[ He's one long row of expression, is Jean Louis, behind the flatness, is that the right word, Claude isn't sure, of his surface. There's a bout of semi-nervous energy hanging in the air between them as he runs his hand through his hair, the other steering the car through the night with an assertiveness that's nothing if not attractive. His smile soon takes on a certain degree of stiffness again, however, and like that it all changes back and forth, back and forth. It's such a natural parallel to draw for him, of course, but Claude also thinks it fitting. To call it a dance. Something choreographed, something stylized. They know their own patterns too well, he'd say. And they're not familiar with each other's just yet.
That's what this is. That's what this evening has been like.
He lets his own hands sink into his lap as he turns his head completely to look at the other man. Being as direct as he possibly can, because he's not here to put up smokescreens. It's been a good date, Claude has enjoyed it immensely. So much that he's actually considering just inviting Jean Louis up, get the banging out of the way and see what awaits on the other side, but it's a principal thing to him. He could easily sleep with Jean Louis, he could easily, but he won't. Because he's chosen another approach, one that he hopes will be a better fit in the long run. Whether Jean Louis Girard will mind having to stretch his legs a little, only time will tell, he supposes. ]
I try not to sleep with people on the first date - or the second or the third.
[ What he doesn't say: Do you still think I've got potential? Because. Does it matter? Instead he flexes his fingers where they're resting on his thighs, observing the lines of his hands contort and break up under the shine of another streetlight and another, though the suburbs look to have gone to bed already. They'll be at his place soon. ]
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That's what this is. That's what this evening has been like.
He lets his own hands sink into his lap as he turns his head completely to look at the other man. Being as direct as he possibly can, because he's not here to put up smokescreens. It's been a good date, Claude has enjoyed it immensely. So much that he's actually considering just inviting Jean Louis up, get the banging out of the way and see what awaits on the other side, but it's a principal thing to him. He could easily sleep with Jean Louis, he could easily, but he won't. Because he's chosen another approach, one that he hopes will be a better fit in the long run. Whether Jean Louis Girard will mind having to stretch his legs a little, only time will tell, he supposes. ]
I try not to sleep with people on the first date - or the second or the third.
[ What he doesn't say: Do you still think I've got potential? Because. Does it matter? Instead he flexes his fingers where they're resting on his thighs, observing the lines of his hands contort and break up under the shine of another streetlight and another, though the suburbs look to have gone to bed already. They'll be at his place soon. ]