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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 15:26:51 GMT -5
"Did you want to?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 24, 2009 15:28:45 GMT -5
He shrugged again, looked away more pointedly, the angle of his throat and the sudden change in his apparent persona making him look younger. Of course, he was already young, but it was a kind of ambiguous youth that could really have been older than he was, the youth coyness and paint. It was a youthful look Divine and Darling and their lot all had, an ageless, painted one. But he looked genuinely young at the moment.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 16:17:52 GMT -5
Erin considered him, then gave a shrug of his own. "Why can't you go back? D'you have a job to pay for classes?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 24, 2009 16:21:48 GMT -5
Adrien snorted and glanced back at him. No point explaining the French school system, the simple fact that it was hard, that he'd never been any good at it, that at 19 it was already much too late to go back. Maybe Erin didn't get that he meant that he'd never gone beyond the age of 16. He did exude middle class-ness, and probably didn't get that that wasn't where Adrien came from. Well. Who really cared. He didn't want to think about his middle class background; it made him less appealing. He wanted the appeal.
"I have a job," said Adrien shortly, lifting an eyebrow. "That's the only reason you'd go to school, anyway. To get a job. And I have one."
It was a long sentence, coming from him.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 16:36:42 GMT -5
"Well, yeah, but if you wanted to go then you must've had other reasons, right? Like a better job, or maybe you just wanted to be educated, I dunno. So? Why did you want to go?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 24, 2009 16:53:31 GMT -5
Notre-Dame stood up without intending to, and rubbed his fingers through his hair almost sullenly, before dropping the cigarette from his fingers and grinding it carefully into the dirt. He sat again and folded his arms. "I didn't," he said. "So I left. What's it to you? God."
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 17:07:20 GMT -5
Erin spread his hands in surrender, a small, dry sort of smile tugging at his lips as he regarded Notre Dame. "Sorry. Just wondering."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 24, 2009 17:13:48 GMT -5
"Yeah," said Notre-Dame even more softly. "Stop." His chin was nearly resting on his chest, he'd gotten so slumped and dejected-looking, though clearly trying to shake that off.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 17:17:13 GMT -5
Erin would have mimed zipping his lips, but Notre Dame looked so suddenly dejected and so small it would have been a little tasteless. So Erin fell quiet, restfully so, hands folded loosely in his lap again as if he could sit all day just like this.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 24, 2009 17:21:52 GMT -5
After a while, Notre-Dame moved, slowly pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, glancing over at Erin as though to ask with a look if he wanted one, too.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 24, 2009 17:27:42 GMT -5
Erin waved him off with a little gesture, head lolling a little on his neck to the side as though he were checking, bored, for anything interesting on the other side of the tent. Or maybe, as he stayed that way, it was only another position, another posture, for his mild wonderings.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 25, 2009 8:53:53 GMT -5
Ah, the relief of a cigarette. Adrien's smile didn't exactly come back, but he calmed considerably, the tension in his shoulders disappearing. The way Erin put up with him was nice; he liked it, he liked sitting there so casually that they might have already known each other. After a moment, he glanced down and flicked ash to the ground, then took another drag, watching Erin through the smoke he exhaled before speaking. "D'you think I'm a good-looking boy?"
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 25, 2009 9:38:25 GMT -5
Erin's flickered back to him long enough to give him a very odd look. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, skeptically.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Mar 25, 2009 13:07:22 GMT -5
Adrien tilted his head quizzically, waiting for an answer, and also maybe trying to expose his best side.
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Post by Erin Harper on Mar 25, 2009 15:45:33 GMT -5
Erin hesitated. "I guess," he said a little uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets again. If Erin actually looked at him, Notre Dame looked sort of like a model, one of those underfed, impossibly young models lounging sullenly in the spread of some fashion magazine looking as though they'd rather die than model one more pair of jeans, the ones who watched the photographer with heavy-lidded eyes and scornful mouths. Notre Dame definately had the same kind of smile. "Why?"
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