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Post by Sebastian Flyte on Dec 28, 2008 23:51:40 GMT -5
Sebastian Flyte had decided to go on one of his rare excursions to the actual nightlife, having never really been drunk outside of Oxford or Brideshead, or Marchers, particularly given his youth, and in this sense was extremely naive. He had driven to Le Chat Noir, not in Hardcastle's car, unfortunately, although that would have been like old times, and it had not occurred to him - as it never occurred to Sebastian about him and driving, even as he was well aware of how bad he was with it when sober - that driving back would be very much a trial, and although a tart a few years his senior had taken a keen interest in him for a short time and kept walking by him with a few kind words, he was nonetheless very much alone and wished Charles could have come on to Paris with him.
A few drinks, maybe, would appease the demon of solitude? Sebastian was downing his second glass of champagne and waving over a waiter for another and finding this philosophy did not do much to help. Next person who caught his eye he could wave over instead. Certainly if he shared the bottle with them, they'd be persuaded to remain. He watched rather keenly as people passed him by, for the most part in parties or already drunk, if they were alone; and he wanted a solitary person, for he was not about to feel like the fifth wheel in any arrangement. Sebastian did so hate that. It made him feel even lonelier.
And he also imagined that his looks might help him lure over the first person he saw - he did know he was good-looking. Of course, he was also holding a teddy bear in his lap and looked dismally young and out of place, but as he already felt dismally out of place he thought more of that as something in his own mind, sad and paranoid, than of something everyone would see and laugh at.
((tag Mercutio. What, he doesn't go to cabarets? Of course he does!))
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Post by Mercutio on Dec 29, 2008 0:07:59 GMT -5
It was fortunate for Sebastian that there was a solitary figure among the throng, although Mercutio did not intend to be solitary for long. That was, after all, why he'd come here. Not drunk yet, although he planned to be with as much anticipation as he'd planned to find something or someone to entertain himself with. The only problem with this place was that there was no one recognizable source of alcohol, but rather many, weaving all over the place in their identical black-and-white suits, and Mercutio had to snag a table in order to best catch one's attention. Like Sebastian, he did not particularly care to be alone, and while he didn't mind larger groups there was a young fellow looking around the room with the most piteous expression on his face that Mercutio decided to have some mercy. He propelled himself into the seat next to the young man, noticing too late and with a small amount of alarm that the young man had some sort of stuffed toy on his lap. This gave him pause for a minute, an unusual circumstance that led to a delay of his intended extravagent introduction.
(( You know he does. ))
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Post by Sebastian Flyte on Dec 29, 2008 16:42:54 GMT -5
Sebastian was most surprised to be joined by someone without needing to wave them over, and had hardly had the chance to look at the young man who'd joined him.
He expected an introduction, but receiving none, Sebastian spoke first, forgetting he held his last swallow of champagne in the glass in his hand. "Well, you might say who you are, at least," he said, mildly cross, although that impression faded quickly as he began to look him over. He did have a very distinct face. "And you might have waited for me to call you over."
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Post by Mercutio on Dec 29, 2008 17:10:34 GMT -5
Mercutio looked at him in some surprise, settling into his seat, wariness disappating despire the bear in Sebastian's lap. "I might have," he said, almost thoughtfully. "But I didn't. Don't be angry; I'm merely hurrying along the spontaneous collision of two random people in the whirlwind of life. And you know, it's difficult to get anything to drink unless one has a table, and I really do need something to drink." He leaned across the table, hand extended for an informal, languid shake. "But if you insist, my name's Mercutio."
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Post by Sebastian Flyte on Dec 30, 2008 19:04:18 GMT -5
Sebastian took his hand warmly and firmly. He took quickly to people, if he took to them at all, and once he had taken to or against someone it was generally very hard to turn him away, even if he later on found himself starting to grow colder towards them; he was kept in a constant obligation to uphold behavior upon his first impressions, even if revised. Therefore, unless this pixy-looking and slightly wasting - like a waxy, lazy vine growing up a fine stone wall in the warmth of supper, the rare fragrant blossom adding some fancy to it, that was how Sebastian had him down at the moment - turned out to be a total cad and therefore Sebastian was very unhappy in this first impression, Sebastian was in for a great deal of lovely drunkenness and maybe some companionship.
"Sebastian," he said, almost proudly, but not without a real inch of pride, just a good-natured pink smile. "Mercutio? Is it Italian? My papa's in Venice. I should be visiting him now, in all honesty. And please do have a drink, please have several. It's one of those sad things about life that the best time to spontaneously swirl into someone is when you are beautifully drunken already but it's very hard to become beautifully drunk unless you've already swirled into someone else. That's what you said, isn't it? - swirled into? I do forget the exact phrasing."
He waved over a waiter as he spoke, and when he paused, ordered a bottle of champagne and another glass very congenially.
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Post by Mercutio on Jan 12, 2009 18:30:03 GMT -5
"Is he?" Mercutio asked lazily. "Charming place, but the stench from the canals is nearly too much to bear. Perhaps sometime you should accompany him to pretty Verona, the principle from which I hail. If you ignore the settling blood fued, there's no place more fair." He watched Sebastian order champagne, nose scrunching in his distaste. "Swirled into, spontaneous collision, more or less the same thing- I want wine," he informed the waiter, before he could escape. "Shame on you, Sebastian, offering champagne to an Italian."
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