Welcome to Gaia! ::

Brad was a grown man. He could handle the ridicule, the lies, the rumors, the slander, the deceit...he'd worked in less favorable circumstances, and he wasn't about to be ruffled by mere words. In fact, one of the man's greater traits was his lack of inclination to express anything through verbal means (which is probably why he was so amazed by Niff), choosing instead to communicate through expression and actions. Words were meaningless, and anything said could easily be rolled off his shoulders and forgotten. Words were only words, and held no real value to him without something more to back them up.

Somehow, between JJ's words, Searan's words, Ferdinand's...everyone, really...he'd been bound by words. His job had become a snake's nest of words, a spider's web of catch and release, and it was not something he was very adept in. No, each person had been trying to reach him through words, and because the words were starting to amount to something he could damn near touch, he decided it was time to handle the issue and address the source of his problem. His own words seemed to have meant more to someone.

Which was why he now stood in front of Coyote's room, his brow pressed lightly against the door. Part of coming here was to not be here as a Host, but as himself; the problem with that was the whole 'lack of words' thing, and it was somewhat important that he didn't screw this up too badly. For his sanity.

Exhaling with annoyance, he righted himself and smoothed his non-dress button up shirt. He hoped that appearing without the Host regalia would help with his means. Lifting a hand, his knuckles rapped politely against the door, signaling the start of what would probably end in a mess of ledgers.

Let the games begin, he thought to himsef with bitter amusement before pushing open the door.

His indigo eyes swept over the office briefly, before resting directly onto Coyote. The young man looked tired, which meant this would either be a lot easier than anticipated, or that he wouldn't make it out alive. Carefully closing the door behind himself, he took a few steps into the office and gazed at the blue-haired man, his face devoid of any defined emotion. Crossing his arms over his chest in an old habit, he rumbled, "Hello, Coyote."

It seemed appropriate, a simple greeting. In a way, it was the first time they'd really met...and Brad wasn't entirely sure Coyote was going to like the man standing in his office. It was possible that it would be the best for the young man, but it would be hard to tell if he didn't get down to business of why he was here in the first place. "You have a moment?" he inquired, unmoving from his current position.

"It's Brad. And I'd prefer to speak to you as such, not the Host you so eloquently try to beat to death on a daily basis." His words held no malice or teasing, simply as though he was correcting a person on the pronounciation of a name. The man uncrossed his arms long enough to close the distance between himself and the nearest chair, taking it without invitation. If he waited for Coyote to be hospitable, well, he'd surely die of old age first.

He smoothed his jeans in another old habit, although his indigo eyes remained on the young man's face. "I just want to talk." He paused, considering his words; that wasn't entirely accurage or fair. "No, actually, I'd rather you talk. With your mouth, not your ledgers." Brad finally took a moment to look around again, noting where anything that could be heaved at him may be. He also had to account for what he couldn't see under the desk. It was like preparing for war, only this was of the psychological kind.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed the young man. "So. Tell me how much you hate me, ask me anything...your precious Host isn't here right now." It was hard to tell, but there may have been an edge of warning in his words. If Coyote didn't want honesty, he definitely would not like the man sitting in front of him.

"I'm not leaving this office until you're purged of me or we have an understanding." His voice was mild again, but was distinctly matter-of-fact. He would not leave. He would not be chased off. And because he had Coyote in his own retreat, the other could not run anywhere that he could not follow. Wolf in sheeps clothing? Very much.

Now it was time to get to the nitty-gritty, and he was mentally tensing for things to be hurled at him. "What is it about the Host that you love, then? Perhaps if I tear myself apart, or the part of me that you 'don't hate,' we can make this easier." He leaned forward on the desk, continuing to stare at Coyote. "I don't want you as an enemy, Cai. Least of all for doing what I do."

But...there was a snag in this. As he was, Brad could not ignore all issues addressed. As a Host, he could, but not like this. "What would you like me to do, then?" He tilted his head, still unsmiling. "Flirt with you? Hug you? Kiss you? What is it that you expect of me?" He didn't mention that he had no way of knowing Coyote was attracted to men...although he was quickly finding that most of the men here were of that orientation. Not that he was any better, but that was neither here nor there.

Brad leaned back again, momentarily content. "Being honest with yourself...with me, is a good start." He was quiet for a moment, watching the other rub his temples, considering what to approach next. With a quiet sigh, he stood, moving around the desk towards Coyote. "You say that I didn't feel anything for you in return. It's true. I can't feel anything for someone who hides himself, as hypocritical as that sounds." He stopped behind the young man, placing his rough hands over the other's shoulders. Gently, he rolled his fingers around Coyote's muscles as if giving a light massage.

"All I know," he continued in a quiet baritone, "is what you tell me. If you're trying to break my skull at every turn, that's not telling me you want anything from me but my blood. However..." Brad looked to the side, not liking to be so open but not able to afford anything otherwise. "How old are you, Cai, early twenties? You shouldn't be fawning over someone like me. I already said that, but it's the truth. I'm an old man set in his ways, I'm not used to good looking youngin's chasing after me."

There. He'd covered the majority of what he had wanted to say, even with a bit of lightness, but the consequences of his words were what he was uncertain of. He hated having to be like this and rely on words, but it was all he had until the ledgers started being chucked.

Brad couldn't help but chuckle, more like a rumbling in his chest, at the sudden questions he was pelted with. So the source of tension had been revealed! Lifting his thumb to gently hold Coyote's hand, he considered the questions before answering. "Something like that." Ah, answer of the century!

"Your height has nothing to do with anything," he dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. "I don't know you well enought to say if you're immature or not. But...yes, you are quite young." There was a small bit of hesitation on his part. It was strange, to think he was insulting someone by saying they were young. "You sound like Searan," he grunted, before saying more loudly, "There is a degree of...'cradle robbing,' as you put it. It's like a mental block, if you will. I've just...never even considered someone ten years my junior as a possible partner." He shrugged a little, hands still on Coyote's shoulders, adding, "Besides. Love isn't blind. Love sees everything, that's why it's called love.

But, more than that...I have a job to do, and I have a feeling that it would hurt you to watch me do it. Why would you want to put yourself through that?" The man had likely talked more now in this office than he had the whole year. He felt like he was being tied by his decisions, but they were his to make. Even if there was a compromise...even if feelings did get involved...Brad still had a job to do that Coyote did not approve of.

If only this man was but a little older, Brad would have been more than happy to give Coyote everything he wanted. His words were sweet, but the Italian still wasn't sure that the other realized that the man he was looking at likely didn't have any qualities of the Host that he was in love with. He took a deep breath through his nose, knowing there was no kind or easy way to say what needed to be said.

"Coyote." It didn't matter if it wasn't easy; it had to be done. He lowered himself to his knees so that he wasn't lumbering over the other man. "This is me. This unyielding brute with little manners, this is me. I do dance a little. I prefer to be alone and design. I've no sense of flirting, and I really do dislike alcohol. I'm not the honeyed man that I have to be to succeed." He allowed his hand to be held, drawing his thumb over Coyote's cheek. "I know nothing about you, but I do know I'm not going to damn you to a life of hiding and days of being miserable for a few hours of possible happiness. It's not fair to you, and that would be horribly stressful for me. I can't walk on eggshells."

This was not easy for Brad. Talking about himself was not something he was good at, not in earnest. Talking about others, things other people liked, it was easier, which is why being a Host was simpler. But it was coming with a few extra strings he hadn't anticipated.