[ The other man brushes his fingers across Claude's knuckles and for a moment, it leaves his hand tingling. It still resonates with him, how Jean Louis was so forth-coming about his relationship status, how he noted that they both seemed to value honesty. The bell rings, though, and it's time to return to the truly dramatic world of Russian ballet again. Claude puts his wine down on the counter and leaves it there for someone else to clean up. He turns around, finding himself side by side with Jean Louis again and he wonders, briefly, how others perceive them, were they to look their way now. Wonders, even more briefly, how he's supposed to perceive them himself. ]
Let's.
[ He leaves the questions for later. He's got an entire evening to ponder what the fuck he's expecting to come out of this, right? Until it becomes pressing, it's just about sitting back and enjoying the ride, the film, dinner, whatever follows. ]
no subject
Let's.
[ He leaves the questions for later. He's got an entire evening to ponder what the fuck he's expecting to come out of this, right? Until it becomes pressing, it's just about sitting back and enjoying the ride, the film, dinner, whatever follows. ]