Rook watches him as he gets to work, the flicker of emotion on his face, when he doesn't think he's portraying anything at all but there is a faint tightening around his brow, around his mouth. This is a man, who is used to holding back his dissatisfaction, and probably his satisfaction as well.
However, he is being far too queasy about it.
"This is part of it," he says quietly. His voice doesn't quiver, his hand doesn't tremble as the disinfectant is applied. And it does sting, he's just used to pain. "You understand that, don't you?"
"And?" he asks, not stopping until he's wrapped up the steady hand, and then he lifts his gaze to stare almost defiantly back at Rook. "Does that mean I should be happy about this?"
Ulysse stares a moment longer before sighing and resuming his work on Rook's hand, now addressing the broken nails and cleaning up the dried blood from the long digits. "I did," he says, calm once more. "You're good."
And yes, he'd seen the articles about the Incident, had even watched a clip of it, the court case that followed, and so on.
"I didn't ask you to look me up because I'm good," Rook points out. "I'm sure you saw that I killed a man in ring."
Lets put it on the table. He also stills Ulysse's hands but taking a hold of one of them, waiting until the man looks up at him.
"I'm not going to work for you unless you're making that offer with full understanding of what I am and what I'm capable of. I did not go into that ring thinking I'm going to kill someone, but that's what happened."
"You've seen how it gets in here," Ulysse points out, letting his hands still as Rook holds one. "If it takes a killer to keep those dogs at bay, so be it."
Then he pauses and his gaze softens, his hand turning to hold Rook's rather than simply tolerating being stopped from his work. "But I don't think you're a killer, anyway. By all accounts, what happened with you was an accident."
Rook is a bit surprised by the softening of the barkeep's demeanour, his pale eyes holding Ulysse's gaze while he quietly tries to wrap his mind around this shift. He would understand using him, using this mad dog of war to clean up his place. But this isn't cold and calculating.
"You shouldn't care about me," he says then, voice quiet but serious. "If we're going to do this, you really should not care about me."
His bandaged fingers tighten lightly around Ulysse's, warm skin, medical tape, the scent of disinfectant, then a completely unconscious brush of the fighter's thumb over Ulysse's knuckles, almost like a caress.
Shrugging, Ulysse looks back down at their hands and lets Rook keep hold of the one while the free one resumes cleaning up around the broken nails. "Unfortunately for you, I tend to care about those I employ," he explains. "You don't get a say in how I feel about the people around me."
There's a hint of a quirk at the corners of Rook's lips at the sassy reply. Amusement there and then gone. There's something about this man...
"True," he replies quietly but leaves it at that, not an agreement or a disagreement. He's thinking about it while he studies Ulysse's down-turned face, his clean features and thick lashes.
Ulysse smiles a bit, too, and doesn't lift his gaze as he goes onto the other hand, as meticulously careful as he'd been with the first. Then he asks, "Is that going to be a problem for you? I could promise to glare at you here and there if that would make you feel better."
Rook watches him work, quiet and patient. He doesn't hurry the man up even once, simply watches him process his way through the crooked fingers that probably have never had this much care given to them before.
His lips quirk again at the comment and he points out, "I didn't agree yet." Except he kind of did. Silently so, which he sort of assumes Ulysse figured out, too.
"You didn't reject it yet, either," he points out with a small smile of his own. "Not tonight, at least, and you've had plenty of time to say as much."
With both hands properly tended to, he holds them in his and lifts his gaze at last, staring into Rook's eyes, quietly taking in the calm air that's still emanating from the fighter. The faint amusement is there, too, and it gives Ulysse hope.
"Should I ask you again?" he asks lightly. "Or would you like to take time again to decide?"
It's barely the second time Rook meets this man and yet, there's something about him that feels right. He doesn't usually sit around holding anyone's hand like this, let alone gazing into their eyes for prolonged moments.
Their very pretty eyes.
He lets out a soft snort eventually and squeezes Ulysse's hands. "Nah, we're good. I'll help you." As long as Ulysse knows what he's asking for is the thing.
Ulysse's hands tighten briefly around Rook's and he actually feels his legs go weak for an instant, but he gathers himself up immediately, smiling broader than he had before as he bows his head. "Thank you. Really."
He carefully releases the hands and looks to Rook's face, gathering up some iodine on a cotton ball to gently apply to the split lip, thumb holding it down in the process. He doesn't seem to realise that same thumb ends up brushing across the fighter's lips as he turns away to get the sanitised wipes to clean the blood from his chin. Ulysse is just too relieved that Rook's accepted the job offer, that there might be some (tenuous) peace to their nights, to pay attention to what his body might be doing when allowed to do as it pleases at least a little.
Rook goes quiet as there is an elegant hand on his face, Ulysse's fingers lightly touching the underside of his chin while he presses his thumb to the lip he's cleaning. He can't seem to look away from the man while he's doing this, simply staring levelly at Ulysse's face, watching how his mouth tightens and slackens as he focuses, unconscious twitches to his brows, a sensuous sweep of long lashes against his cheeks.
He hasn't paid this much attention to anyone since the accident. Doubtful he's done so before that either. It's with surprise that he notes that his breath is getting a little shorter, a little bit of nervous tightness marking itself at the pit of his stomach.
Then the finger sweeps across his lips and he ends up shivering just a little, his lids dipping. When Ulysse turns back towards him, he'll find the look in those pale eyes different, sharper maybe, with keener interest. Rook says nothing still, though, doesn't move.
While he'd been able to concentrate rather well on his task, as soon as Ulysse makes the mistake of looking up to see how Rook's feeling about all this, he freezes like a deer in headlights, breath catching in his throat as he's faced with that sharp stare.
He's no stranger to lust. He's used to being stared at with as much, knows to take advantage of it sometimes but somehow this is different. It's not a demanding or begging sort of stare, almost as if Rook's not entirely sure what to make of it himself, but isn't anxious about it either. Maybe Ulysse is just feeling grateful for the timely rescue and that's what's making him respond so strongly...
He's so confused.
Wetting his lips, he looks away and drops his hands, pushing down that sudden surge of desire as he asks, "Do you want to take a look at the contract I wrote up?" Yes, he'd been hopeful enough to get one drafted while waiting to hear back from Rook.
Rook doesn't look away when Ulysse freezes up to stare at him. He meets the man's gaze steadily, quietly. He makes absolutely no move towards him. Even as he glimpses something that might be interest, might just be shock too.
He isn't going to act upon it. It's not his place to do so. But he's not going to hide the interest either. That's just not him.
So, when Ulysse looks away, he mentally nods as if he had gotten some sort of answer from the man. One he had expected too.
"Sure," he says just as the open to the office flies open and a cop stands at the doorway. He seems surprised for a moment, then anxious, looking Ulysse up and down as he walks in.
"Are you okay?" Sean asks. "I came as quickly as I could but seems like the situation already passed. Were you hurt?"
A boyfriend then, Rook thinks to himself and starts standing up.
The spell between them is broken and Ulysse looks to Sean, a faint, tired smile briefly crossing his face as he shakes his head. "I'm fine," he answers. "Thanks to our new bouncer."
He gestures to Rook, introducing, "Sean, this is Rook Bishop. Rook, Sean Brennan, the one good policeman you can count on in this town."
While the two size each other up, Ulysse rifles through his drawers and pulls out the contract he'd drawn up for Rook, passing it to him. "Here, have a read through that, and if you've got any concerns or changes you think should be made, let's discuss it tomorrow," he says. "I'll be here from about 2 in the afternoon, so you can come whenever during then if you'd prefer not to call."
Sean seems happy about the news, smiling brightly at Rook. Then the asshole presents a hand and proceeds to shake his with a rather happy-go-lucky grin on his face.
"That's great! Welcome to our neck of the woods. You've got your hands full, which I'm sure you already know about."
Rook disengages with a mellow nod. "We'll survive," he says and takes the contract from Ulysse. "I'll be here tomorrow." Then he slinks around Sean towards the door, leaving the two at their business.
Sean is already stepping closer, peering at Ulysse's bruised throat and frowning at it. "Are you sure you're okay?" he murmurs quietly.
"I'm fine, you know I've had worse-" Ulysse huffs, though he tips his head back for Sean to take a better look at it.
"Good night, Rook!" comes the call through the door as the fighter leaves, and then he's refocusing on Sean with a tired but fondly murmured, "Where were you when I was getting choked out, hmm? It's not like you to miss out on all the fun."
Rook doesn't answer, he waves his hand instead. There's a small, curious frown upon his brow as he listens to the warmth of Ulysse's voice as he talks with Sean.
He doesn't see how Sean gently slides his hand under Ulysse's jaw and tilts his head back, his hand careful as he strokes his fingers over the bruises.
"Don't even joke about that," he responds, his tone just as warm and familiar, intimate even. Rook doesn't need to see him as he jogs down the stairs to know that Sean is looking at Ulysse with worry and affection in those spaniel eyes of his. "I'm sorry, babe. I came as quickly as I could."
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However, he is being far too queasy about it.
"This is part of it," he says quietly. His voice doesn't quiver, his hand doesn't tremble as the disinfectant is applied. And it does sting, he's just used to pain. "You understand that, don't you?"
Violence doesn't come without consequences.
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"And?" he asks, not stopping until he's wrapped up the steady hand, and then he lifts his gaze to stare almost defiantly back at Rook. "Does that mean I should be happy about this?"
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"Did you look me up?" he asks then.
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Ulysse stares a moment longer before sighing and resuming his work on Rook's hand, now addressing the broken nails and cleaning up the dried blood from the long digits. "I did," he says, calm once more. "You're good."
And yes, he'd seen the articles about the Incident, had even watched a clip of it, the court case that followed, and so on.
"My offer still stands."
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Lets put it on the table. He also stills Ulysse's hands but taking a hold of one of them, waiting until the man looks up at him.
"I'm not going to work for you unless you're making that offer with full understanding of what I am and what I'm capable of. I did not go into that ring thinking I'm going to kill someone, but that's what happened."
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"You've seen how it gets in here," Ulysse points out, letting his hands still as Rook holds one. "If it takes a killer to keep those dogs at bay, so be it."
Then he pauses and his gaze softens, his hand turning to hold Rook's rather than simply tolerating being stopped from his work. "But I don't think you're a killer, anyway. By all accounts, what happened with you was an accident."
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"You shouldn't care about me," he says then, voice quiet but serious. "If we're going to do this, you really should not care about me."
His bandaged fingers tighten lightly around Ulysse's, warm skin, medical tape, the scent of disinfectant, then a completely unconscious brush of the fighter's thumb over Ulysse's knuckles, almost like a caress.
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Shrugging, Ulysse looks back down at their hands and lets Rook keep hold of the one while the free one resumes cleaning up around the broken nails. "Unfortunately for you, I tend to care about those I employ," he explains. "You don't get a say in how I feel about the people around me."
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"True," he replies quietly but leaves it at that, not an agreement or a disagreement. He's thinking about it while he studies Ulysse's down-turned face, his clean features and thick lashes.
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Ulysse smiles a bit, too, and doesn't lift his gaze as he goes onto the other hand, as meticulously careful as he'd been with the first. Then he asks, "Is that going to be a problem for you? I could promise to glare at you here and there if that would make you feel better."
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His lips quirk again at the comment and he points out, "I didn't agree yet." Except he kind of did. Silently so, which he sort of assumes Ulysse figured out, too.
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"You didn't reject it yet, either," he points out with a small smile of his own. "Not tonight, at least, and you've had plenty of time to say as much."
With both hands properly tended to, he holds them in his and lifts his gaze at last, staring into Rook's eyes, quietly taking in the calm air that's still emanating from the fighter. The faint amusement is there, too, and it gives Ulysse hope.
"Should I ask you again?" he asks lightly. "Or would you like to take time again to decide?"
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Their very pretty eyes.
He lets out a soft snort eventually and squeezes Ulysse's hands. "Nah, we're good. I'll help you." As long as Ulysse knows what he's asking for is the thing.
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Ulysse's hands tighten briefly around Rook's and he actually feels his legs go weak for an instant, but he gathers himself up immediately, smiling broader than he had before as he bows his head. "Thank you. Really."
He carefully releases the hands and looks to Rook's face, gathering up some iodine on a cotton ball to gently apply to the split lip, thumb holding it down in the process. He doesn't seem to realise that same thumb ends up brushing across the fighter's lips as he turns away to get the sanitised wipes to clean the blood from his chin. Ulysse is just too relieved that Rook's accepted the job offer, that there might be some (tenuous) peace to their nights, to pay attention to what his body might be doing when allowed to do as it pleases at least a little.
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He hasn't paid this much attention to anyone since the accident. Doubtful he's done so before that either. It's with surprise that he notes that his breath is getting a little shorter, a little bit of nervous tightness marking itself at the pit of his stomach.
Then the finger sweeps across his lips and he ends up shivering just a little, his lids dipping. When Ulysse turns back towards him, he'll find the look in those pale eyes different, sharper maybe, with keener interest. Rook says nothing still, though, doesn't move.
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While he'd been able to concentrate rather well on his task, as soon as Ulysse makes the mistake of looking up to see how Rook's feeling about all this, he freezes like a deer in headlights, breath catching in his throat as he's faced with that sharp stare.
He's no stranger to lust. He's used to being stared at with as much, knows to take advantage of it sometimes but somehow this is different. It's not a demanding or begging sort of stare, almost as if Rook's not entirely sure what to make of it himself, but isn't anxious about it either. Maybe Ulysse is just feeling grateful for the timely rescue and that's what's making him respond so strongly...
He's so confused.
Wetting his lips, he looks away and drops his hands, pushing down that sudden surge of desire as he asks, "Do you want to take a look at the contract I wrote up?" Yes, he'd been hopeful enough to get one drafted while waiting to hear back from Rook.
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He isn't going to act upon it. It's not his place to do so. But he's not going to hide the interest either. That's just not him.
So, when Ulysse looks away, he mentally nods as if he had gotten some sort of answer from the man. One he had expected too.
"Sure," he says just as the open to the office flies open and a cop stands at the doorway. He seems surprised for a moment, then anxious, looking Ulysse up and down as he walks in.
"Are you okay?" Sean asks. "I came as quickly as I could but seems like the situation already passed. Were you hurt?"
A boyfriend then, Rook thinks to himself and starts standing up.
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The spell between them is broken and Ulysse looks to Sean, a faint, tired smile briefly crossing his face as he shakes his head. "I'm fine," he answers. "Thanks to our new bouncer."
He gestures to Rook, introducing, "Sean, this is Rook Bishop. Rook, Sean Brennan, the one good policeman you can count on in this town."
While the two size each other up, Ulysse rifles through his drawers and pulls out the contract he'd drawn up for Rook, passing it to him. "Here, have a read through that, and if you've got any concerns or changes you think should be made, let's discuss it tomorrow," he says. "I'll be here from about 2 in the afternoon, so you can come whenever during then if you'd prefer not to call."
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"That's great! Welcome to our neck of the woods. You've got your hands full, which I'm sure you already know about."
Rook disengages with a mellow nod. "We'll survive," he says and takes the contract from Ulysse. "I'll be here tomorrow." Then he slinks around Sean towards the door, leaving the two at their business.
Sean is already stepping closer, peering at Ulysse's bruised throat and frowning at it. "Are you sure you're okay?" he murmurs quietly.
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"I'm fine, you know I've had worse-" Ulysse huffs, though he tips his head back for Sean to take a better look at it.
"Good night, Rook!" comes the call through the door as the fighter leaves, and then he's refocusing on Sean with a tired but fondly murmured, "Where were you when I was getting choked out, hmm? It's not like you to miss out on all the fun."
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He doesn't see how Sean gently slides his hand under Ulysse's jaw and tilts his head back, his hand careful as he strokes his fingers over the bruises.
"Don't even joke about that," he responds, his tone just as warm and familiar, intimate even. Rook doesn't need to see him as he jogs down the stairs to know that Sean is looking at Ulysse with worry and affection in those spaniel eyes of his. "I'm sorry, babe. I came as quickly as I could."
Definitely a boyfriend.