[ Jardin Luxembourg is the classiest little cinema, he's ever seen, hands down, he's particularly smitten with its red velvet seats, reminding Claude more of the theatre than a place showing movies. Currently, Jean Louis and he are standing at the counters running across the huge window panel with its view of the street outside, Masquerade is so long, three hours, give or take, that there's a half hour break in the middle to accommodate the quick fix hunger that some might develop while watching all that political drama. It's actually a much more political movie than he'd expected, maybe even more politics than ballet, in a distribution of 55 percent to 45, if he's generous.
For now, though, he's actually more thirsty than hungry and without turning too much to the side, he throws a glance over at the café where they are selling the wine that has secured the place its reputation. Wouldn't a glass of Argentinian make this already rather satisfying date that much more perfect? Claude thinks so and considers asking Jean Louis whether he'd like a glass as well. ]
[It's a long movie alright, but considering the subject matter, the feel of time passing would no doubt have been relative in any case. Russian politics aren't wholly uninteresting, happily, and the drama of the ballet world isn't altogether worse than what you'd find in parliament - backstabbing, people sleeping around to get ahead, secret deals and secret handshakes. One moment, you have it all - the next, your hands are empty. Yes, that's familiar enough. It's just hard to care about it when it's about Russian ballet.
Glancing at Claude, he notes the way he looks towards the café. Mm, a glass of wine definitely would be appreciated right now. It's not quite heavy enough for him, the brand they sell here, he prefers it Italian, but it's fine. Tonight's about Claude, after all. About whatever he wants.]
Thirsty? [He turns towards the café slightly, hand already going for his card holder.] A glass of red, perhaps?
[ As if he's read his mind, Jean Louis turns his full attention towards the café before Claude gets the chance to. ]
A glass of red would do wonders right now, yes.
[ He lets the other man leave, following him with his eyes. It's a thought he's nurtured more than once tonight: That Jean Louis Girard might be a neoliberal pig, but he's surprisingly easy on the eye. As in, really fucking gorgeous. Not that Claude is a big advocate of objectifying people, but hey, in this case he's allowed. They're on a date together, there's a context that makes it an understandable trail of thought. As long as it remains in his head, of course.
Claude still can't quite wrap his mind around why exactly he agreed to this. One thing is how he's only met the other man once before, in a much more professional setting, but another is how... Well, an open relationship, Jean Louis called it when he had to explain. His relationship to his boyfriend. Shit, normally it would in itself be a warning sign for Claude, but there's just nothing normal about this date.
First off, Jean Louis is sharing his popcorn, isn't that in itself against his neoliberal views? Claude chuckles. Shakes his head at himself, while he waits for the other man to return. ]
[It doesn't take him many minutes to get two glasses of wine. Of course, the personnel offer to let him go first in line and of course, he politely refuses - he's here on private business, after all, and his voters shouldn't have to move when they aren't paying. Ten seconds later, one of the girls behind the counter brings him two glasses of red, thanks him for his support and scurries back.
Oh yes. Liberté supports culture in Luxembourg City. This little place no doubt benefits from their political efforts as much, if not more than the museums or concert halls.
With a light smile, trying to look at least a little bit embarrassed (definitely not a natural look on him), he heads back to Claude.]
So, the movie. [He holds out the glass, waits for the other man to take it.] Does it fulfill your expectations?
[ The scene plays out like you'd expect it to, Jean Louis' national fame as well as his politics earn him free drinks and Claude raises an eyebrow briefly, so briefly that the other man won't get the chance of seeing it as he returns with the two glasses, holds out one for Claude who accepts it with a smile and a muttered thank you.
Then, he asks him about the movie and Claude figures it's only fair, since it's on his proposal that they're even here. He expects that Jean Louis would never have come on his own, though he's kind of impressed how the politician is putting his interested expression to such good use. At no point has he pretended that it's to his taste, however. That speaks in his favor. ]
It's informative. I only know what I've been told about Russian ballet, I've never had the chance to visit or dance there myself. [ He listens to himself ramble, halts before it gets embarrassing and smiles, loop-sided. Apologetically. He takes a long sip of his wine. It's strong, but not overpowering. ] So, I suppose that's a yes.
[Claude's an interesting man. On the one hand, his presence on stage is quite overpowering from an audience perspective; the fact that even Jean Louis had to pay attention to his solos in Benjamin's current, really long and boring ballet speaks volumes. On the other hand, there's something very soft-spoken and understated about him like this, accepting the glass of wine and clearly trying to temper the length of his reply. Looking for all the world afraid to overstep a boundary that probably doesn't even exist.
It's endearing in a way.]
Judging by this movie, perhaps that's just as well. [He swirls the wine a couple of times before sipping it. Decent, at least. Nothing he'd buy on his own account, though.] The ballet world is certainly dramatic.
It's inhabited by a bunch of drama queens, to be honest.
[ Claude watches Jean Louis over the rim of his glass, watches how he swirls his wine first, like a connoisseur. The man is older than him by a decade, but doesn't present himself as old in any way. Still, their age difference does come across, he senses it in their interaction, though not in any inherently bad way. Jean Louis certainly isn't Rainier. His face blanks for a second, before he manages to pick himself up, quickly adding: ]
Myself included, of course.
[ The smile isn't 100 percent sincere. Taking another sip of his wine, he looks out the windows, watches a couple with a dog crossing the street, the uneven cobblestones. The woman is wearing a pair of very high heels and he doesn't envy her the balancing act.
It occurs to Claude that, besides this date, he hasn't been seeing any men since he came to Luxembourg. He only socialises with the other ballet dancers and then returns to his apartment late at night to sleep. Work and sleep. Shit, he used to be such a social individual, what the fuck happened? Of course he knows what happened. It has a name, too.
He blinks. The hand holding the glass drops a little, he isn't spilling, he's just... recalling. ]
[He smiles. Is about to answer when Claude falls quiet in a way that he can't help but notice - looking... worn. A touch of frailty, perhaps. Considering how young he is, that's interesting as well. Most men in their twenties think themselves invincible. Most aren't, of course, but that's besides the point.
Following his gaze out the window, the view wholly uninteresting (that's a man and a lady walking a dog - really now), he shifts closer until they're standing side by side, a few inches of air between their bodies still. Properly so. Sipping his wine again, he watches the street outside, notes what few points of interest he can glimpse. The store further down the street, a pharmacy - linked to one of their Dutch groups, as he remembers. A small café that he's been to once or twice with Anisette. And of course, the street itself. A small part of this city. His.]
Are you really, Claude? [He glances sideways. Keeps his voice quiet, almost contemplative.] For some of us, drama's just a fact of life - doesn't mean we're looking for it.
[ Jean Louis moves over next to him, but still with a sliver of distance between them, something Claude appreciates greatly, there's a sense of respect to it, like the other man knows to pay heed to his body autonomy. The words he string together seem, on the surface, very polished and politically correct, yet there's a truth to them that soothes Claude's momentarily quivering psyche. For some of us, including himself, then. Claude turns his head and looks up at Jean Louis who isn't much taller than him, but just enough to require that he raises his gaze. He only knows the history of the Foreign Minister's political career superficially, how he started his own party and managed to come out on top, despite all odds. Hey, that seems recognizable, at least. Like a mirror image of something else, someone else.
Look at Claude.
Smiling again, he turns towards Jean Louis fully, reaches out and touches a palm to his elbow briefly, just the hint of touch, nothing inappropriate or invasive. ]
I think, between the two of us, you've probably had it worse. The drama.
[It works like magic every time, doesn't it, understanding what people want or need, then giving it to them. Seems like the simplest calculation in the book but most concern themselves too much with their own needs and urges, failing to understand that the best way to sate them is to gaze outward. For a moment, he senses how the image he's projecting to Claude - not too far from the truth - settles with the other man, synchronising their perspectives for a second or two.
Then, Claude touches his elbow and though it's exceedingly light, barely even a touch, it emphasises the feeling of connection. Odd, how interaction works on so many different levels. You've probably had it worse, he says. Hardly, though he can't help but wonder now exactly what Claude's been through before he came here. To even make comparisons in the first place.]
At least, you know it comes with the job.
[He reaches up, brushing his fingertips very lightly across the top of Claude's knuckles. Two kinds of responses, multiple interpretations. Claude's hand feels warm to the touch. Before he can add anything more, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. His hand falls away.]
[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starter ( date ) part I
For now, though, he's actually more thirsty than hungry and without turning too much to the side, he throws a glance over at the café where they are selling the wine that has secured the place its reputation. Wouldn't a glass of Argentinian make this already rather satisfying date that much more perfect? Claude thinks so and considers asking Jean Louis whether he'd like a glass as well. ]
no subject
Glancing at Claude, he notes the way he looks towards the café. Mm, a glass of wine definitely would be appreciated right now. It's not quite heavy enough for him, the brand they sell here, he prefers it Italian, but it's fine. Tonight's about Claude, after all. About whatever he wants.]
Thirsty? [He turns towards the café slightly, hand already going for his card holder.] A glass of red, perhaps?
no subject
A glass of red would do wonders right now, yes.
[ He lets the other man leave, following him with his eyes. It's a thought he's nurtured more than once tonight: That Jean Louis Girard might be a neoliberal pig, but he's surprisingly easy on the eye. As in, really fucking gorgeous. Not that Claude is a big advocate of objectifying people, but hey, in this case he's allowed. They're on a date together, there's a context that makes it an understandable trail of thought. As long as it remains in his head, of course.
Claude still can't quite wrap his mind around why exactly he agreed to this. One thing is how he's only met the other man once before, in a much more professional setting, but another is how... Well, an open relationship, Jean Louis called it when he had to explain. His relationship to his boyfriend. Shit, normally it would in itself be a warning sign for Claude, but there's just nothing normal about this date.
First off, Jean Louis is sharing his popcorn, isn't that in itself against his neoliberal views? Claude chuckles. Shakes his head at himself, while he waits for the other man to return. ]
no subject
Oh yes. Liberté supports culture in Luxembourg City. This little place no doubt benefits from their political efforts as much, if not more than the museums or concert halls.
With a light smile, trying to look at least a little bit embarrassed (definitely not a natural look on him), he heads back to Claude.]
So, the movie. [He holds out the glass, waits for the other man to take it.] Does it fulfill your expectations?
no subject
Then, he asks him about the movie and Claude figures it's only fair, since it's on his proposal that they're even here. He expects that Jean Louis would never have come on his own, though he's kind of impressed how the politician is putting his interested expression to such good use. At no point has he pretended that it's to his taste, however. That speaks in his favor. ]
It's informative. I only know what I've been told about Russian ballet, I've never had the chance to visit or dance there myself. [ He listens to himself ramble, halts before it gets embarrassing and smiles, loop-sided. Apologetically. He takes a long sip of his wine. It's strong, but not overpowering. ] So, I suppose that's a yes.
no subject
It's endearing in a way.]
Judging by this movie, perhaps that's just as well. [He swirls the wine a couple of times before sipping it. Decent, at least. Nothing he'd buy on his own account, though.] The ballet world is certainly dramatic.
no subject
[ Claude watches Jean Louis over the rim of his glass, watches how he swirls his wine first, like a connoisseur. The man is older than him by a decade, but doesn't present himself as old in any way. Still, their age difference does come across, he senses it in their interaction, though not in any inherently bad way. Jean Louis certainly isn't Rainier. His face blanks for a second, before he manages to pick himself up, quickly adding: ]
Myself included, of course.
[ The smile isn't 100 percent sincere. Taking another sip of his wine, he looks out the windows, watches a couple with a dog crossing the street, the uneven cobblestones. The woman is wearing a pair of very high heels and he doesn't envy her the balancing act.
It occurs to Claude that, besides this date, he hasn't been seeing any men since he came to Luxembourg. He only socialises with the other ballet dancers and then returns to his apartment late at night to sleep. Work and sleep. Shit, he used to be such a social individual, what the fuck happened? Of course he knows what happened. It has a name, too.
He blinks. The hand holding the glass drops a little, he isn't spilling, he's just... recalling. ]
no subject
Following his gaze out the window, the view wholly uninteresting (that's a man and a lady walking a dog - really now), he shifts closer until they're standing side by side, a few inches of air between their bodies still. Properly so. Sipping his wine again, he watches the street outside, notes what few points of interest he can glimpse. The store further down the street, a pharmacy - linked to one of their Dutch groups, as he remembers. A small café that he's been to once or twice with Anisette. And of course, the street itself. A small part of this city. His.]
Are you really, Claude? [He glances sideways. Keeps his voice quiet, almost contemplative.] For some of us, drama's just a fact of life - doesn't mean we're looking for it.
no subject
Look at Claude.
Smiling again, he turns towards Jean Louis fully, reaches out and touches a palm to his elbow briefly, just the hint of touch, nothing inappropriate or invasive. ]
I think, between the two of us, you've probably had it worse. The drama.
no subject
Then, Claude touches his elbow and though it's exceedingly light, barely even a touch, it emphasises the feeling of connection. Odd, how interaction works on so many different levels. You've probably had it worse, he says. Hardly, though he can't help but wonder now exactly what Claude's been through before he came here. To even make comparisons in the first place.]
At least, you know it comes with the job.
[He reaches up, brushing his fingertips very lightly across the top of Claude's knuckles. Two kinds of responses, multiple interpretations. Claude's hand feels warm to the touch. Before he can add anything more, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. His hand falls away.]
Shall we?
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. ]