Corvus

He can understand the mental gymnastics Qrow is performing without even hearing a word pass the elder's lips. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," Clover says, placing his hand atop Qrow's and squeezing gently. "I'll come up with an excuse for the others. James knows you're quitting drinking, so he won't mind if I duck out early to check in with you, either."

Qrow chews his lip anyways, eyes focused upon the invitation which has been sent to the Scrolls of everyone intimately involved with the Amity Project's construction. Clover watches his eyes flick back and forth nervously, clearly weighing the pros and cons with each pass over the invitation details.

After all, there shall be an open bar for the adult Huntsmen and Huntresses present. Qrow has every reason to be hesitant.

Clover adds, "Anyways, the rookies are going to be there, so they'll have non-alcoholic choices if you decide to join, although it's going to be in the ballroom connected to the officer's mess."

Wearily, Qrow shakes his head. "I can't hide forever," he murmurs glumly. "I should go. Besides…" He glances up, flashing Clover a rueful smile, "Ruby would probably get annoyed if I didn't show up. She's always saying that I need to relax more these days."

Clover rolls his eyes, but his smile is true; he nods, reaching over and confirming the elder's attendance on his Scroll before Qrow can stop him. "If you want to leave early," he explains softly to Qrow's shocked glare, "then just tell me that you're cold."

"What?"

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "I'll say I'll grab you a jacket or something, and we can leave. There's no need to stay the whole time if it gets to be too much, right?"

"…says the man who only wears vests?"

"You like the view."

The relief which dances across Qrow's face is palpable, the elder finally assenting.

With that, the day of the little dinner arrives. It's a casual affair, the vibrant room full of laughter and cheer as people celebrate a job almost completed; James explains, "The moment the tower is live, I doubt we shall have any time to celebrate properly. So, let us take the time tonight to appreciate the work we have put into bringing peace and connection back to Remnant."

The sentiment is sweet and shared, so people raise their glasses in salute and continue with their casual evening.

Clover is halfway through refilling his glass with water when Vine approaches him. "For how much longer would you like me to house your liquor collection?" he asks simply. "I shall be requiring the extra space soon."

Immediately, Clover's mind begins to work in overdrive. If I take it back, I can always start seeing Qrow in his quarters- they're not as well-furnished since he's a guest, but it'll be fine- I can move my belongings over, just a few sets of clothes and-

"Why does Vine have your liquor collection?"

Clover's thoughts screech to a halt. He glances sheepishly at Qrow, the elder watching him wide-eyed, waiting for a response.

Vine steps in to fill the silence before it can truly begin. "He asked me to house it for a while, although he never really said why." Looking sternly at Clover, he adds, "Should I ask Harriet to take it if you still cannot keep it with you?"

Clover's eyes flit between Vine and Qrow for just a moment, but it is enough for the elder to understand what is going on. Qrow's expression crumples, then softens, crimson filling with such amazed appreciation that Clover's knees grow weak at the mere sight of Qrow's smile. "I'll help him take it back from your room, Vine," Qrow breathes. "He doesn't need to store it elsewhere anymore."

"That's good to hear. Tomorrow, then," the tall, gaunt man nods, loping away to find a quiet corner in which he can enjoy his dinner separated from the hubbub.

Clover merely nods, face heating up now that his tiny act of care has been found out. Qrow reaches out, grabbing his hand out of sight from the others. "You really did that for me?" he breathes.

Clover shrugs. "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Thin lips press together, but Clover can feel Qrow's desire to continue the conversation emanating off his body; however, they have no time to speak as another Huntsman involved in the project steps towards them. "Would either of you like some?" he asks, holding up a near-empty pitcher of beer. "We've still got enough for a glass."

Clover shakes his head confidently, slipping on his Ace Operatives smile with ease. Seeing that, the Huntsman turns to Qrow. For a moment, Clover wants to step in, to respond for the elder. He shouldn't feel pressured to partake, after all. Yet, he holds back, for this is not his fight. Qrow will never grow stronger if Clover protects him always. He is just there to lend a helping hand, after all.

Thankfully, the elder shakes his head after a moment of hesitation. "No, but thanks for the offer, bud," he says easily. The stranger does not know Qrow, so he does not spot the quiver of the elder's lips, the fear which lances through crimson as he speaks.

With a smile, the Huntsman leaves, and Clover is proud. He places a hand on the small of Qrow's back. "Remember," he murmurs into the elder's ear, "just let me know if you're cold, got it?"

Qrow rolls his eyes, but the gratitude shining in his face is clear as day. "Go be with your team."

The rest of the party passes without incident, and Clover finds that Qrow stays for nearly the entire time. It is only close to the end, when the Huntsmen have drunken their fill and James has retired for the evening, when half the children are already asleep upon the tables and the other half are bouncing off the walls thanks to extra servings of dessert, that Qrow finally approaches him. "I'm cold," he admits with a slight flush.

Clover nods. "I'm sure I've got another jacket in your size," he lies easily, waving goodbye to the trio of soldiers with whom he has been chatting.

The moment they step outside the hall, red shines and reflects off the sterile white walls as the man transforms into a corvid. Without question, Clover scoops up the bird and chuckles as it tucks its beak down the collar of his vest, veritably hiding away from the world. He scratches the bird's neck and head gently, planting a kiss on its crown. "I guess we're going home now," he laughs. "We can deal with moving my boxes from Vine's room tomorrow."

The bird trills its assent. He laughs, feeling the bird immediately relax in his arms, crimson eyes closing in seconds as the creature drifts off to sleep, soothed by Clover's safety and warmth.

Just as he is about to head to his own quarters, Ruby's voice calls out to him, and Clover spins on his heel automatically, registering her words too late. "Clover, have you seen Uncle Qrow? They brought out another round of dessert-"

And she spots the bird in his arms.

Instantly, Clover tries to think of a cover story. It is useless, however, for Ruby's silver eyes are already as wide as the moon, the girl's gaze flicking between the bird cradled with so much evident love in his arms and his own face. "Ruby," he murmurs, "I can-"

She knocks him completely off-balance as tears fill her eyes involuntarily, a hand flying up to cover her mouth. "I- thank goodness," she squeaks, the sheer relief cascading over her form enough to stop the words from forming in Clover's throat. "You- Clover, are you and Qrow together? Like- together-together?"

Clover sighs, holding the bird closer, for Qrow has not reacted this whole time. He must've actually been really exhausted, Clover notes, placing one hand over the bird's head to block out their conversation. "We're… it's complicated, Ruby," he says at last. He doesn't know how much Qrow wants Ruby to know, after all.

To his surprise, she steps closer, pleading, "But you want to be, right? There's got to be something-" and she steps away again, reeling herself in. "I'm sorry. I just- he's always been alone," she whispers. A crooked, yet sweet grin forms on her lips. "If you're taking care of him… maybe he won't be as lonely anymore."

"He's never been lonely," Clover murmurs before he realizes it. "He's always had you and Yang."

She chuckles dryly. "It's not the same, even I know that. But if you're here…" Her face melts into pure, relieved joy as she wipes away the tears which have sprung up unbidden. "I'm sure I can leave him to you."

He swallows down the myriad of emotion rising up into his throat. "I'll… yeah," he breathes. "I'll do my best."

She holds a finger up to her lips as she begins to walk backwards, heading to the banquet hall at last. "I guess I should call you 'Uncle Clover' from now on, huh?" she teases with a wink. Instantly, she stops, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh! Wait, no, is that allowed? Do I have to call you 'sir'? Should I have called you sir this whole time?" Panic flits across her features, clearly befuddled.

Clover laughs, shaking his head, trying his best to ignore the simple, gentle statement that she has so easily offered to him. "I- no, Ruby. 'Clover' is always fine."

She beams. "Goodnight then!" she calls as she returns to the banquet hall.

Clover has at least a few minutes of quiet to reflect on that conversation; when he finally closes the door to his quarters behind him, however, the bird hops out of his arms, the man appearing in its stead slumping down onto the edge of the bed.

"You heard?" Clover asks. He already knows the answer.

Qrow nods anyways, his eyes looking up at Clover in a mix of fear and wonder. "Do… you don't mind what she said, do you?" he says, absolutely amazed. "You didn't turn that idea away."

Clover shrugs as he begins to remove his vest. "Which one?"

"Uncle- me- all of it," the elder splutters after a moment, burying his face in his hands.

Once the vest is hung up, leaving him in his slacks and sleeveless shirt, Clover merely kneels in front of Qrow, gently pulling his hands off his face. "I meant what I said," he whispers. "I'm doing this for you. And, I'm fond of the girls, so why not?" His smile falters as he is struck once again by the power of what Ruby had so casually given to him, leaving him dizzy. He presses his forehead against Qrow's bony knees, letting out a long, haggard sigh. "Your nieces really are strong. I can't believe she just did that."

"Did what?"

Clover's lip wobbles, much to his chagrin. He knows he shall always feel a little embarrassed with the way he crumbles so easily in front of Qrow. "If I'm her uncle now, too, doesn't that mean I'm…" He gestures vaguely, unsure of how exactly to put it into words. "Aren't I part of the family?"

Long fingers tilt his chin upwards. "If you'll have us," Qrow murmurs, pressing his forehead and nose flush against Clover's. "We're a bit of a fucking mess, but… you'd like Patch."

"…I'd like to see it one day."

"I'll take you."

"Okay."

"Their dad bakes really good cookies."

"I look forward to it."

"He doesn't drink much, so it's fine to be there."

"…He'll be surprised when he sees you again, huh?"

He does not flinch when Qrow's tears land upon his cheeks. "He'll be really proud," Qrow admits through choked tears. "He'll be really, really proud. Dumbass has been begging me to quit for years- I should've listened a long time ago. He'll be so happy."

"As he should be," Clover replies, standing up and gathering the elder in his arms. "We all are."

And he means it.