’s brain fizzled to a halt. “Wait—stop—”
"Boo," Sylvain said lightly, stepping back; Felix’s hands slid off Sylvain’s arm without his conscious input. Sylvain seemed entirely unaffected which made a mix of fury and shame swirl in Felix’s gut. "Well. It'll be nine hundred thousand credits then."
There was a moment of silence as Felix processed the words that came out of Sylvain’s mouth, knees still quivering from the remnants of Sylvain’s touch. "What the fuck," Felix snarled, abruptly shocked out of the embarrassing feeling that had begun to curl in his stomach. "I didn't even pay Yuri that much!"
Sylvain beamed, spreading his hands out as if to say and? "Well, I've got some information he doesn't, don't I? And he sent you alllll the way here to little ol' me instead of literally anyone else in his extensive network of contacts. I think that's worth a pretty penny!"
The flush on Felix’s face was definitely from fury now. "You—you just said you didn’t want my money!"
Sylvain moved his head like he was rolling his eyes behind his mask. "That was then and this is now. Your loss for not taking me up on my special discount offer.” He pulled out his phone. “Ready when you are.”
Felix really, really didn’t have nine hundred thousand credits. “Hundred thousand.” He could probably scrape that amount up. Somehow.
Scoffing, Sylvain pocketed his phone and turned like he was about to start walking away. “Are you kidding? No way. You’re lucky I’m a chill guy, anyone else might pick a fight over being lowballed that much.”
Felix licked his lips. Fuck, was he really going to do this? “Hundred thousand and a kiss.”
Sylvain twisted around so fast Felix was afraid he might fall over. “Now we’re talking. Deal.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you actually don’t give a shit about the money,” Felix accused, crossing his arms.
“Hey, I didn’t say that,” Sylvain said. “It’s not cheap living here, you know. But what’s the point of living life without some whimsy! Some joy! Some elation, as the Fools like to say.”
“Tch.”
When no other objections were forthcoming, Sylvain slid in close again. This time, his hands ghosted up Felix’s arms, tracing the line of his neck before cupping his cheek. Goosebumps followed in their wake. Felix fought the urge to shiver, and then the urge to turn his face into Sylvain’s palm.
“Wait,” Felix said as Sylvain brushed his thumb against the corner of his mouth, and Sylvain groaned, drooping. “I have a condition.”
It was like waving a treat before a dog; Sylvain perked up again. “Got a request? I’ll have you know I’m great at kissing. And many, many other things.” His voice lowered into something smooth and velvet. “I could show you.”
Felix swallowed at little flip his heart made at the sound of Sylvain’s purr. “Take your mask off,” he said.
Sylvain laughed. “Wow, didn’t take you for a romantically gazing into your partner’s eyes kinda guy.”
Felix looked away, feeling heat creep up his ears. “How am I supposed to trust you if you’re hiding half your face?”
“Sure, we'll go with that.” Sylvain let out of huff of amusement. He reached up and removed the fox mask, clipping it to his belt. Grinning widely at Felix, he deliberately let his fingers rake through his hair, making sure Felix had full view of his body from head to toe. “Well, like what you see?”
Sylvain’s eyes were large and brown, shining with friendly humor. The hair he'd just mussed up, lit by the dimly glowing lights, fell to frame his face handsomely, each curl like a master painter's brushstroke. Felix suddenly understood why everyone had assumed he was one of Sylvain's discarded conquests. He had a way of smiling so warmly that it drew you in like a moth to a flame, and you were so allured by his charm you didn’t notice his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Not that Felix had this problem. "Whatever," was what Felix said, even as his gaze skittered anywhere but Sylvain.
“Uh-huh. Let’s try this one more time, yeah?”
“Wait,” Felix said again when Sylvain's forehead brushed against his. This time, it was mostly to see if Sylvain would.
To his credit, he did. His head lowered to thunk against Felix’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, if you blueball me one more time I might actually die,” Sylvain complained into the ruff of Felix's jacket.
“Kiss, then information, then I’ll pay,” Felix said. His voice came out steadier than he felt. “And you better not lie."
“Hey, Masked Fools might be incorrigible liars all around but my reputation as one of Yuri’s contacts is on the line, you know,” Sylvain muttered. Then he straightened to look Felix directly in the eye, grin splitting into a sleazy bent. To his chagrin, Felix felt his face flush. “And as a kisser. Speaking of…why don’t you let me show you a good time first and then we can talk shop?”
“This is technically part of talking shop,” Felix said under his breath, but this time he did not interrupt when Sylvain leaned in again.
Sylvain was impatient enough to refrain from teasing touches, or perhaps he just didn't want to give Felix another chance to change his mind. This time, his hand flashed out to grip at the front of Felix's jacket, shoving him back against the wall they’d stepped away from. Felix hit the wall with a thump and exhaled with annoyance, and Sylvain took advantage of his momentary lapse in focus to capture his lips into a blinding kiss.
The kiss was deep and wet, Sylvain licking filthily into Felix’s mouth like a starved man. Felix found himself kissing back, chasing Sylvain’s eager explorations. When Felix unconsciously moved his head to gasp for air, Sylvain’s hand rocketed upwards to grip at his chin, sudden and rough, holding him firmly in position. The feeling of Sylvain’s hand spanning his face made an embarrassing noise erupt from Felix’s throat, and Sylvain’s grip tightened, as if provoked.
Felix’s arms shot up to grasp at Sylvain’s shirt, but the fabric was slippery and his hands slid against the hard muscle of Sylvain’s chest once, twice, before he got a grip to pull roughly. Sylvain laughed meanly against his mouth, following Felix’s tug to press their bodies together, then licked a wet stripe from chin to lips. It should have felt gross, but all Felix could feel was the overwhelming pressure of Sylvain’s calloused fingers on his face and the wet heat of Sylvain’s tongue sliding into his mouth again and he couldn’t do anything but moan into it, barely cognizant of the noises he was making.
“Wow,” Sylvain gasped out dreamily. Felix wheezed in a breath, but before he could say anything Sylvain was on him again, sucking and nibbling at every corner of his mouth. Felix growled in warning before nipping at Sylvain’s lips. He must have bit harder than he intended, because the metallic tang of blood suddenly burst over his tongue; Felix tried to pull away, but Sylvain just laughed again, making sure to catch Felix’s eye before deliberately swiping a tongue over the blood beading on his lips. Felix shivered under Sylvain’s heavy gaze.
“Biting, huh? Should’ve guessed,” Sylvain murmured, and Felix had just enough time to hiss out a “Fuck you” before Sylvain lifted his chin up to sink his teeth into Felix’s neck.
The streak of pleasure-pain that coursed through him was like a lightning bolt. Felix whimpered, involuntarily bucking up. Sylvain’s hands stroked down his body, riding the jerky movement easily as he squeezed and groped along Felix’s chest and waist and hips. The feeling of Sylvain’s hands dragging roughly along his sides, the sparks of white-hot pleasure as Sylvain worked another bite into his neck—he wanted—he wanted more—
“Fuck,” Felix gasped, unable to form a more coherent thought. At the sound of his voice, Sylvain stopped leaving bites along Felix’s neck and kissed him hard and fast and hungry, swallowing the whines that Felix no longer knew he was making.
It felt like an eternity before Sylvain finally lifted his head, their breaths mingling, Felix’s heartbeat thudding like drums in his ears. His vision briefly cleared to witness Sylvain looking at him with a half-crooked smile, soft and fond, impossibly real.
“Well,” Sylvain laughed breathlessly, and the illusion broke as a half-hearted leer slid back onto his face. “Now that’s worth a pretty penny.”
Felix was panting hard, leaning heavily against the wall and praying that his knees didn’t give out on him. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to re-orient himself, but all that accomplished was making him hyper-aware of the phantom touch of Sylvain’s mouth and hands lingering against his skin and the intense heat pooling in his gut.
He wiped his mouth and managed to pull himself together enough to spit out, “Intel. Now.”
Sylvain ran a critical eye up and down Felix’s disheveled and tremoring body, lingering with interest on the absolutely debauched state of Felix’s face. Felix resisted the urge to cover his mouth. “You look like you need another second.”
Fuck Sylvain and his stupid hair and his kiss-red lips and his irritatingly quick recovery time. Felix growled wordlessly.
Shaking his head in amusement, Sylvain said, "Right, back to business! So, I heard from a girl I hooked up with who heard from a guy she knew who heard from his friend-slash-acquaintance-slash-occasional business partner that there was some fresh new gossip on a planet called Shambhala’s black market about a hot new commodity…called ‘crest blood’."
"What the hell does that mean," Felix muttered, mostly to himself. He was trying to make sense of Sylvain’s words, but his head was still spinning a little as he tried to calm himself down.
Sylvain barked out a laugh. "You don’t even know who or what you’ve been chasing this whole time? I’m shocked you managed to get this far, actually."
"And you do?"
"Sure. Crests aren't found outside of Fodlan, you know, partially due to its isolation, partially due to a specific composition of memoria and imaginary energy found there that nurtures them. Apparently, they can’t even be passed down genetically. It's kind of ironic," Sylvain mused, "how bloodline is so important there, but leave the star system and the Crest becomes useless beyond yourself. Whoever captured those two are probably trying to see if Crests can be breeded or created outside of Fodlan, although what about their Crests is special I have no idea.”
Felix was paying more attention to the serious furrow of Sylvain's brow. It was a stark departure from careless flirt of earlier, and Felix caught himself thinking that he preferred it. He grimaced and tried to chase the thought away—why would he care? "How do you know this? I didn’t know people left Fodlan enough to…to figure this stuff out.”
Sylvain eyed him. “We’ve gotten to this point and you’re still questioning me? Anyway, that market and whoever is purporting to sell ‘crest blood’ is probably going to be your best lead, though I don’t know how to access it myself."
The adrenaline high of being kissed within an inch of his life was quickly wearing off as reality came crashing in. "Right,” Felix said curtly, mind already whirling with all the plans he needed to make. He'd have to arrange travel to Shambhala, but he probably needed to do a few pit stops to replenish his funds first. “Thanks. I'll pay you now."
"Whoa, hold on!" Sylvain pushed Felix's phone away. "How about another deal? Let me come with you, and I'll waive the fee."
Felix stared. “What? Why? You ran away from Fodlan and you evidently don’t give a shit about Dimitri.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I still don’t,” Sylvain said breezily. “And no amount of money in the world could get me to go back there. I worry just looking at you though, I fear you wouldn’t be able to charm your way into a nightclub, much less a closely guarded underground black market. You’ll definitely need help."
“You just told me you didn’t know how to find it,” Felix snapped.
"I don’t know how to get in, but I might know someone who would. Someone even Yuri wouldn’t know." Sylvain winked.
Felix said, suspiciously, “What’s in it for you?”
Sylvain shrugged. "I'm bored? You're hot? Take your pick."
"If you just want to waste my time—" Felix's voice rose, irate.
"Felix, darling, you're putting words into my mouth again. I want to help you. It’ll be fun for me, and you get my wonderful company–” Felix scoffed “ –and my suspiciously knowledgeable intel. And I can do the talking. You seem like the kind of person who hates doing the talking.”
Felix had encountered leads into black markets and seedy organizations before, but all had fizzled out into nothing. He wasn't the best at making people trust him, and he'd learned that he was awful at acting like he didn't have an ulterior motive. Maybe Sylvain's effortless charisma would help. He didn't need it, of course, Felix had done harder things on his own, but…it would be nice.
Also, he didn’t have the money to pay Sylvain’s hundred thousand credit asking price. And the sense-memory of Sylvain’s body on his—
It was Felix's turn to run a hand through his hair, aggravated. His ponytail had loosened from its hold, and he jerked it back into place. Sylvain watched him with a pleased expression like he knew he’d already won.
"Fine," Felix said. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this. "We can talk details elsewhere. Don't slow me down."
"Aye aye, captain," Sylvain lazily saluted, throwing him a cheeky wink. "I'm at your disposal."
Ugh. Felix rubbed his face. "Let's get out of here, this place fucking sucks.”
Sylvain sighed. "Tell me about it. Here, we can bypass the main entrance this way." He tugged at Felix's elbow, smirking at Felix when he glowered ineffectually at the touch. “Stick close to me, the Tavern loves to randomly change its layout and trap unsuspecting visitors. Or drunk partiers. Don’t ask me how I know.”
It suddenly occurred to Felix that he’d never fully introduced himself. He dug his heels in, interrupting Sylvain’s mindless chatter about bizarre architecture of the Tavern. Sylvain looked back in confusion.
"Hold on. I never told you my name." Felix glared at Sylvain. “How did you know who I was?”
Sylvain laughed and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I know what Glenn Fraldarius looks like, you know. He was a pretty public figure. I made an educated guess, especially after you started talking about Fodlan."
“...I didn’t know who you were, back then,” Felix said. He knew the Margrave Gautier had a crested heir, but hadn’t bothered to find out anything about him. “Just that you ran.”
Shrugging, Sylvain said, “We were fighting on different fronts of the war. Guess my old man was too ashamed of me to say anything after I left. But that’s all behind us now! Come on.”
There was obviously something Sylvain wasn’t saying. He’d avoided saying anything substantial about his time in their homeworld. Felix still didn’t know how Sylvain had left the Fodlani Star System, how he’d met Yuri. The story he’d spun about his source for the crest blood information was insultingly fake.
It didn’t matter, Felix decided. The past Sylvain wanted to hide didn’t matter, only the future Sylvain could unravel for him. Who was he to criticize? Felix had done some running of his own to get here.
When Sylvain held his hand out in invitation, Felix took it.