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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 1, 2009 14:14:12 GMT -5
"Whichever you prefer," said Nicki, who did not intend to drink. Ale, that is. He stayed close near George's elbow. They were together, after all; he did not suppose the undertones to that outing were too obvious, although he knew he could probably make them so if he stopped thinking about it and simply behaved as he wished, which meant he had to stay on guard.
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Post by Armand on Jun 1, 2009 14:54:18 GMT -5
George chose a table, for the privacy.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 1, 2009 18:06:01 GMT -5
Not enough privacy, by Nicki's standards. But he was hardly going to complain. He leaned an elbow on the table and gazed at George, practically ignoring the rather buxom young woman who came over to rather boredly ask of them what they wanted. Nicolas' eyes traced over her throat a moment before he looked away, a dismissive hand gesture saying he didn't want anything.
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 2, 2009 19:45:05 GMT -5
George ordered a drink, flirting with her, joking shamelessly- all cheery jests and darker gazing, the flicker of a self-aware smile, "Such a relief to have balm for weary eyes as well as a thirsty tongue!"- until he earned a smile from grudging lips. This was second nature to him. He didn't think for an instant that it would bother Nicolas- it was standard practice as well for those whose company he usually kept, and as soon as she'd flounced off he leaned back in his chair and looked to Nicolas.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 2, 2009 19:53:13 GMT -5
It did bother Nicolas, as a matter of fact - what, you expect RATIONALITY? What are you, insane? - but he wasn't upset enough by it to speak on it or behave in a manner that was at all outrageous. He wasn't furious, by any means. He had met George twice, after all (although he'd kissed him twice, in addition to that. That was one thing). But he'd been very confused, and this might have been apparent on his expression, and even more than the way he had followed George into the pub, that behavior demonstrated his attachment.
Nicolas folded his arms on the table and lay his head down, the same informality that had been in their first meeting, but there was something rather suspiciously sulky about it this time.
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 2, 2009 20:07:41 GMT -5
George regarded the back of Nicolas' head blankly. He made a little 'hm' noise under his breath and began to casually examine his fingernails for cleanliness until his drink arrived, at which point he took a long, slow sip. Then he set his drink down and rapped two knuckles against the violinist's skull.
"Is it past your bedtime, sir?" he drawled. "I had no idea you retired so early."
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 2, 2009 20:18:58 GMT -5
Nicolas glanced up over at him with the slightest smile. There was drink on his mouth, still, and despite the fact that he had no desire for the drink he wanted to press his lips against George's and...
No. Was in a pub. Which was a public place. They would be thrown out. Nicolas had no recollection, actually, about whether or not such behavior was still illegal, but he wouldn't want to risk the police, either. And George would not be pleased.
Beyond that, he wanted to hold to his first idea - he wasn't going near George again until he was as hot as any other mortal body would be.
"I am afraid my sleeping hours are rather strict," said Nicolas with a rather tricky smile, letting his chin rest against his arm. "Of course I shall try to be as flexible as I can for you, but..." A shrug.
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 2, 2009 20:31:42 GMT -5
George shrugged. "I can always revive you with a brisk shower of ale should your eyelids prove too heavy."
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 2, 2009 20:36:40 GMT -5
Nicolas smiled, closing his lips over his teeth very quickly. It would have only been a moment, not enough time for anything to properly register, but... Nicolas was not so careful. He'd have to learn to be if he wanted to keep George, and yes, he did.
He reached out to tug his sleeve teasingly. "Will hardly be a problem. I shan't become so tired until dawn."
He was trying to think of ways in which to leave without bothering George. He supposed doing it so soon after their arrival would be a poor choice. Instead he smiled again and tried, maybe a little obviously hopeful, "I don't suppose you shall ever spend such a night with me as to discover that..."
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 2, 2009 20:56:21 GMT -5
George's eyebrows rose. Again came that slow, self-aware smile. "So eager, are you? Not a care in the world for my virtue." He didn't notice the sheen of a longer canine peeking from betwixt Nicolas' lips. The violinst was too fast.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 2, 2009 21:00:49 GMT -5
"Virtue, a fig, et cetera," said Nicolas with a wave of his hand, propping his chin up against his hand. The smile was still there. "Mm, and you started it, recall. I am hard to dissuade once the idea has been planted, and you do not seem to struggle against my ideas very much, however scandalous. My God, man. The things you are willing to do in the house of God, no less."
He had to be careful, once again, to keep his lips over the fang teeth. Small though they were, they were inhuman and would attract all the wrong attention. And he and George were getting on very well. From certain perspectives.
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 2, 2009 21:07:47 GMT -5
George had forgotten that- forgotten, as it were, that the bell tower was of Notre Dame, a church less in his consciousness for the infamiliarity of it, as if Paris was all over freedom without a thread of his life as it was before- and for an instant, the shock was evident on his face. The things he was willing to do in the house of God... the thought was somewhat akin to a cold shower.
He hid it quickly enough, face quite blank as he replied innocently, "It was only a friendly kiss."
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 3, 2009 16:37:35 GMT -5
Perhaps because he felt so similarly on a below-the-skin level, but Nicolas could not for his life understand what had brought about the momentary shock on George's face and felt concern, which was apparent on his face for far more than a moment.
"Was it only?" he said, seeming rather sad, but soon clearly only distant and preoccupied. "I suppose we will have to be friends, then."
But there was a rather dark - in a nostalgic and shadowy way; a sort of put-out-ed-ness, a vague distress, that was human and not supernatural - note to that remark. Nicolas' last friend... well. Here George was reminding him of that again. He looked away, over the tables, the bar, but didn't see them, not really. No. He shivered, projecting images of a cafe in morning light onto this, students at the table with them, and, quite, quite different from dark-eyed George, a laughing devil of a charming young blond fellow, cocking his head. Different atmosphere. Different styles of clothing.
Different lifetime.
Nicolas stood, unexpectedly, both for himself and probably for George as well. "You know, I've really got to - " and he made some you know how it is gesture that really illuminated nothing, taking a step back as though to go.
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Post by George Boleyn on Jun 3, 2009 18:45:49 GMT -5
George's eyebrows rose, the uptilt of his lips slackening. He turned his head to follow Nicolas' movement, some of the languid grace diminished by his surprise. "You're leaving?"
He had only been teasing, transparently- as he'd thought- innocent, but of course had Nicolas taken him differently it seemed this affair would be over with two kisses and the ringing of bells. Not that George did not intend for this to end sooner or later. They were near-strangers, and this was sodomy besides, it wouldn't do once he began again to climb the social ladder. But this seemed very abrupt. At the least, George had been looking forward to the violinist's company.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Jun 3, 2009 18:55:49 GMT -5
Nicolas paused as he was pulling out and looked to him in surprise. "I - "
No. He hadn't intended... he suddenly realized just how tense he felt, how like an animal caught in a trap. And realized that if he'd left the pub for a moment without George's speaking to him, he would probably have not come back, have forced a veil of forgetfulness over the evening and have never returned. Realizing this was like being hit in the head, and he stared a moment before shaking his head gently.
"No," he said, more softly, more tenderly, than was warranted. "I've got to... well. Indecent sorts of things. I'll be back before you can miss me." Suddenly smiling very warmly, he patted George on the cheek rather too-teasingly. "Not that I won't be dazzlingly charmed if you should so decide to miss me..."
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