Truth be told, the offer of a joined dinner is appreciated. A long day in the dusty office, marking accounts and wondering why the numbers never seem to match up the first time around has left him famished. His mother packed him lunch but for some reason, the past many weeks he’s had little inclination to actually indulge in anything she makes for him. He’s tried not to think about the incongruity; the way his fantasy life has seemed to override everything else, leaving no room for her well-meaning gestures. Surely, he’s not taking his inner turmoil out on her – why else would he give the food away rather than take it back home and put it on the table for all to see? In any case, his smile warms at the suggestion as much as the (all too brief) touch of Claude’s hands around his own. Those hands. He’s dreamed… God. Pushing the thought away hastily, he follows Claude’s lead.
“Please, lead the way. I’m sure you must be starving – that was quite an exertion tonight on your part.” He turns away, starts towards the street further down. The Latin Quarters – that’s a good hour’s walk from here. Turning his head slightly to glance at Claude with a raised eyebrow, he adds, “You very much swept me off my feet.”
He’s aware of the romantic implications of the phrase. This time, however, he doesn’t redden or chide himself – after all, it’s innocent enough and Claude’s such a decent man. Unlikely to get offended, consequently, and really; it’s the god-honest truth. Tonight, Vincent watched him and almost felt like he was soaring himself while the bronze idol left the ground behind, the golden dust glittering in the stage light. Besides, over the past weeks his dreams have become more intense, less unforgiving and it’s been almost like a transition – going from terror and humiliation to resignation. He’s not taking it out on anyone, is he? So long as he keeps himself under control outside the confines of his private quarters, aside from God himself, he’ll be the only judge.
no subject
“Please, lead the way. I’m sure you must be starving – that was quite an exertion tonight on your part.” He turns away, starts towards the street further down. The Latin Quarters – that’s a good hour’s walk from here. Turning his head slightly to glance at Claude with a raised eyebrow, he adds, “You very much swept me off my feet.”
He’s aware of the romantic implications of the phrase. This time, however, he doesn’t redden or chide himself – after all, it’s innocent enough and Claude’s such a decent man. Unlikely to get offended, consequently, and really; it’s the god-honest truth. Tonight, Vincent watched him and almost felt like he was soaring himself while the bronze idol left the ground behind, the golden dust glittering in the stage light. Besides, over the past weeks his dreams have become more intense, less unforgiving and it’s been almost like a transition – going from terror and humiliation to resignation. He’s not taking it out on anyone, is he? So long as he keeps himself under control outside the confines of his private quarters, aside from God himself, he’ll be the only judge.