[ When Claude walks past him, he catches the faint scents of spices in his cologne, something woody, a little contemplative. It's mixed with the more familiar sensory echoes of nightlife - alcohol, smoke, perfumes, people. He hasn't gone to the clubs the past year but the memories from before feel almost visceral, still, like he could shift back half a step and he'd be there once more, body and mind, in a different life. There's a quietness to the other man, though, that's definitely new. He's sought it out in other ways, yet in the people he surrounds himself with on a daily basis, that particular quality is rare. The world of politics is louder. Self-absorbed, hungry.
That, too, is human.
He follows behind the other man, hearing the familiar beeps of the elevator locks activating as he leaves. In addition to his guards, the area surrounding the warehouse is well-secured - the apartment itself, not so much. He doesn't want cameras in his life, after all, they'd be filming him more than anything else and that's not the kind of data he wants to collect.
Claude should, perhaps, have looked out of place amidst the sleek surfaces and glass exterior of his home but somehow, he doesn't. As he stands there in the small lounge area, the cityscape stretched out behind him in the distance, he looks more like something that's been missing. A necessary contrast. Jean Louis takes a seat by the table and takes one of the glasses - crystal flutes, a birthday gift from the youth party, back when he'd turned twenty - looking up at Claude over the edge. ]
You sound very certain. [ A small sip. ] Fear, perhaps not, but why not convenience? This is hardly the opposite.
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That, too, is human.
He follows behind the other man, hearing the familiar beeps of the elevator locks activating as he leaves. In addition to his guards, the area surrounding the warehouse is well-secured - the apartment itself, not so much. He doesn't want cameras in his life, after all, they'd be filming him more than anything else and that's not the kind of data he wants to collect.
Claude should, perhaps, have looked out of place amidst the sleek surfaces and glass exterior of his home but somehow, he doesn't. As he stands there in the small lounge area, the cityscape stretched out behind him in the distance, he looks more like something that's been missing. A necessary contrast. Jean Louis takes a seat by the table and takes one of the glasses - crystal flutes, a birthday gift from the youth party, back when he'd turned twenty - looking up at Claude over the edge. ]
You sound very certain. [ A small sip. ] Fear, perhaps not, but why not convenience? This is hardly the opposite.