nowheretowns: (3)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-16 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's accosted before long, sadly not by Claude but by a very pretty lady with legs the length of the fucking French rivera, her hips swaying just a tad more than you'd expect of someone who was sober but not enough to give away that she's no doubt dead drunk. He recognises her as Claire Joubert, another member of the Assembly and Claude's colleague - he wouldn't know, except he's had the time to read up on the party as well as (or, more importantly) the inclination. She asks him in rolling French whether he's the stripper they'd ordered, her gaze very obviously informing him that he's in the wrong building and at the wrong party, neo-liberal that he is. He smirks and shrugs one shoulder, leaning in close enough that he doesn't have to raise his voice and asking her if she'd prefer it like that, to which she rolls her eyes and steps aside.

Half a breath later, Claude notices him, in the midst of being spun around by some drunken fool or another (he could probably remember his name if he could be bothered, if he weren't touching Claude in that way, too familiar, too close to his heart). He stops. They make eye-contact and for the first time since coming here, Jean Louis allows himself a very, very short moment of panic at the thought that he might not be welcome, that perhaps he should have called or texted - it had been an impulsive decision, one that he'd been prepared to change many, many times throughout the long drive across the border.

Swallowing, he gives the other man an easy smile as he comes over, the girl, Claire, slipping off, out of mind if not out of sight. ]


I have no business here tonight.

[ He unfolds his arms, putting one hand in his pocket when he realises belatedly that he can't pull out of his smokes in here. He looks at Claude and adds with a small nod in his direction, towards the unclaimed space between them: ]

Just a personal errand.
nowheretowns: (15)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-16 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He's on the verge of telling Claude that no, he just happened to be near Paris but in all fairness, he wasn't actually. He could have just as easily gone back home but somehow, seeing the other man, perhaps even congratulating him in person on his victory had seemed important, like a bell chiming persistently in the back of his mind. He could have chosen not to but he didn't and a part of him is relieved, now, even if they end up deciding that he's mostly in the way of whatever plans Claude is sure to have for the night. It's fine. It's right, somehow.

At Claude question, he looks towards the balcony at the other end of the room, the sound of the 8th arrondissement drifting in through the open doors. Definitely, he'd prefer not to have this moment, however long or short it might be, in the doorway in full view of Claude's drunken socialist friends. Claude's drenched in champagne, however, and not exactly dressed for Parisian winter so he pulls off his dark jacket and holds it out for him. ]


I did. [ He fishes out his pack of smokes in an unspoken question. ] Outside?

[ Under other circumstances, he would have just begun walking, people tend to catch up to him if they want to badly enough - but in this case, he stands back, waiting for Claude to either accept his jacket or refuse it, thinking that between the two of them, he doesn't actually want to command anything or anyone.

He doesn't want to make every decision alone. ]
nowheretowns: (11)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-16 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude goes for the courtyard instead and on the way out, he sidles up to him and takes his hand, interlacing their fingers in the sweetest way, very new and slightly strange, and Jean Louis just lets him, curling into him in turn, feeling those remnants of sticky champagne settling on his skin as well. In that sense, Claude's sharing his celebration with him, isn't he? It's good. It's not like he'd come here, expecting anything. ]

I take it you don't smoke.

[ Said with a raised eyebrow, though it's mostly curiosity. Who knows, after all. They know so little of each other still. ]

It's just a matter of shielding the flame.

[ They go down the creaky stairs and exit through a couple of old doors that bind very slightly. Outside in the courtyard, the wind is, indeed, less of a problem, the area rather large with enough space for a garage in one corner along with a couple of tables and benches and small, potted trees, all of them leaf-less now and entwined with glittering lights. He holds Claude's hand as they step outside and he doesn't let go, nor as they head towards a bench in the far corner. There's an ancient-looking vine crawling up the wall behind it, covered in a net of lights - combined with the light from the building coming from up high, the courtyard is lit with a gentleness that seems very suitable for them. Darkness, broken by something a little softer, a little whimsical.

Like its own world, perhaps, the way things seem to be when they find themselves alone together. ]
nowheretowns: (14)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-16 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A small snort of laughter as he recognises the reference - touché, Monsieur Bérubé. They've had a few political discussions since that text message regarding consent and legislature and so far, he concludes that Claude's a lot more dangerous, verbally, than most people would give him credit for. His French contact went as far as to call him vanilla (after which he'd been told quite firmly to shut his fucking face); but as evidenced from his win today, certain things - and people - don't have to look hard to be tough. ]

Honest answer.

[ It doesn't make him look in any way cool or calculated and consequently, he takes a little time to choose his words, grabbing a smoke and lighting up first, keeping the tiny flame well-protected against the remnants of wind still managing to make their way through the courtyard. Honesty isn't the kind of valuta he usually values outside of his professional life - and not too often inside it, either - but in this case, he isn't trying to get them anywhere. They're already here, in a way, and there's no preferable direction, no obvious, logical goal.

It's equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. ]


I hadn't planned this. [ A deep inhalation. The smoke settles in his lungs briefly and his shoulders relax, his entire stance gaining a semblance of slouch. ] I just - came. I'll leave again once you tire of me.

[ Said without a trace of irony or humour - it's not an attempt to convince Claude to take pity on him, after all. It's just the facts, such as they are; Jean Louis felt a need to see him so he came. The rest comes after. ]
nowheretowns: (2)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-16 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ For a moment, Claude just looks at him and there's a particular sort of silence hanging between them, the kind that signifies a weight to the conversation that he doesn't know how to identify. It's truth, of course - he's learned very early on that simply wanting to be in the company of somebody else brings no guarantees of anything at all. All the same, he'd come here with no plans and no contingencies except for the car parked on the street and its gas tank, half-empty. Another long inhalation, calm spreading through his blood as he watches smoke travel upwards seconds later in swirls of grey. It dissipates quickly enough, it's just another thing that passes. The smoke and the calm, both.

Claude, meanwhile, gets to his feet. He slips up close to him again, pressing in against his side and Jean Louis automatically folds his arm around him, pulling him closer. He's warm. The contrast makes him aware of the fact that he's wearing no outerwear and it's cold, though not quite freezing. He's never had a problem with that. He'd much rather freeze than overheat.

When the other man rests his chin on his shoulder, Jean Louis tilts his head sideways to glance at him. You're easier to like than that, he says and something inside of him shudders in response, an old certainty crackling stubbornly. This is what you know, it says and it's a different life and a different time, a stinking house and a stinking man, disappointing and consistently so. This is what you know.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath - full of nicotine, thanks - and blows it away. ]


Don't you have... family things to do? [ It comes out awkward and he frowns at himself, his voice evening out. ] It's no trouble for me to leave in the morning. My car's parked on the street.
nowheretowns: (4)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-17 10:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ There's another pause, more comfortable this time - possibly, Claude's reaching a conclusion of some sort that he isn't in on but that's fine, he can wait. In the space they share, secrets are not the kind of secrets he's used to. They come with a different set of rules that he's yet to fully understand but what he does know is, they won't get him killed. He won't have to kill for them, either. So long as that's true, he's fine with whatever's in between and the gun in his belt is just there for protection, the kind that he's expected to need in his job and not because he frequents another world where being defenseless is the same as being dead.

It's a nice little bubble, whether Claude wants him out of it sooner or later. Nothing's permanent.

At least, nothing that he knows.

When Claude replies, he tells him...

He says...

For a long moment, Jean Louis just stares off unblinkingly into the shadows, the cigarette between his lips burning by itself, his breath caught in his throat. You should do them with me - what, he wants to take him home? For Christmas? The thought is ridiculous and briefly, he considers declining, coming up with some excuse that'll get him out of whatever warped reality this is but for some reason, the words won't come. He's had no family to celebrate with for many years, now. He's had the typical invitations for parties, obviously, throughout the month of December and that's fine, that's just another word for business. Even with Emilia, they typically celebrated by themselves, as her family wanted nothing to do with her. She had her own friends, activists for the most part, and they hadn't necessarily felt safe around him due to his affiliations with the CDP.

He swallows. Gives the remains of his cigarette a critical look and stubs it out. ]


Should I?

[ Are you sure, he doesn't say, or I don't know how to do that. Instead, he shifts and pulls the other man just a little closer, answering his own question before Claude has to reassure him again - because he's well aware, the man's already done so twice and that, in itself, is unacceptable. He's not a child. And this is not the kind of danger that you run from, if something like that even exists. He straightens a little. ]

Sounds like a nice change.