Chapter Text
Soft lights hung low between the trees of the convalescence garden, glowing softly in the warm evening air, rocking with the gentle, floral-scented caresses of a languid, lazy breeze. The light fell gently on the stone paths, mixing in a slow swirl with the low chatter of conversation and dulcet tones of the band. Irene rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers, watching the light play over its golden ripples before sighing and letting her gaze trail back over the gathering she lingered on the edge of.
For a recommissioned mining rig, Rhodes Island sure could clean up nicely.
She scanned over the assembled partygoers, trying to take everything in: operators shedding their combat attire for more appropriate wear of blazers and black dresses, pressed slacks and thigh-slit skirts. Altogether a far more visually relaxed, if perhaps more enticing, group than they usually portrayed. She had been surprised to see Jordi up on the small raised platform with the other musicians, but her voice was holding its own, supported by a beautiful dark-haired Lupo on bass and a small, curly-horned Caprinae with a saxophone.
No matter how often she tried to look elsewhere, study her environment or focus on her drink or take in the sights of unfamiliar operators, her gaze constantly, consistently, returned to the center of the gathering; to the small area cleared around the garden’s fountain, and the people dancing there.
Despite her frequent… entanglements, with Skadi, and Laurentina, and Andreana, Irene still found Gladiia something of an enigma. She hadn’t had much occasion to interact with Gladiia; updates from the Iberian coastline the only useful information she had to pass on. Gladiia was polite, sure, follow-up questions drawing on Irene’s experience and opinion, but still largely aloof. Distant. And now, watching the Hunters’ Captain effortlessly lead Kal’tsit in a slow, intimate dance, that feeling of distance, of a lack of understanding, only grew.
She definitely understood their fascination with her, however.
Gladiia moved with a grace that looked almost unnatural; her movements as sure and fluid as if they’d been scripted, but somehow still responding perfectly to every improvisation the band made. Gone was the tight, focused line of her mouth that Irene had seen on the Stultifera Navis, the tension around her eyes softened to something almost human. The music breathed and she drew Kal’tsit close, hand slipping from waist to the small of her back, and Irene caught herself leaning forward in anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but something compelled her to not miss a single moment. She needed to see this; needed to take in this side of the stoic Hunter as she needed breath.
An upbeat from the bass and Gladiia was moving again, stepping through Kal’tsit and turning, their hands coming together before them as they stepped into the new beat.
“She’s really something, hm?”
Irene recognized the voice seconds after she’d already jumped a mile, thankfully avoiding her dress with the half of her drink spilled before she regained her composure.
Laurentina pressed into her side in apology, comforting despite her muffled snort of laughter. “Sorry, birdie,” she said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “you were so enraptured, I couldn’t help myself.”
Irene smoothed her dress out with a sigh, a fond smile crossing her lips despite herself. “I really should be more used to it by now, shouldn’t I?”
“You should!” Laurentina grinned, playful with the dangerous points of her teeth, “but don’t think I don’t see you dodging the question, little bird.”
“Insistent, aren’t you?” Irene sighed again, helplessly fond. She really was losing her touch. “She really is…”
Laurentina’s eyebrows shot up. Fuck.
“Ha! You almost sound like Cuttlefish when she first joined us, all moony over the Captain.”
“I- It’s-,” Irene felt her flush rise to her ears. “I’m not mooning!”
Laurentina laughed, sharp and beautiful. “There’s no shame in it, pretty bird!” She mimicked Irene’s pose, planting her elbow and resting her chin in her hands, “She’s something else, truly.”
Irene sighed, wondering at her newfound lack of restraint as she allowed herself a pout. “She is.”
“Why the long face then, birdie? A beautiful display of skill and an ass like that and you’re looking down?”
Irene sighed again, put-upon despite the flush tickling her ears. It was true, Gladiia’s- her pants were very flattering. “It sounds childish.”
“Nonsense, darling.” Laurentina nudged her side, intentionally gentle. “Allow yourself some grace.”
“I don’t think she likes me.”
Laurentina bit her lip to muffle a snort.
“Hey!”
A warm hand found her hip, Laurentina giving her a squeeze as she brushed a bead of blood off her lip with her thumb, her caudal fin tracing up Irene’s calf. “Don’t get all prickly now, birdie. If she shows you enough to indicate that,” she tipped Irene a wink, red smeared at the corner of her smirk, “it usually means the opposite.”
“What do you mea-”
Laurentina’s face lit up. “Speak of the devil!”
“No, wait-”
“Hey, Captain!”
“Waah-” Irene vocalized as a firm push sent her stumbling forward.
Gladiia caught her, hand on her waist steadying Irene against her chest, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow over Irene’s shoulder at Laurentina.
Laurentina, ever unrepentant, just made a shooing motion at them. “Go on! The dance floor calls!” She plucked the glass out of a returning Skadi’s hand, leaning back into her wife’s shoulder and giving Irene a playful wave as she consigned her to the deep.
Irene watched as Gladiia’s nostrils flared, a deep breath out the nose; the most apparent sign of displeasure she’d ever seen from the stoic woman. She was fully prepared for a sound rejection when Gladiia stepped back, only for her heart to catch in her throat as the tall, aloof Captain of the Abyssal Hunters gave her a short, fluid bow.
“Well then, Miss Irene.” Gladiia offered her hand, and Irene could swear she saw a whisper of anticipation in the corners of her eyes, in the tightening of her lips. “May I ask for a dance?”
Irene stepped forward, breathless, and took her hand.