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These are the kinds of nights Gustavain has always liked the best.

The Carline Canopy isn't standing room only, not overly crowded, but there are enough people to make an appreciative audience and to make a little noise for a good show. It's just late enough in the evening that things haven't yet gotten raucous, but it's obvious they're going to. Someone's already bought him a drink or two and he's got some other bards to share the load with or to play opposite, but there's not so many clamoring for attention that his own star can't shine a little.

It's been a bit of a long week-- he's been trying to do some little odd jobs here and there out in the Shroud, mostly hunting and helping to curb some minor Ixali issues, and while he enjoys the work and is finding a natural aptitude for it, his fingers ache now from lance shafts and bowstrings alike. Luckily while there's some similarities in some ways, he's able to compensate for the sorest of his fingers with the violin, though it certainly also makes them a different sort of sore in the process. His best instrument has always been the one he was born with anyway, and with other bards happier to play things like the flute, it's easing into a lovely night, just what he needs to relax.

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The arrival in Gridania is eye-opening in a way Opal hadn't expected; he has been out of the Wood for not quite half a year, and naturally missed it, and assumed the wooded Shroud would bring that ache to the forefront. However, stepping into it for the first he time he truly realizes how far from home he is. The woods here are more temperate than the jungle he grew up in, the crisp air flowing through the leaves more reminiscent of the docks of Limsa than his village. It does not make him more homesick, but it does not necessarily ease it, other than a revived spark of curiosity, the insatiable learner in him once again realizing how much more there is in this world to see.

But, he likely shouldn't linger too long without getting down to it, so he makes his way towards the Lotus Stand to deliver the missive and meet with the Elder Seedseer, who thankfully seems quite open to the idea. By the time they are finished, it is getting late, and while he could wait for the next airship, there is no rush to move on so quickly, and Baderon had mentioned his other city 'counterparts.' So he makes his way down to the Carline Canopy, balking a little at the crowd within (it's certainly not as raucous as the Drowning Wench can get, but he's aware how out of place he is anywhere and Limsans at least aren't surprised by him anymore). Still, his curiosity wins out and he quietly slips in, managing to draw very little attention to himself. It seems he has the bards to thank for that, and he can see why, as the stage and its occupants become the new object for his study.

Gustavain isn't bad looking, but he's certainly not the most attractive man even at the Canopy tonight. What he has instead is an instant charisma, a way of looking at someone as though they were the only person in the room, a smile that makes people's lips twitch to smile along with him. He's likeable, instantly, just one of those people who's personality shines.

Oddly, it's somehow worse when he's ceding the floor to someone else as he is now, a purity of intention and spirit that makes itself known even more when he's not the center of attention. He's back to back on a pair of barstools with another bard, one leg half cocked up on the middle bar of the stool in a way that reveals just the barest glimpse of skin between the top of his Ishgardian-style thighboots and the bottom of his more Gridanian tunic, dyed a deep, cool blue. The other bard is woo-ing a maiden in the front row with song, Gustavain providing the accompaniment and something the other bard says, low, between the verses, makes him throw back his head on his shoulder and laugh. He's absolutely beautiful, then, in his element and almost unaware of the rest of the world.

And yet, part of what buoys him in that moment, makes him laugh so freely and without a care, is that he knows he's not sleeping alone tonight. It's just something he can feel about the evening, the way things are going, the air of the place. Tumbling into bed is going to be easy and that also hasn't been true in the last week and he can feel the release of that tension already.

He's not sure who yet, though he's definitely not discounting the likelihood that he will also get to reap the other bard's good fortune if he's successful-- it's a dance they've done more than once. He doesn't look while he plays, doesn't like the distraction, so he doesn't notice Opal until the set is done and the other bard is now playfully and dramatically fallen into the lap of his maiden and he's taking his bows and headed off the stage.

Even then, the first thought is merely to belly up to the bar and call for another ale, before he'll even consider turning and looking over the crowd. Plenty of time for an ambush if someone was so inclined, but time enough later if not.

Gustavain is intriguing, if nothing else, Opal watching the rest of the performance with interest. Such open charisma is captivating, all the more so since he feels like a complete fish out of water who barely knows which way is up.

Still, he's hardly the type to rush the man for an introduction; years of isolation in the Wood require a bit more building up of some sort of social plan for that. So he instead first makes his way to Mother Miounne to introduce himself. And perhaps it is in that pursuit that he'll be spotted, weaving his way through the crowd without needing to jostle anyone, feet so light one might be forgiven for thinking he didn't touch the ground. He does get some notice now, can feel the curious eyes on him (and his ears in particular), but he does his best to ignore them as he reaches his goal. The proprietress knows him already, pleased to meet him, and tells him to go get himself a drink on the house and enjoy himself before he has to head back to give Baderon her regards.

Which means he does wind up moving in the vibrant bard's direction, though as he twists through the crowd he still hasn't decided if he's going to actually say anything.

They end up with their pints at roughly the same time and when Gustavain laughs at that and turns to his momentary companion to offer a toast, he blinks in surprise instead. He recovers fast enough, but there's no hiding that he definitely isn't expecting to see a Viera here, and a male one at that. He stares in shocked silence a bit too long to really be polite, but then he's finishing the toast smoothly as though nothing had interrupted it, with a grin and a wink,

"Good to see a new face around here," he says, loud enough to be heard easily but very much just for the two for them, "To your health, and the success of whatever venture you're currently on," he toasts.

(The fact that he can identify him as male will be surprise enough; most people just assume he’s female, many of them not knowing Viera can be male. He has questions for those people.)

Opal waits politely for him to get over it, this being a far too often occurrence and only getting worse with notoriety under his name. The grin and wink earns Gustavain a small smile- not shy exactly, more measured than anything. “Thank you,” he says, his voice very much not aiming to project but still cutting through the noise clear as a bell, “To yours as well.” He takes a small sip of the beverage, eyes closing for a moment in what is something of a ritual for him: taking a moment to exclude sight and its demanding priority to take in the other senses of the scene around him, the sounds and smells and feel>/i> of it all. Somewhat surprisingly, it is still the man in front of him that stands out most of all.

(While his experience is admittedly limited, he's never yet seen a Viera woman without her... natural assets on distractingly full display. Opal is very obviously not busty and Gustavain is from a race himself that doesn't have very much differentiating the males from the females, so it's a bit easier maybe for him than say, an Au Ra.

But mostly it's the boobs.)

He shines bright, somehow, even with Opal's eyes closed, a warmth about him that's palpable. Whether Opal can pick it out in the press of humanity, he even smells good, warm again and masculine despite the more delicate features.

"I should hope I do half so well as you've been," he quips in response to the Viera's half of the toast, "Unless there are two Viera adventurers making a name for themselves in Gridania, and I hear the rest of Eorzea besides."

Opal blinks, a bit of surprise peaking through his otherwise rather stoic expression. “Ah— I did not think… that is, I have hardly done much.” He’s only been in Gridania a few hours, and yes he’s stopped to solve a number of small problems in that time and also met the Elder Seedseer, but surely that is not enough to be considered making a name for himself? (It is, it definitely is, he just doesn’t know how to feel about.)

Gustavain can't help but smile to that,

"Ah, you've a lovely blush," he teases, more picking up on the humility and confusion than actually seeing a real blush, "Perhaps I'm better connected in Limsa Lominsa than I thought. But you've been making quite the name for yourself, for those who care to listen."

Oh, this is reminding Opal of how very bad at City interactions he still is. The tease he thinks is a flirt, which does not bother him in the slightest, just the fact that he's not entirely sure it is. He is a walking ball of social anxiety half of the time and has merely used the stoicism from his Warden training to cover for it; he does not think his sisters were half as reluctant to speak their mind as most people here. Perhaps Gustavain, having teased so early, will be more straightforward with his speech?

"Well, thank you." He thinks that's the right response. He doesn't entirely know. "...What is your name?" And no, he doesn't know if he should lead with his since the man apparently already knows of him.

"Gustavain," he replies with a little bow, "at your service. And I'm presuming you're Opal, though if there's another way you'd prefer to be referred to, now's the time," he takes a sip of his ale, doesn't savor it quite like Opal had, but definitely enjoys that first sip plenty.

"Which one of the hundreds of issues Gridania seems plagued with these days are you here to see about?"

Opal just nods; he's still somewhat adjusting to this name, he can't imagine trying to handle anything else.

"The Admiral wished a message to be delivered to the Elder Seedseer," he says simply, sure enough that the contents would be divulged soon enough as everyone seemed pleased enough with the idea. Of course, in making his way over there he found a number of other small problems he helped deal with, but that wasn't why he was here. ...Though he supposes saying nothing more will make him an exceptionally poor conversation partner.

Even when he speaks again, though, it is very clear that he is not the kind of person who speaks for no reasons, even in small talk weighing his words with a careful, quiet thought. "I have not been to the Shroud before," he says, sparing a glance towards the crowd around them; curious that the different city-states have such different racial populations, despite being so close, "It is... different than I expected."

He laughs at the first, disbelieving,

"Ah yes, a message from the Admiral to the Elder Seedseer was to be delivered and you the delivery boy. Hardly done much, indeed," he says with a small snort, "As though such an honor were handed out daily to the masses," he takes another sip of his ale, jovial and more than willing to keep the conversation going, at least until it's his turn to play again.

At the second, though, he leans in. It's not his intention to be intimate but he does not wish to be overheard,

"Gridania, I have been told, is rough on outsiders. What I saw didn't seem that bad, but I've been assured I was treated poorly at first, and I could pass as Gridanian where you have no such ability. Watch your back at least somewhat while you are here, my friend. Mother Miounne can be trusted without question, but some of the rest of them..." he shakes his head, leaning back, "But don't let that be a grim warning, either. If nothing else, the Canopy is always home to plenty of adventurers."

Opal wants to protest, because he's still not entirely sure why he of all people was sent to deliver the message, but it was still just a message delivery, and not anything all that sensitive in nature from the sound of it. But he will just let it pass with a small tilt of his head, an acknowledgement to Gustavain's point.

He does not shy away from the lean in, listening carefully to the warning with a small nod. "It cannot be as poor a welcome as any Wood would give," he says, and though the delivery is straight there is a small quirk of a smile- which may only make sense if Gustavain knows that Viera in their Wood tend to shoot first and ask questions later, "but I thank you for the warning." It is not necessarily needed, he is surrounded by pirates most days and you do not exactly let your guard down around them either, but the fact that Gustavain would seek to warn him is... reassuring.

"Nor Ishgard," he says with a small sigh and another sip of his ale, which marks where he's from more cleanly if his accent hadn't already given him away. "Still. Best to be prepared all the same." He can see the other bard beckoning him back over to continue and he waves back for another moment. Ah well, he can do better than a line like this, but he doesn't have enough time,

"I'd offer to show you around and help you out, but I'm afraid I'd be seen as having ulterior motives when I inevitably try to take you home with me later tonight, so perhaps it's better if you find your own way," he winks, "Enjoy the show," and then he's gone back through the crowd towards the stage.

He doesn't really expect he'll end up taking the adventurer of the hour to bed tonight, but hey, a little optimism never hurt anyway.

Oh. Oh good. He is straightforward.

He doesn't really have the chance to reply, watching the man make his way back to the stage, mulling over the more or less blatant offer with another sip. There would certainly be worse ways to spend his evening...

Which is how, should Gustavain look out to the crowd again, he'll see the Viera in more or less the same place, clearly not planning to go anywhere.

He doesn't necessarily think that means Opal is amenable, though it does at least mean he's not offended. Not that it would have stopped him from flirting, but he didn't do it without a thought of offense, at least. He does maybe hedge his bets by meeting Opal's eyes a few times in some tamer songs and then straight up singing a verse of the more bawdy ones straight to him, as the night grows darker and the mood descends into such things. He's grinning as he does it, though, lets it be lighthearted, a tease more than something he intends to seriously pursue.

He does mean to pursue it, of course, but there's a bit of a delicate dance to be done here-- he doesn't want to be seen as being irritatingly forward.

Opal returns the gaze, though given that he's in the audience it's hard not to, and he chuckles at the one bawdy verse. It is lighthearted on his end as well- he has picked up that such things tend to have more meaning to people here, clearly different from a duty to mate and the desire for the pleasure of it often looked down upon, but those meanings don't really matter all that much to him. And there is something about Gustavain, not quite familiar but more like a kindred spirit, even though it is clear already that there are vast differences between them.

He will wait until the man's eventual return, giving him a small smile in greeting. "You are very good," he says, and as someone who doesn't say something without reason, it's clear he means it.

"Thank you," he says, sincerely to Opal, accepting another pint from the innkeeper with a nod as he does. "I should hope to keep getting such praise," he teases, and it's pretty clear that he's making an innuendo even without the little wink.

"It's been a fun skill to learn. I was never allowed to pursue music overmuch as a child, so it always feels good to stretch my wings a bit, as it were," he takes a long sip of the ale. "What about yourself? Any inclination to music at all?"

That little smile returns, amused as he takes another sip of his drink. He is... enjoying this.

He hums thoughtfully, and though the sound is musical itself he shakes his head. "I have not tried," he admits, "at least, not more than keeping simple rhythms or some such. I was not terrible at that, but I hardly think it is my calling, either." His voice is fair enough, but he thinks he would get distracted from any instrument learning in favor of books too quickly.

"Ah, though I did have a genuine interest in whether or not you were musically inclined, I must confess that now I fear the follow up writes itself, each potential rejoinder more crude than the last," he laughs, considers that due warning before he adds, "Perhaps I'll go with then shall I teach you to sing for me? Or perhaps would you be interested in a private performance? might be more to your liking?" he grins and then shakes his head,

"Please, feel no pressure to indulge me in such things unless you truly wish to, but do know that I do not speak in jest, either. You're lovely."

That gets Opal to laugh, and the act likely makes him all the lovelier; when the stoic mask drops, there is an undeniable vibrancy to him, a quiet vivaciousness and zeal for all this new world has to offer. He does not shine in the way Gustavain does, attracting those around him with sheer brilliance, but there is still a pull there, perhaps more akin to a magnet- a gentle tug into his orbit, and once there making it undesirable to pull away.

"You call it crude, I call it refreshingly straight-forward," he says, one of those little smiles gracing him again, "I am still adjusting to the run-around people here seem to employ instead of just asking directly."

Gustavain shrugs a bit,

"I can certainly be subtle if I wish to be, but I see little reason in these such matters. Who knows if our paths will ever cross again? There may not be another opportunity and I would not wish to lose this one by being coy," he grins, leans in a bit, clear that he's teasing, "I'd not want to miss the chance to say I managed to convince you to bed me before you were the most famous adventurer in Eorzea, after all." He straightens slightly,

"I believe that I've sang more than enough tonight to cover my supper, so now I suppose the only question is my place or yours," he chuckles. It's an interesting bit of courtesy, that he doesn't presume one or the other. Truthfully, he knows next to nothing about Viera and their customs, but he's found that typically when that is true, it's better to let the other lead in these matters.

Opal shakes his head with a smile. It is more funny to him that anything, that some people seem to assume he's going to be some great adventurer. It's not really his plan; even getting into it this much hadn't been his plan. He sort of just... winds up stumbling into things, can't ignore someone who needs help even on his worst day, but he's sure it won't be an option anymore should he manage to get to Sharlayan. Still, he doesn't push back against it, not seeing the point. Continuing to adventure would be far from the worst thing to do until he gets there.

"I do not have a 'place,'" he says with a wry smile- maybe he would have gotten a room tonight, maybe not, but it would not be the first or last time he opted to just sleep out in the wilderness. (He wouldn't mind that for a rendezvous, either, but he doubts that's what the bard has in mind.) "So I suppose you should lead the way."

Gustvain doesn't like to "rough it" when he can help it-- he gets enough of that when he can't help it, but sleeping out under the stars with a lover isn't necessarily roughing it, either.

"Well then, I hope you aren't afraid of heights," he downs his ale and hooks an arm through Opal's to lead him away with a saucy wave and a wink to the other bard he was singing with. He has a little room up in the very highest part of the inn, up above where most people sleep. It's too many ladders (read: any ladders at all) for a guest room and it's an odd little space to rent out, too small and too inaccessible for most people. And most adventurers around here were just passing through. Gustavain is an odd sort in this way, too-- indistinguishable from an adventurer in many ways, even taking levequests and odd requests, but never really showing much inclination to move on from Gridania.

He will eventually, of course, he doesn't consider this tiny room to be a permanent home, but he's walked a long road to just get here since the Calamity and he's enjoying having some small amount of roots for a bit, remembering what it was like to be part of a community.

They'll get to the rooms and the ladders in a minute, but the moment they're in the darkness of the halls, at least temporarily private, he'll tug Opal into him a bit, pull him in for a kiss that he doesn't ask or hesitate on, but does fully telegraph. It's somehow both chaste and heated, just a warm press of their mouths, nothing fancy or deep, but the way Gustavain pulls him in says that's more about not ending up making out in the hallway than it is any desire to be chaste

There is an extent to which Opal views sleeping in such closed off spaces an often unnecessary luxury, though certainly a welcome on days where the weather is more... eventful (and he will admit that that occurs more frequently here than in the Wood).

"I would be an exceptionally poor Viera if I were," he points out, amused, easily falling into step with their arms looped. If anything, it makes him all the more curious about where they're heading.

Not so curious that he's ignoring the signs of the man next to him, of course. He responds easily to the tug, like a dancer working off their partner, finding a way into the kiss with ease and returning the heat but breaking off just soon enough to make it more enticing.

Consider him enticed, then. Gustavain follows him into the space he leaves when he pulls back from the kiss, laughing delightedly at the pursuit before kissing him again. He does pull away before it can become three, though, tugging Opal along towards the stairs and then up them.

They don't get far apart again for most of the rest of the way up, another handful of warm kisses shared whenever one or the other of them (or maybe just Gus) can't wait any longer. Everything about it feels playful, Gustavain never very far from a laugh even as his own amorous advances start to become a little more serious the further they get from the likelihood that they'll be walked in on. No one stepping out of a room is going to get an unexpected eyefull of anything, but neither of their clothes are entirely without buttons popped and ties untied before they make it up.

There are a few ladders to climb, at the end, that he does let go of Opal long enough to climb, and then they're there-- to a little space at once cozy and spartan up under the eaves. Gustavain doesn't keep many mementos or spare objects-- there's a dresser and armoire, and a little chest at the foot of the bed, but there aren't any signs that there's anything here more than a typical inn room. Still, the little space manages to somehow look lived-in all the same.

Not that Opal is given much time to explore, even if he wanted to, because now that they have nowhere else to be, Gustavain deepens the next kiss hungrily.

For all that it is about to get hot and heavy, there is something joyfully light about this, and Opal finds himself smiling more than he has in weeks. It does feel like they’re just having fun together, without the weighty expectations some people put on this.

Opal nearly vaults up the ladder with the grace only someone who’s spent their life climbing up impossibly tall trees can show, but doesn’t have time to do anything other than that before being pulled into Guatavain’s embrace, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. Now assured privacy, his hands find the edges of the elezen’s shirt, playfully tugging it off his shoulders.

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