[ He glances sideways. Claude stays close to him, their shoulders brushing as they walk and he gets the sense somehow, even without truly knowing why, that Claude wants to take his hand. Either that, or he wants to take his - wishful thinking is a very real thing, after all. I see says Claude because he does, of course. He knows what it's like to have something that isn't what you'd originally thought and whilst Jean Louis has never felt particularly unhappy with this part of his and Stéphane's relationship (other things, yes, other parts, but not this), there's something about this conversation that rings true across the small space between them as they walk. This is me, it says, and it's also you. This is what it's like, not being alone.

He takes Claude's hand a bit clumsily. Like talking about feelings, it's not something he does. ]

I've always felt very lucky. As you can imagine, there's nothing he can do or say that outweighs this card. He's Head of State. It could become a bomb, eroding his entire, political foundation and we both know it.

[ He straightens a little as he speaks. This, at least, is still true. But then, once you reach that conclusion, you have to reach another by extension. He thinks about Emilia. About the newspapers. Then, just briefly, just very, very briefly, he remembers sitting in that hospital bed weeks later, clutching the sheets every time anyone walked by in the hallway, and she'd cried, afraid for him and afraid for herself.

Even then, the card remained in his hand, hidden from the world.

He adds, looking down at his shoes, at the shadows twisting across the ground: ]

It seems like a childish notion, now.