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The one thing that never changed on Corbeau was his eyes.
Over his life, Philippe watched him make many transformations. He catered a look for every role, and the first time Philippe saw him in a suit was when he took on the role of mentee under Lysandre. What he wore now as the Rust Syndicate Boss looked much more elaborate compared to that. The Boss also went through several hair changes, promoted by many influences in his life.
His skin went from unmarked to tattooed and maimed. Glasses obscured his face, but didn’t cover the one thing that always remained: yellow eyes.
Philippe dragged Corbeau out of the office once a year, every year, to unwind. He forced him to take a break, and Corbeau had no say on when it would happen, and how long it lasted. Even though they had plenty of fun alone, sometimes Philippe would plan it around his family or their friends in other cities.
And in that role, no one ever recognized Corbeau.
He could turn it off. Corbeau just as easily turned off his charming, charismatic aura while away from work. Thanks to a bit of history, Philippe also knew from what else he needed a break.
Corbeau let his hair take a break and grew his natural, black hair during this time. His boss’s spiky, unstyled hair made him look like a kid again.
During their time away from the city, Corbeau would put sweats on, baggy pants, arms exposed where he usually didn’t: it was like a whole other side of him came out for a short time. And his mannerisms weren’t so proper and clean. Philippe often kept his up out of habit, but Corbeau didn’t feel obligated to be nice to people he didn’t know and wouldn’t see again.
Philippe sometimes stopped shaving for a bit too, to see how long he could get it before he had to fix it again. He could wear leather out here, no suits until they got back.
But those yellow eyes looking at him for a signal or assessment or just checking in—same eyes as the office. No matter where they were, Corbeau saw Philippe as the same man that would keep him informed and secure.
“Why do we come out here anyways?”
Corbeau questioned him that one day that they decided to crash a beach party with their presence. No one recognized them, so they unintentionally got invited to eat watermelon by the water instead. Corbeau just agreed and stood with his feet in the water. Like he wasn’t some merciless loan shark who could ruin people’s lives with a wave of his hand.
“To take a break.”
“From what? I love working.”
Philippe shook his head. “You lose it when you work too long.”
“So?”
“Remember Lysandre?”
Corbeau made a face, still looking at him. Obviously he remembered Lysandre.
“Well, you lose touch with yourself, and you end up like that.”
Corbeau looked out at the ocean, and he looked so different from the version of him that’s Philippe’s boss. But he struck the same pose with one hand in his pocket and a sharp look at Philippe. “I don’t wanna end up like that.”
“That’s why you need to stop sometimes. And no one else is gonna tell you to do it.” Philippe stood up and walked close to Corbeau. “Wanna go somewhere else? Anywhere you wanna go, I’ll take you there.”
“Home.”
“No. The city will be there in a few more days.”
“Fine. I wanna go for a ride on your bike. Let’s see how far she can take us until she tells us to stop.”
The day ended with a glorious sunset over suddenly colorful sand. Corbeau pretended to be unamused but looked more relaxed out here. His face wore a frown but a softened countenance and eyes not locking quite so hard on anyone. Less fear, more free.
So, Philippe drove him around. They hopped from city to city just for the fun of it. On a larger stretch, Philippe pushed his bike to the limit to show off how fast she could go. That earned him a smile when he got Corbeau off the bike afterwards.
Corbeau caused trouble everywhere they went. He didn’t hold back any thoughts, even if he should have. It was like a real vacation where Corbeau was free to be the rascal that he was inside.
It insulted Philippe at one point that no one knew who Corbeau was.
“Sir, doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?”
“Nobody knows who you are.”
“So? It’s like the old days. No one knew me then. Not even you. I did what I wanted, and I didn’t have to think about anyone else suffering the consequences.”
Like the old days, huh? Philippe chuckled at that and ruffled his hair.
“You know, Boss, you’ve never changed since then. You’re the same person you were.”
“Really?” He didn’t believe Philippe. “You did. Never thought I’d see steely eyes staring at me and I’d be running towards them. Actually, you surprised me. And I don’t need to tell you how hard that is. You see, I don’t think you needed me in order to be something big, but I think we would’ve missed out on a lot if you passed on me. And the only reason why you accepted it was because you changed.”
“I started listening.”
Corbeau chuckled. He pointed at Philippe’s jacket and then to himself.
Philippe plopped his large leather jacket on his shoulders, amused at the sight. “Anything you need is yours, Boss.”
He smirked. “Shoes?”
“No.” Philippe corrected, with a hint of irritation, “Anything within reason.”