[ He hears Claude entering the bathroom, as he would have heard anyone, whether they were trying to be sneaky or not. Claude obviously isn't - he's just here to brush his teeth. About to turn his attention away and focus on his shower once more, he pauses in his tracks as he hears the tell-tale sign of a body, shifting closer - and then, the shower curtain rustling until Claude's sticking his face inside, far enough out to avoid getting sprayed. Jean Louis glances over his shoulder at him. For some reason, it suddenly feels very... obvious that he's naked and Claude isn't. His skin tingles slightly at the feel of it, not in a bad way. It's... exciting, somehow, and interesting. ]
Of course.
[ He turns around, standing with his back to the spray and backing up a little in invitation. Claude's dressed in a warm-looking sweater with an odd motive (all Christmas motives are odd, in his opinion - ugly and a little foolish, like someone decided to commercialize harmlessness and for some inexplicable reason, everybody's buying into it). Due to the steam, his curls have already started to look a little bit frizzy near the top and there's something about his eyes, something soft and open. He's lovely.
Rolling his left shoulder absently, he waits for the other man to join him, hopefully sans the ugly sweater. He runs his fingers through his hair, flattening it against his head, the longest strands reaching his shoulders now. The rest is all over his face - the cut is very visibly meant to be styled.
He wonders how Claude's going to look with his curls soaked through. ]
no subject
Of course.
[ He turns around, standing with his back to the spray and backing up a little in invitation. Claude's dressed in a warm-looking sweater with an odd motive (all Christmas motives are odd, in his opinion - ugly and a little foolish, like someone decided to commercialize harmlessness and for some inexplicable reason, everybody's buying into it). Due to the steam, his curls have already started to look a little bit frizzy near the top and there's something about his eyes, something soft and open. He's lovely.
Rolling his left shoulder absently, he waits for the other man to join him, hopefully sans the ugly sweater. He runs his fingers through his hair, flattening it against his head, the longest strands reaching his shoulders now. The rest is all over his face - the cut is very visibly meant to be styled.
He wonders how Claude's going to look with his curls soaked through. ]