Flashback A Debt Discovered (Matthew)

[Keene Ward]

Keene blinked at Matthew's declaration of tactics, flipping through his memories in the fraction of a tick to too for him to pause and regard the man as they moved. In all of the games of chess he'd played with Bianca, she had never once blatantly stated her intentions. He'd imagined that had been the entire point of the "game", to test the opponent, to discover the manner in which they thought and to exploit that without allowing the opponent to do the same. Nothing Matthew had said prior gave Keene any indication that Matthew was lying. Setting aside the upstart that had set his mind aflurry once more, Keene let his eyes focus on the path ahead as his thoughts centered themselves around what Matthew was saying in reply, the chess game neatly stowed away in a corner of his mind where it sat quietly until he decided to come back to it.

They came to a section of the forest that required a bit more tact to navigate, and as Keene progressed, he made sure to place his feet in a manner that if he stumbled, he would be able to keep his balance, abdominal muscles tightening as he did so to maintain his center of gravity. He pondered what Matthew said, his responses requiring a more pensive silence than it seemed Matthew required. Keene found the questions odd, things that he had never really stopped to consider due to mostly a lack of interest in them. Still not quite seeing why Matthew found the line of inquiry worth pursuing, Keene saw no reason to not answer as best he could. His voice matched Matthew's in such a way that had another been listening in to their conversation, it would have been difficult to tell if it were simply Matthew answering his own question or not, though there was no intention to do so behind his tone. "An emotion is an emotion. As objective experiences, I don't understand the attribution of positive or negative. They're inconvenient." He held a branch back and allowed Matthew to pass before taking the lead once more. "The effort taken to repress seems preferable to the effort taken to express; as I said, in either case, emotions are more trouble than they're worth."

Earlier in the conversation he had said the same thing, and whether Matthew had understood or not, it was exactly what he meant. Whether or not emotions could be pushed aside indefinitely as he did or not, they seemed inescapable. To be clouded for a tick or two with marginally decreased efficiency was highly favored over the indiscriminate amount of time it took to "navigate" through the emotion itself. While it was not a perfect answer to the problem, it was the only way in which Keene knew how to deal with them. Unlike hair when it grew too long, emotions couldn't simply be lopped off to keep them from getting in the way, so he did the next best thing and ignored them. Fortunately for the young man, it seemed Matthew had finished with emotions to move on to a new subject that was, in regards to what they had just been speaking about, completely out of the blue. A quick flick through his memories for reference of any kind, however, quickly drew Keene up to speed. The dance he'd agreed to attend was not their topic of discussion.

He'd never heard of a ballroom dance, and he found the term foolishly arbitrary if it could be done without the arena the name suggested. The concept that there were several dances that fell under the greater heading was, again, something of a bother. Keene had never understood the reasons for etiquette. He abided by the the rules for the sake of the rules themselves, not for whatever they might have represented. Thus, the upper crust of the Zeltivan society was an entire mystery to him; one that Keene had had little interest until the advent of the strange, stony young man who followed behind him. He found Matthew refreshingly efficient, even if their views differed, and the prospect of what he might find within the wealthy caste of the port city's elite was something that had slowly begun to spark a growing flame of curiosity. The definition was hardly concrete, but it operationally defined what seemed to be both an abstract as well as arbitrary concept.

Matthew had stopped, Keene's footsteps sounding quieter without the joined forces of the other man's feet, which drew him to a gradual halt as he turned to flick his eyes to the extended hand. He didn't like being touched for a number of reasons, but he had agreed to the terms of Matthew's request without considering all of the underlying intricacies that had been unknowingly acquiesced to as well. Pulling his gloves out of his pocket were they had been pressed snuggly against his rear, Keene slipped his hands into them, his hand hesitating a tick before his lips twitched downward slightly as he set his hand in Matthews.

The chess game was the final order of business as Keene stepped closer, body slightly more rigid than it had been before but his face relatively unchanged. If Matthew wanted to play the defense, Keene had little issue playing the role of offense. "Bishop to C5."

[Matthew]

Gloves? An interesting choice. "Are you harmed by bare touch? Or does it bother you in some other way?" He imagined it had nothing to do with trying to stay clean. The natural elements that surrounded them made that practically impossible. The question was perhaps a rather personal one, but Matthew had a very limited understanding of what personal actually was. Sometimes he could see the social line that he wasn't supposed to cross. Other times he was completely unaware, stepping right over it without a care in the world. This was perhaps one of those times. Matthew had found something he was curious about, therefor Matthew had simply asked. "Knight to A4." True to his declaration, the young student appeared to be on the defense.

Matthew was an odd one to touch, Keene either being the sort to not notice it at all or to notice it right away. There was a certain lifelessness to his touch. It was all very stoic, controlled and practiced. There was none of the natural warmth that came with a normal person touching another person. The only slight warmth that could be felt was the literal warmth that was generated by his body. Everything else was distant and cold. It was almost like touching a piece of meat. That was how Matthew himself thought of it. All of this flesh and bone was merely a protein, in the end.

"These two hands will hold together. Your other hand will go to my shoulder, while my other hand will go to your hip." As Matthew spoke he followed his own instructions, sensing some level of discomfort on Keene's part and therefor attempting to respect that in some way. The student moved slowly and obviously, making sure every single one of his motions and touches were clearly visible and easy to see coming. As his hand settled on Keene's slim hip, he stepped slightly closer, making the resulting stance one that left about an inch of distance between them. Not too incredibly intimate, but close enough to properly dance.

"I believe the proper name for this specific step is the Box Step, but that is only what I have heard it referred to at times. Again, I have also heard it referred to as ballroom dancing, so all in all it remains slightly confusing." Pausing for a tick, Matthew would make little adjustments here and there when Keene took his proper position, but would then continue on, voice pleasantly soft and words coming out slowly enough to be individually devoured and processed before moving to the next word. He wanted to make sure his instruction was easy to keep up with.

"When doing the box step, you will be moving your feet in a square. Start with your feet together and your weight on your right foot. Then you will move your left leg straight forward in a small step and shift your weight onto that foot. The next step will move your right foot up to the side of your left foot, so that there is a small gap between your feet. You will finish this first sequence by shifting your weight onto your right foot and bringing your feet together. You will do this by moving your left foot over to meet your right. Afterwards, you will do this sequence again, only backwards. I will be mirroring your motions. Are you able to visualize and imitate based on that description, or do you need a visual?" Matthew sounded like a book that had been given a voice. If Keene was the type who absorbed something a bit better whenever he was able to observe it, Matthew would take a few ticks to step back and give a slow example. Then he would step back into their basic shared stance, blue eyes patiently gazing at Keene.

"Now you try. I will attempt to follow. I am fairly unskilled at this, so I expect it to be a learning experience for us both." He was fairly certain the chances of injury were quite slim.

[Keene Ward]

Keene blinked blankly at Matthew's questions. While Matthew presented himself as an analytical and observant individual, Keene had not thought him quite so perceptive. He supposed his donning of the gloves had not been the most stealthy of operations, so instead of saying anything more on the matter, he replied with a simple, "Yes." as it sufficed for both of Matthew's inquiries. He didn't dwell on the off shoot of Matthew's interest. The man seemed to want to know more so than actually doing anything with the knowledge. He already knew Keene's greatest secret. Whether he knew he was aversive to skin on skin contact or not was, in comparison, of little importance. The more he offered willingly, the better chance he had of Matthew keeping the secrets between them, or so Keene hoped. Social interactions were more of a theory for him than a practice, and the application was slightly more unpredictable than he had been led to believe.

Next came the move, and Keene's memories flashed quickly through the years of games to find the proper set up of the board, slender fingers setting the knight in its proper place as a frustrated groan was muttered from their owner. He kept the image in the back of his mind and Matthew guided him forward, while not necessarily controlling or bold, it was enough to pull his thoughts onto the strangely neutral point of their mutual contact.

Matthew was more object than human, or so it seemed to his shielded senses as Matthew placed Keene's hands in the proper position before taking up his own. It was scientific, less contact than a more physical instruction. Keene found it nearly the same as when each had sat across from the other casting questions. It was not comfortable, by any means, but the natural aversion to touch that tended to stiffen Keene's posture and halt his movements was lessened by the sheer lack of interest in the contact itself by the other part. Eyes flicked to each point in which he touched Matthew and Matthew touched him, rigid but not unmovable. Finding their mutual positions acceptable, Keene turned his attention back to the crystal blue stare, preferring to watch the eyes rather than the lips as the other man began his explanations.

The label of the "box step" seemed a bit less arbitrary than before, though the word "box" held more of a three dimensional connotation than something like "square". Still, semantics aside, Keene found it to be relatively straightforward. Part of his attention was preoccupied with the closeness, the scent of the other man, the heat of his breath that only just drifted against him; it was distracting in a way that Keene would have preferred to step back and speak at a more conversational distance, yet he had agreed to be subjected to both Matthew's whims and instruction, whatever they entailed. At the moment, they entailed he bear with the closeness.

The verbal guide was more than enough for Keene to understand what it was Matthew wanted him to do. He shook his head to intone that he did not need a demonstration, "No, words are fine." Keene's fingers lightly pressed against Matthew's shoulder as he stepped forward as he had been instructed. The crunch of the forest's debris below marked his passing as he completed the first half of the box step, and its silence marked the short pause as Keene shifted his weight back to his right to step backwards with his left as Matthew had explained. He found the motion awkward and halting, and he stopped, frowning down at his feet though not releasing the hold. For one, it would have been difficult for him to release what he wasn't really gripping. Both hands were as lightly pressed to the other man as he could manage, relying more on his own strength than the offered stability. Without saying anything, Keene attempted once more, though this time he stepped back with the right and over with the left to complete the imaginary square.

With the movement accomplished, Keene brought the chess game back up to the forefront of his attention. "Bishop to F2, check." After which he nodded at Matthew's previous statement. Whether he learned to dance or not, Matthew had already shared interesting information with him, whether it was intended as such or not, as had he. Their feet moved slowly but steadily as Keene repeated the steps to cement them into his muscle's memory. From what he could tell, there seemed little point in the act of dancing. The step itself was relatively basic and uninteresting, and the required proximity that the act required was hardly worth the discomfort.

[Matthew]

"I see. If at any point my touch becomes too uncomfortable to bear,do not hesitate to let me know. I have no wish to force you into something that is distasteful to you. Anyways, it would make our shared dance look more unnatural than it should. Perhaps it will help it look at it as I look at it. When our hands touch, it is mere sacks of flesh and blood pressing together. If no further thought or consideration is put into it, the act of touching hands become as mundane as touching any other random two objects together." His broad shoulders shrugged in a slow roll, having no idea if his sudden suggestion would even remotely help Keene feel just a bit more at ease around him. They seemed alike in some ways, however. Perhaps some of their thought processes followed the same pattern of simple logic. If anything, it would certainly prove Keene's assessment of Matthew's odd touch to be completely correct. Even the student himself considered his body to be more object than anything else. It was obvious that he didn't take a single bit of pleasure from their shared touch. It seemed, and was, so very unimportant to Matthew.

He took a moment to double-check their stance once Keene had fully stepped into it. His new companion proved to be a quick learner who paid close attention to instruction, his own half of the stance needing no correction at all. Matthew moved onwards with what little he knew of the very simple dance, light blue eyes staring back at Keene with intelligent thought dancing behind them. Seeing as Keene had an eye for detail, there would perhaps be other things he would notice at such a close proximity. The young Matthew was wearing a cologne of some sort, turning what would be a normally musty smell into something that smelled slightly of pine trees. His breath even had a pleasant smell, the warm exhales and inhales of air laced with the lightest touch of mint.

Struggling to keep his eyes upon Keene's own stare and not glance down at his feet, Matthew slowly began to move in time with his fellow dancer. Matthew's touch subtly lightened until it was as meager of a touch as Keene's own, the blue-eyed student showing that he also paid close attention to certain details.

As Keene stepped forward, Matthew stepped backwards, their very first step proving to be a smooth one. He was mildly surprised. He had come to believe that they would take quite a bit of practice to learn to move together with even the slightest of grace. The surprise soon vanished as both of them took the next step, actually pausing at the exact same point. Another slightly eerie instance occurred as both men simultaneously looked down at their feet to understand what had just happened. Within a few ticks they both looked up and continued on, apparently finding synchronization in both success and failure.

"King to F2." The move was once again a quick one, coming a mere tick after Keene had stated his own. Matthew didn't seem to pay it any thought, at least outwardly. Instead, he had glanced down at his feet again as he found himself pausing every so often. It was simply going to require a level of muscle memory. Furrowing his brow, Matthew glanced up at Keene, stoic voice seasoned with just the slightest sprinkle of curiosity. "Do you have any ideas on how we could better practice this or do you feel this will simply require repetition?"

[Keene Ward]

Matthew's explanation of his ideology behind how he viewed touch did not surprise Keene in the least. It was a verbal description of the sensations he already felt, and while it did little to assuage the prickling hairs on the back of his neck, Keene had agreed to accompany Matthew to his dance which required the contact to be borne whether by desire or not. Nodding, Keene forced his posture to relax slightly, the only indication that some effort was taken to make things seem more "natural", though it had little effect on the overall stiffness of his movements.

The gentle nature in which Matthew directed him sent several more shivers down his spine, more so in wariness of how quickly the other man adapted to new information than anything else. He did not feel comforted by Matthew's touch, presence, or gaze, but there was something about the man that demanded a respect beyond what Keene assumed others were to be given - though it was muddied by the unwanted information Matthew had discovered. As they moved, Keene was fully aware of the scents that mingled between them: Matthew's crisp, spicy tang with a hint of a cool freshness and his own gentle musk with overtones of a sweet cedar. Keene found it difficult to believe that what drifted off of the taut, toned young man before him was his natural scent, though beyond soaps, Keene wasn't sure what else might make the man smell as he did. He cataloged the information under the heading of the growing bank that was Matthew. Out of all of the limited number of people he had interacted with in his short like, the dark haired, blue eyed man who kept his gaze as their feet moved across the mostly even ground beneath them was, by far, the most interesting he'd come across.

It was not Matthew's intellect nor was it his strange familiarity that piqued Keene's curiosities, there was just something more about him that Keene couldn't place. That inability to understand while still knowing it was within his grasp was far too tantalizing a challenge for Keene not want to solve it. Of course, there was still the fact that Matthew held a very vulnerable part of who he was, which gave him a relatively infinite amount of leverage. There was a breaking point, certainly, but Keene preferred not to kill Matthew. He wasn't even sure if he could, and it would be a waste at the very least. He could learn more from Matthew alive than spending the days it would take to bury him and keep his hands clean. If it came down to it, he supposed he could ask Mella for help, but he was keenly aware that her wrath would only equal the rage of a summer's storm, something he could weather but would rather not.

Another thing Keene found curious was the speed at which Matthew could switch subjects and still remain as precise and accurate as ever. The chess board in his mind shuffled some until the proper memory was drawn up, each of the little figurines placed appropriately along the checkered surface. He frowned as the moved forward once again, the step truly as simply as Matthew had explained it would be. Had he been playing the defensive, he would not have taken the bishop to expose his king. Though he doubted Matthew had taken the bishop out of panic, he couldn't think of many other reason. The knight was useful, but a bishop for a knight wasn't quite an equivalent trade. He knew some people valued certain pieces over others; it was possible Matthew preferred his knights over his other pieces.

True to the fluid nature of Matthew's attentions, the other man easily slid into another subject, putting Keene's machinations on hold for the time being as his gaze refocused on the piercing blue question before him. He filed away his next move for the time being as he blinked back at the mirrored impassivity flecked with curiosity. In his entire life, Keene had never been asked if the current method of teaching suited him nor if it could be augmented to produce better results. They continued in their movements in silence for almost a chime as Keene tacitly regarded his partner. He had taken notice that they barely touched, Matthew having adjusted his own posture and grip to match that of Keene's. He was accommodating, but he had not thought him to be quite so... open.

"I don't know anything more about dancing than what you've taught me; I have no ideas on how we might be more efficient in our practice than repetition, no." He had mulled over what Matthew had asked and found it unwanted. He was content to learn from those who taught him and teach in kind if he were asked. There was no reason to doubt that Matthew taught as best as he could, and in his limited experiences, those who taught usually imparted enough knowledge for Keene to pursue the subject on his own if he so desired - which was often.

They made quite the strange pair, gliding - save for the occasional halt here and there - over the forest's floor, the same combination of steps never ending as both men seemed to fall deeper into the pattern as it began to require less and less effort. The dance still required a fair amount of thought, faltering in concentration resulted in a falter of step, but for the most part it was simple. Matthew's reduced touch helped Keene's muscles to relax some, though his arms had steadily begun to feel heavier and heavier. Having responded to the question, Keene brought up the chess board in his mind's eye once more, shuffling through the near endless images he'd collected over the years until he found the one he wanted, numbers and letter pulled from various books to settle along the sides of the grid. "Queen to H4, check."

[Matthew]

“Hm. In that case, would you be open to meeting every so often to practice these basic steps a bit more? When would be a good time for you? Perhaps I could wait for you around this area so that we could meet when you return from your private activities. If that doesn't work, I am certainly open to suggestions. We have exactly two weeks until the night of the dance is upon us. That should be plenty of time to get such a simple and repetitive sequence of movement memorized in both mind and muscle.” He allowed Keene time to mull the proposition over if he wished, Matthew's own blue eyes focusing back down to the ground and watching as they glided back and forth. It was slowly becoming easier to fluidly step into each portion of the simple dance, the young student finding it rather interesting that they were managing to sync together with such little practice. Perhaps it had something to do with some of the similarities that seemed to exist between him and Keene. “Also, when the time comes, would it help you feel a bit more comfortable if I wore gloves to prevent as much contact between our flesh as possible?”

The question was phrased innocently enough, but right after the words left his lips, Matthew suddenly blinked two times in rapid succession. Keene was probably the sort to notice that such a thing was rather out of place. Matthew was usually unnaturally focused in his intense stare, only making single slow blinks every so often. “I suddenly realized that I might be going about this the wrong way. If I am not mistaken, the main reason you are willing to work with me is because you wish for me to keep your use of magic a secret between the two of us. So, in a sense, I am supposed to use this information as leverage to make you do as I wish?” The conversation had taken yet another odd turn. Matthew was discussing the idea of blackmail as if it was casual dinner chatter. He had practically just made sure to clarify with Keene that it was the role he was indeed supposed to be playing, as if this was some sort of shared act between the two of them. “I've been practising acting, you see. It another one of my many interests. I feel like this is a perfect opportunity to practice even further. So, if I am supposed to be the sort of person who would use blackmail to get his way... then maybe something like... this?”

Matthew would suddenly set his foot down midway through the step that had him moving backwards and Keene moving forwards, hopefully catching the young man by surprise and forcing him to stumble against Matthew. The young student would be quick to slip his hands from Keene's own hands and catch the oncoming body, looking as if he was just instinctively trying to keep Keene from tripping. If it all went well then it wouldn't take long at all for Keene to realize that Matthew had instead fully slipped his slim arms around the young man in something of a tight hug, leaving no space between them and their faces mere breaths apart. There was of course the chance that Keene would react quickly enough to not get caught up in the hug, but that variable would be handled if it occurred.

A smirk had appeared on Matthew's handsome face, looking completely out of place on his lush lips. It looked as if he was trying to appear cocky. It was a poor attempt, obviously acted. His eyes didn't even match the act, still as intelligent and calculating as ever.

“If you do not practice with me every other day at this very spot when the sun starts to dip, I will tell everyone your secret. Once we end today's lesson and return to Zeltiva, I plan on assuring the secret will be spread even in the event of my death or disappearance. If you truly do not wish to be at the mercy of my desire to dance, your only other option is to kill me right here and now. However, I would not allow you to succeed. Therefor, I suppose giving you an array of options is a moot point. You don't actually have any. However, once the dance has been concluded, I will immediately drop all thoughts of blackmail. Do you understand, Keene?” While his attempt at appearing cocky was rather silly, there was one part of this that he was actually somewhat good at. Matthew's attention to detail extended to the way he touched Keene's body and in turn exploited it as if it was a weakness. There would be little subtle adjustments to make sure their bodies clicked together as snugly as possible. Soft touches of fingertips would somehow know exactly where to trace along Keene's back so that they followed defined lines of his slim muscle. When Matthew spoke, it would be close enough for his warm breath to baptise Keene's face. Every sense was assaulted in a subtle attempt to make it extremely clear who was the dominant one in the current situation.

Then, in a final surreal twist, Matthew would suddenly release Keene and step back. His face returned to the normal bland expression as if his earlier show had merely been some sort of mask that could easily be tossed away. "Do you think that was the correct method of blackmailing you or could I have improved it in some manner?"

[Keene Ward]

Matthew seemed to be of a mind that more practice than what they were currently engaged in would be required to perform optimally at the dance, which he dated in a way that made it seem casual, though Keene had the feeling it was hardly more or less than anything else that had come from Matthew's well-formed lips. While it was a logical request that they gain at least a minimal proficiency in the rocking steps that moved them in a steady pattered across the forest's uneven floor, Keene found the idea of Matthew waiting for him after his pseudo-daily regime of reimancy practice to be unappealing, for a myriad of reasons he didn't bother entertaining, as only one mattered: the very fact that he was involved with Matthew beyond the occasional passing on the street put both him and Mella at risk. It wasn't, perhaps, the greatest risk, but it certainly grew with the prospect of multiple meetings with the strangely familiar man. He wasn't sure if he actually had a choice in the matter, but every question Matthew had asked had been spoken with the intent of an answer to be received.

"This motion is simple enough, I don't believe we need practice beyond what we've already done." While perhaps not elegant, the steps were ingrained in his head, as all things he paid heed to, and though his feet occasionally stumbled, both body and mind knew what they were supposed to be doing and how to get it done. "If there is more to dancing, more days seem prudent."

His second question was met with a mirrored blink, the two men moving in perfect synchronization. He had not expected Matthew to ask about his own comfort. It was something that just wasn't done, as far as he was concerned, and it was odd, uncomfortable even. The irony never struck him, as his attentions were once more focused on yet another turn from their current state of conversation. It seemed he'd been wrong. Matthew had not planned on using the information to coerce him into anything, though it seemed that he had furthered that wrongness by allowing more and more time to pass together for Matthew to come to the realization behind the motives of Keene's acquiescence. It was a confusing moment, one that he took little pleasure in. "If you wish to play the role of a hector, I suppose you should." There was no bitter bite in his words, only a honest response.

Matthew continued, his own frank tone belying no ill-intentions. He seemed motivated by a force that Keene had yet to fully comprehend, though he did understand that what interested Matthew interested him fully. Their dance had shifted from a lesson to an experiment, and Keene mentally braced himself for whatever the clear, blue-eye gaze had in store for him. As the rhythm of their movements was abruptly interrupted, Keene's body lurched forward. He had been prepared for a verbal assault, not a physical one. As the warmth close around him, he felt his muscles tense and back instinctively arch. In a reflexive, jerking motion to free himself, he felt warm skin against his lips, a jolt of shocking pain that drew a small gasp from his chest.

He was panicking. His mind had not been prepaired to handle such close physical proximity, and Matthew's scent filled his senses, his legs weakening some in spite of his muscles' hyper vigilance. The only thing he could think of in the short span before Matthew spoke was how he might free himself, only, the thoughts flooded his system, effectively paralyzing him with endless ideas, some useful, some not so much. His magic was effectively useless to him; his djed was a wild, turbulent storm that could not be controlled, which meant res was out of the question. When Matthew spoke again, the hot, minty breath spreading over his face like some heady poultice. It was difficult to focus on the man's words, as everything else was terribly distracting.

He felt the fingers press against his back, sending shivers of revulsion through him in waves of freezing nausea. Each word carried with a subtle rumble in Matthew's chest, one that Keene was acutely aware of. There were treats, ultimatums, requirements, and instructions, only some of which found their way into the screaming mess of Keene's thoughts. Matthew was too close. His heartbeat inferred with his own, sending tendrils of piercing fear through his body. His eyes had shifted from their placid, calm state, to that of ice broken, a wild terror swimming just beneath the fractured surface. Then, it happened. His body simply moved without the proper instructions, the proper planning. Thought had become his enemy, and action the only recourse.

Keene's head swung forward, his body jerking back just as Matthew released him. He stumbled forward a few paces before he realized he was free, after which, his whirring, fear mottled mind insisted that he move in the opposite direction. Two steps taken in rapid retreat were all he managed before he found himself on his rear end, staring up at his tormentor with a blank stare, one that had begun to return the instant he was released. The fall had been minimal in comparison to the actual pain he had felt when his skin and brushed against the other man's, and he payed it no heed. Then, a question was asked, one that gathered his thoughts and set them back onto a more manageable track, though he hardly forgot what had just transpired.

His voice was slightly strained when he spoke, words more breathy from his slowly steadying heartbeat. "That was effective. I've never had to 'blackmail' anyone before, nor have I ever been subjugated to it before now, so I can't say if it was correct or no." Pushing himself back to his feet, Keene let his thoughts still ever more, trying to sort through them in an efficient manner. "I will do what is required of me for you to keep my secret as such." There was a hint of frustration in his voice, but it hardly carried in his features. Matthew, regardless of how it had physically affected Keene, had acted not out of malice, but self-edification. While that hadn't made the exercise any more bearable, it did paint things in a slightly different retrospective light. He had no qualms with Matthew, not yet, and as long as the man did not invade his personal space in such a way again, Keene had no reason to develop them. He seemed to possess an integrity similar to Keene's own, one that was based upon logic and reason, not such ambiguous foolishness as honor or justice.

Of course, Keene supposed he could be completely wrong. Matthew was unlike any man or woman he'd ever met before. To classify him using the tools and mechanics he'd employed previously was like trying to explain the weather using terms typically associated with the study of rocks. There was the potential for crossover, but it wasn't likely.

[Matthew]

Pain exploded throughout his face at the same exact moment that Keene was released from his grip, the head of the young wizard managing to briefly smash against Matthew's nose. The student stumbled backwards as well, his thoughts suddenly going completely blank as he tried to process the very unnatural sensation. Pain. He was very unfamiliar with it. He simply had rarely ever gotten hurt. He had underestimated Keene's reaction to his touch. While he had knew the man was uncomfortable with it, Matthew had assumed that discomfort was the extent of it. It was now obvious that it ran much deeper than that. Their eyes suddenly met, both men staring blankly at the other, Matthew slightly crouched at the knee with a hand lifted to cup his nose. It was bleeding. The feeling of liquid dripping down the inside of his nose was another unfamiliar sensation. He felt no anger or resentment at Keene for the sudden blow. It appeared to have been a rather natural and instinctive response.

“I apologize.” His words came out suddenly and abruptly, brow furrowing just a bit. Using the back of his hand to wipe his nose clean, Matthew glanced at the glistening red blood smeared onto his flesh. Even the sight of it felt oddly foreign to him. “I miscalculated. I did not realize your discomfort with physical contact was that severe. It is a hard concept for me to understand. That does not excuse that I overlooked it.” A rare glimmer of genuine emotion flickered across Matthew's face, the young student actually looking a bit disappointed in himself. He had made an assumption. How sloppy of him.

“I won't commit the same error now that I am better informed. I wish nothing ill upon you, I simply want a dance partner. I feel that I can simply use my knowledge of your private activities to achieve that. The addition of invasive physical touch with a mask of faked intimacy is not required. In any case, thank you for your feedback on my attempt at acting out what many would consider a villainous role. I have learned from it.” He took a step forward and offered a hand down to help Keene up, pausing halfway through the motion and then suddenly retracting his hand. “Hm. A lot of the social norms that I have been practising include little instances of physical touch. I have practised it so much that it has become almost reflexive. I'll have to work on controlling that a bit better.” Blue eyes stared down at Keene, pondering the idea for a few ticks longer before moving onward.

“We will omit any further practice sessions. While there is more to dancing, I know nothing of it. In exactly two weeks, wear a formal outfit and meet me at the University Library at sundown. If you do not have a formal outfit, I will be there the day before at the same exact time. Simply find me in the library and we can go to a tailor to have something fitted. I'll cover any of the costs. We will also continue our chess game on the night of the dance. Does this plan sound agreeable?” Noticing his nose was starting to bleed again, Matthew opted to simply pinch it closed and breath through his mouth while awaiting Keene's reply.

[Keene Ward]

There was a slight throb of pain where his forehead had connected with the other man's now bleeding nose, but it was negligible enough that he had no issue ignoring it. Instead, Keene forced his breath to slow, working his way out of the instinctual shivers and back towards a more centered, far less panicked state. He derived no pleasure from Matthew's injury, though it did not spark much sympathy either. At the apology, Keene shook his head, voice once more under control, calm and collected. "I gave little indication as to the severity." In the empirical sense, Matthew had simply discovered just how much Keene preferred not to be touched. While it had been unpleasant, from the way the other man acted, it seemed that the single instance of discomfort would serve to be a useful precedent in terms of potential future involvement.

The next words seemed genuine enough, and Keene simply nodded his understanding. There was the mention of villainy, though Keene didn't really see the role of villain portrayed in any respect of the word. Extortion was unfortunate, but there was little inherently bad about it. He had made the mistake of allowing himself to be discovered, ergo it was his fault and coercion was a natural consequence. That Matthew only wanted a single dance seemed a disproportionate desire for the importance of the secrets he was meant to keep, and while Keene didn't doubt that Matthew had little more desire than a partner to take with him, it didn't eliminate the possibility of new wishes to develop with time. Matthew operated, like Keene, under the tenants of reason and logic, which meant as long as Keene obliged his requests, it was more than likely Matthew would do the same.

As the hand was extended, Keene simply stared at it for a few ticks before it was retracted, allowing him space to rise to his feet of his own volition. His body had calmed, and the placid, neutral tone of his features had returned as he eyed the dark haired student. His offer was generous, and while not overtly conspicuous, Keene was not particularly inclined to grow his debt any greater. "I do not have formal attire, but I am reluctant to accept your money without some form of exchange. I will meet you in thirteen days' time, and I offer a second favor upon which we both agree on in payment for the tailor." With a nod, Keene locked the chess board into memory. "This sounds agreeable, yes."