LOG

[reiterated]

With: Claude Bérubé
In: Krass
For: Workingtitle

[The club's busy tonight, as is true for most Saturdays. He's been watching Claude for the better part of the last thirty minutes, eyes narrowed slightly in the darkness and Sisi gravitating back and forth between him and Günther. There's drama happening between them at the moment, apparently. Cute. Let the children play.

Straightening up, he watches as Martin breaks off his conversation with Claude downstairs, the two of them having been chatting on and off ever since his arrival. Apparently, other people want drinks as well tonight; who would have thought? Heading downstairs quickly, he slips through the crowd with natural ease, claiming the empty seat next to Claude and shooting him a calm smile, nothing too sharp.]

Oh my. [He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. His French is fluent enough.] Did he leave you to your own devices tonight, Claude? What a rascal.

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[padampadam]

[His face falls very tangibly. Drowning a large mouthful of soft alcohol, a caress on his tongue, in a futile attempt to soothe his temper, Claude swallows and pushes the drink aside. No more for him, for tonight. Not with a shit-stirrer like Timm around; who knows, he might lose composure and beat the crap out of him. Wouldn't be the first time. This hot French head of his...]

When I disagree with Vincent, it's not really verbal dominance, you know. [Carefulness and close watch aside, he's being completely frank. Honest.] I just want to listen to him talk some more.

[Hell, he could listen to Vincent talk forever and ever. His world view interests Claude, in the same way that the feel of his body does. At this point, the two have become inseparable - the mental and the physical. Claude has never truly been attracted to anything less than that, has he? Not that he expects Timm of all people to understand. The man appears to care about nothing besides the way his reflection looks.]

[reiterated]

[A lazy shrug. Claude can think of it as he likes - in the end, everybody just wraps up unpleasant truths to spare themselves and why would Vincent's newest obsession be any different? Why would anyone? God, he loves the world, it's so predictable.]

Sure you do. Especially in bed, right? [Another sip. Then, a wink. In Claude's general direction, seeing as Timm doesn't particularly care who receives it. So long as he gets laid, it's a night well-spent.] I'm just saying. The man's not into healthy relationships. But then again, you aren't here to stay, are you? [His smile widens as he turns his attention more fully on Claude.] Maybe that's why he likes you so much. It would certainly complete the picture.

[padampadam]

[A long pause follows, Timm's words echoing in the loudness filling the club, the dance floor. Feeling his jaw setting, Claude gets to his feet, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulders, not even staying still long enough to slip his arms into the sleeves. Shit, what a fucking arsehole. What a fucking --]

No. [Chipped and cold. Usually, the coolness scales in their relationship is maintained by Vincent, but Vincent isn't here. Fire and brimstone aside, Claude is fully capable of freezing Hell over.] I'm not here to stay.

[He doesn't thank the other man for the drink (Timm gets too much for free at Krass, king of his castle) or bid him goodnight before turning around, facing the exit, a sea of men in various stages of undress stretching out between him and salvation. Well, Moses did it. So, he breaches the waves. In every way that matters.

Maybe there's an email from Vincent waiting for him back at the apartment.]