[ someday is good, someday is perfect — because this, now, is for... them apparently disturbing the family night, and viktor glances away, his cheeks dusting a light pink for a moment, before octavian is commandeering his full attention once more.

and the experiment? an immediate success, something that makes viktor feel immensely lighter, buoyed as he smiles at octavian, his eyes warm with affection; but because he is, hm, himself, what he says in return initially is, ]

You look very good for your age.

[ a line dryly delivered — but after a moment's pause, he does continue, ] I do not care that you are a spectre. Why would I care that you have existed longer than I?

[ and he is not usually someone prone to expressing himself in words like this... but he looks down at octavian's hand still holding his, tries to ignore the fact that they have a conjured audience here. he brushes his thumb against the side of octavian's hand lightly. ] I care that you are you, and all of that [ the ghost thing, the having existed in a room for thirty years, ] is a part of it, no? The choices you've made, [ he says then, echoing their conversation in octavian's workspace — the choices he's made have made him who he is today, here, and viktor wouldn't change that.

he lifts his gaze, finally, fully serious. ]

You're incredible, Octavian. So don't joke about that, please. [ being too old for him, or any of it; none of that will matter to him. ]