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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Aug 25, 2009 10:37:03 GMT -5
Nicki had heard them.
"But what if I told them you were involved, hmm, told them just what we did," he said, almost threateningly except for the obvious, exaggerated quality of the humor, furthermore implying they had done far more than kiss.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 4, 2009 15:36:23 GMT -5
George glanced at him. "I dare say the crows have seen and heard worse," he said dryly. "Plucked out lips and tongues of their own, hmm?"
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 4, 2009 15:42:48 GMT -5
"Oh, they'll have to keep to themselves," said Nicki with a small, dark smile - the ominous quality of it not even remotely ruining the besotted effect. "I have intentions for mine. And yours, come to think of it. Come sit beside me?"
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 7:39:06 GMT -5
"No, I don't think so," George said carelessly, lounging instead against the wall with one foot propped. "What will happen to my poor virtue? Admittedly, the thing's all ragged by now- "
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 7:50:56 GMT -5
"Mmmm, tragic, well, let's mend it before we wear it out again, shall we? Want to return to the church? They're good for that sort of thing, I've heard," said Nicki, sprawling over the couch since George was not apparently joining him.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 10:59:56 GMT -5
"Oh, no. The thing just needs a good beating! Like a rug, you know, or one's dirty laundry." George made an abrupt flinging gesture with his hand, and then drank some wine.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 11:02:27 GMT -5
"I don't beat my dirty laundry," said Nicki idly. He didn't, of course; like most vampires, he threw it out. "As for rugs, I let them turn the color of the floor and then I forget about them. There is a downright scoundrel lounging on your couch currently, my fair Englishman."
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 11:10:37 GMT -5
"Oh?" George said, and made a face at him. "Never tell me you've lice, man, or you won't be on my couch much longer."
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 11:15:39 GMT -5
Nicolas smiled sweetly, almost malignantly. "Do I look like it?"
Faint dust aside, his hair had been cleaned from their time in the fountain together - cut far too short for Nicki's tastes - and he looked dazzlingly white, as usual, of course.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 11:22:14 GMT -5
George deliberately let the pause after Nicolas's words stretch as his answer, giving the violinist one side-long look and then looking away to tear off a hunk of bread in an exaggeratedly concentrated manner.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 11:26:34 GMT -5
Nicolas sat up, expression one of some concern, and after a moment, repeated, with a faint edge to his voice, "Do I look like it?"
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 11:33:10 GMT -5
George's eyes rose briefly to Nicolas', then, quite unconcerned, his gaze shifted back to his food. "Brush your hair and you'd look less like it."
For all his careless tone, George was intrigued, testing. Would Nicolas be so concerned as to what George thought of him as to do it? And then, another, more subtle cause.... how would that hair look, were it to be brushed until it lay curled and fine....?
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 11:34:41 GMT -5
Nicolas thoughtlessly ran a hand through his bedraggled curls; his fingers caught, and he turned to look at it in surprise.
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Post by George Boleyn on Sept 7, 2009 11:46:12 GMT -5
Amused by this, George turned and went to a drawer in a little table nearby; he opened a drawer, took out a comb, and tossed it to Nicolas. It was a nice comb (very nice, tortoiseshell and gold) and heavy in one's hand, but George threw it to the other as casually as though it were made of wood.
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Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Sept 7, 2009 13:47:17 GMT -5
Nicolas looked at it and then scoffed at George, tossing it back to him as deftly as he'd caught it, the flick of his wrist very nearly a blur (although that could have been dim lighting. It was night, of course, and so George's vision would never quite be perfect).
"You don't like it as it is?" said Nicki with the faint pride of youth, exaggeratedly arrogant to cover up for the fact that he was starting to worry in typical mumsy fashion that George indeed didn't.
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