Oh, he can imagine – vividly – how hard it would be for most people to resist Claude’s charms. He can imagine. With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, he pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat, feeling chilled despite the gentleness of the night. It’s always the same with him, frailty above all else. But what can a man do, really, aside from combat the symptoms as best as possible?
“The rich are a curious class of people, aren’t they? They cheat and commit fraud without even a blink of the eye – no wonder they see treachery everywhere.” He should know. Monsieur LeBeau is very much a prime example. Vincent knows for a fact that multiple aspects of his business go either undetected on the accounts or are re-classified for private needs. The man’s never going to admit it – and Vincent’s never going to expose him, either – but the fact is, riches are inherently dirty. Filthy, as you might say. “It’s good, knowing that no one truly deserving missed out tonight because of me.”
Perhaps it’s just an accident. Surely. His body merely happens to gravitate in the direction of Claude’s with enough momentum that he can’t avoid it – the sudden body contact, their shoulders rubbing against each other for at least a few seconds before he recoils, putting at least an additional foot between them. Behind him, his shadow jumps along the ground along with his long legs, Claude’s contour a solid block of see-through black streaked across the street.
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“The rich are a curious class of people, aren’t they? They cheat and commit fraud without even a blink of the eye – no wonder they see treachery everywhere.” He should know. Monsieur LeBeau is very much a prime example. Vincent knows for a fact that multiple aspects of his business go either undetected on the accounts or are re-classified for private needs. The man’s never going to admit it – and Vincent’s never going to expose him, either – but the fact is, riches are inherently dirty. Filthy, as you might say. “It’s good, knowing that no one truly deserving missed out tonight because of me.”
Perhaps it’s just an accident. Surely. His body merely happens to gravitate in the direction of Claude’s with enough momentum that he can’t avoid it – the sudden body contact, their shoulders rubbing against each other for at least a few seconds before he recoils, putting at least an additional foot between them. Behind him, his shadow jumps along the ground along with his long legs, Claude’s contour a solid block of see-through black streaked across the street.