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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 12, 2009 20:25:21 GMT -5
Notre-Dame put a hand on Erin's, not flirtatiously, but stopping him, and took out his delicately beaded handbag. Inside, the lining might have been just as soft and silky as expected, but the cigarettes and matches and similar things - lots of stolen little items Notre-Dame took for the hell of it - betrayed the owner as a young man.
He took a cigarette out, struck a match, lit it, and let the match drop to the ground, where it burnt out. He puffed the cigarette to light, and offered it to Erin in a cool twist of the wrist.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 12, 2009 20:32:21 GMT -5
Erin accepted, eyes half-closing as he drew in, then flicking to the side, and then finally back to Notre Dame. "That bag looks like a pain to tote around."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 12, 2009 20:36:39 GMT -5
Notre-Dame lit his own, and shrugged sort of indifferently in response, because, after all... more or less. "Only do it in the dress," he said. Usually he kept cigarettes and stuff in a coat pocket, but... no coat, no cigarettes, unless you bring them in something feminine. He held the handbag against his thigh, the first time in a while his smile came peeping back, lifting his eyebrows as though to say, See? Because it matched the dress.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 12, 2009 20:45:41 GMT -5
"Yeah." Erin's eyes were quite indifferent. Now Notre Dame was behaving himself. Whatever the hell the reason, Erin liked it better. And Erin himself was quite subdued at the moment, so that maybe he wouldn't even care if Notre Dame starting touching him again; notice, but not care. He actually wanted to go to sleep now, which was stupid, since he hadn't even changed and it seemed like cheating to get the exhaustion without the action.
Erin took another drag on his cigarette, eyes drifting to the closed tent flap. 10 minutes, or so. Less, maybe, because at the moment he wasn't in the mood for much of anything and he might as well get it over with. He didn't tire much in form, although he did get very bored.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 12, 2009 21:00:29 GMT -5
Notre-Dame recrossed his legs, high-heeled foot dangling in the air a moment in a rather pittoresque way, tapping cigarette ash onto the ground. Erin was not behaving much differently, and seemed rather calm. Instead of riling him up again, though, Notre-Dame decided to try and see if he could satisfy his curiosity, which, naturally, wasn't something he often did, not liking to engage in long conversations normally, but well, his interest had been piqued.
"You often alone like this? Why?"
Not that Notre-Dame didn't spend most of his time alone, too. He just happened to spend enough of it with people to get what he - hell, what anyone - wanted out of person-to-person interaction. And, maybe naively, for in some ways he was kind of sheltered in that his life had been in a very small, narrow world, he figured that anyone who was going to spend time with people would be doing it between performances while he was loafing around his tent, totally shirtless, and smoking. But hey, maybe he wanted someone of his own... species.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 12, 2009 21:11:34 GMT -5
"Hm?" Erin didn't recall saying anything about being alone. He blinked at Notre Dame, then shrugged, slowly. "I don't know many people yet." He'd met and struck up a casual friendship with a few of the guys hanging around the place, workers, mostly, very few involved in any of the acts. In fact, he'd gotten one of them to like him enough to bring him a sandwich or something similar when the guy came to let him out of his cage at the end of the night. And he knew Gwynplaine, the juggler, who seemed like a decent, quiet kind of guy... Erin liked casual relationships. He didn't have many close ones. That was fine with him.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 13, 2009 13:20:40 GMT -5
"D'you want to?"
Notre-Dame seemed quite bored, but watched Erin's face keenly. The human features seemed as exotic as the inhuman ones had, as Notre-Dame scrutinized for the slightest difference and remarked the similarities as much anything else.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 13, 2009 14:57:36 GMT -5
A shrug, as Erin watched Notre Dame watching him.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 13, 2009 15:03:28 GMT -5
Notre-Dame shrugged again, this time as though to say, Ah, well. And took another drag of his cigarette. After a while, he looked back at Erin curiously. "Why did you chase me?"
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 13, 2009 15:07:19 GMT -5
Another shrug. "I dunno. Ask me later." That was- ask me after I've changed.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 13, 2009 15:50:51 GMT -5
Notre-Dame's lips pursed, and he leaned back in the chair to finish his cigarette. He'd caught the meaning of that phrase, and wanted - ah, damn it - wanted Erin to hurry up and get around to changing.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 13, 2009 19:19:31 GMT -5
Ironically enough, it was time. The 10 minutes were over. Erin flicked his cigarette to the ground and trod on it, for the second time that evening. "You'll have to ask me really later," he said. "Or another day. I assume this is good-bye." Erin couldn't stand around and chat with Notre Dame after this, he was supposed to be fascinating the crowd. And it would be several hours until he was done, and Notre Dame wouldn't be here anymore by then, and Erin would be exhausted anyway. Vaguely, "Nice chatting with you." Then he strode forward to whip the tent flap open, securing it quickly and yelling out into the crowd, calling, enticing, pointing passerbys out and motioning them in. Erin'd taken a few theatre classes back home, it was no effort to come up with flashy draws and smooth promises of the bizarre creature he could become. So he drew in a small crowd, filling up the front seats, although they'd leave soon enough- seats were unnecessary. People always wanted to wander up to the cage and stare, and then move on, not sit.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 15, 2009 16:55:37 GMT -5
**NEW DAY**
It had not taken long for Notre-Dame to leave, being, as it was, not all that exciting to watch Erin sit around in a cage and look fierce. Oh, he was terribly fascinated and perhaps even longing - for a thrill, for the ride, for life - by the sight of him transforming, and had indeed stared and stared and smiled the whole time, although his mouth had been open and the smile had been half in awe, making him look like the boy he'd been not long ago (howevermuch a woman he looked like now). But afterwards - nothing. All so cheap. Because he'd seen him loose, hadn't he, hadn't he been pinned down to the ground and spoken to and chastised and chased? No, this wasn't a draw.
But Notre-Dame didn't have anywhere else to find him.
And so it had only been about three days before Notre-Dame had come back to the tent to see him again, this time without a thought of making an impression or making a big trip out of it. Before, he'd not been sure what to expect, and had figured he'd be going to The Circus and enjoying himself. As it turned out, he was only there for one thing, that privacy before Erin went on and things got very boring - and so he didn't feel like dressing up. Notre-Dame wasn't that fond of drag, in perfect honesty. He was dressed very much as he had been the night he'd met Erin, though not out of sentimentality - that was all he owned. The nondescript clothing, the scuffed but handsome boots, the long corduroy coat, the stolen foulard - and the straw-blond hair over the eyes, over that smile on his lips - this would look familiar indeed.
And as he entered the tent, he wondered if Erin had been expecting him.
((Erin has 100 posts!))
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 15, 2009 17:42:56 GMT -5
(( Huh, how'd that happen? ))
Maybe Erin had been, because although the cage was missing and many of the chairs were missing, or folded, and lying on the floor, Erin was there. Not smoking, this time, only sitting in one of the few upright chairs and staring off into space, zoning out, as it were, although when Notre Dame entered the tent Erin's gaze transferred to him as easily as if he'd been staring at Notre Dame the entire time. As lightly as if they'd already been in the middle of a conversation, Erin commented, "I'm working outside now. No more tent."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 15, 2009 18:42:09 GMT -5
Notre-Dame shrugged. He was uninterested in the show, but the shrug was not, because of that, callous. He accepted and processed the information and then he moved on. In this case, moving on included strolling up to a chair and leaning against it, taking out a cigarette from the case in his pocket, striking a match against his thigh, and lighting it, letting the match burn itself out on the ground.
Less of a gentlemen just as he was less of a lady, Notre-Dame didn't even think to offer Erin the cigarette. Erin hadn't suggested he'd wanted one, after all.
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