[ Sen, unbeknownst to Enri, had begun to feel badly about jostling him, down to a wide-eyed, wounded expression on Enri's face. However, Enri has one expression for a range of emotions - doe-eyed apology, fretting, sorrow. Worry.
Certainly, he'd been a little sad about the sudden stop to his fun with Darius, and okay, he'd been playing it up a little, but his primary focus in that moment had been the sound of a hand slapping his boyfriend. He didn't think Darius was hurt, and it seemed like this was something that occasionally occurred between the two friends - but he didn't like it. He had discretely run a hand up Darius's back, rested it soothingly on the back of his head, and had, when the other man began began looking him over (between a heart-thudding warmth and a breath of awe) given a glance full of apology and questioning.
What he'd mouthed back: hey, beautiful.
What his sorrowful, slightly tipsy, doe-eyed glance had said: Are you hurt?
And. I'll kiss it better.
And. Miss you already.
And he had wound his arms comfortably around Daddy while he ranted at Sen, right up until he introduced Enri as my Enri.
He had straightened, glowing with pleasure, because Daddy had - right here in this bar with its nice purple and its nice drinks, where everyone knows Darius Scarlett and all the boys he's fucked with - introduced him as my Enri, to a guy who's allowed to slap the back of his head and get away with it. (A friend. Family?)
(He will later amend that to "family", without a question mark, because he realizes this is a bit like meeting Darius's parents.)
And Sen shakes his hand. Enri clocks something in his hesitation, and he knows it's not anything to do with himself. It's something about Sen, something about how he held back Darius that night with Mark but didn't try to hold back Enri, how he was cuddled up to the blond on the sofa. Something about how he steps aside carefully, gracefully, when people move past so that he's just out of proximity for accidental touches. (He'll notice, later, Sen doesn't return claps on the shoulder. He stiffens in unfamiliar embraces.) Sen doesn't touch people much, he thinks. But he touches Enri, a shake that reminds him of a million hands he's known all his life. Rough, strong, but careful.
Like his own.
He likes Sen immediately.
Maybe likes him a little more for the manic look on his face when Enri asks about the horse joke. Darius, of course, sounds apoplectic, so Enri navigates silently, his head resting on Daddy's shoulder, his eyes a little wider and raised innocently, hand caressing a steady stroke up and down his side. Okay, nevermind. See how good I'm being?
And that.
Is when Rin Renault enters stage left.
Because that's how it feels. An entrance. He half expects an audience applause track. He knows without question this is Rin, because -
Well, for one thing, Sen gets the stupidest look on his face, as though he's been hit with a frying pan, and clearly he's forgotten all about the horse joke. His hand finds a place on Rin with no hesitation at all, and Enri swears to god (Darius) that they remind him of grandparents. Not his grandparents. But someone's. Old people in love. It's as much that they're totally vibing with one another as it is that they're performing together. It feels like he's watching a home movie, actually.
For another, though.
For another thing, he can't tell what sex Rin is. It's a perfect, seamless performance of - every gender. No gender? He doesn't think to call it androgyny. It's like how his drink isn't whiskey or honey anymore, even though it has both (he'd actually like another drink of that -), but also how it's not anything else. Rin's a perfect cocktail.
He's caught up in this assessment, eyes wondering and faintly impressed, when he realizes Rin has slipped into French and lowered their voice.
He blinks.
Darius speaks French. They must know Darius speaks French.
So the French is for privacy. From him - about bar business? That's kind of weird. He flickers hurt at the exclusion from the conversation, turns his attention to fiddling with the buttons of Daddy's shirt and pretending not to follow Sen's gaze to the left.
He sees a couple getting up at the behest of bar staff, one of them angrier, louder, darting glances in the direction of his sofa. Hey - he knows that guy. That's Jerry. That's Alice's doctor, the one Alice called to come see him after the trip, to give him some medication he subsequently dumped down the toilet.
And the guy with him. Oh. Yeah, he knows that guy. He -
Rin's talking to him again, so he raises his head and meets the green-eyed scrutiny. He feels a flinch of disquiet. (Rin doesn't like him. Doesn't trust him. Doesn't want him here.) (He's not good enough.) (He did something wrong.) (He shouldn't have had alcohol, it always makes him (more) stupid -)
(Daddy said he should play into it when people don't think he's smart -)
He pushes back from (the moment) those thoughts and gives an untroubled, pleased smile - a dumb kid, happy to be noticed. Nods confirmation: he sure is Enri Anderson (though that's not true, is it?) ]
Yeah. I guess you're Mx. Renault?
[ A polite pause and, with a tint to his smile speaking of an eagerness to please, and an unawareness that he shouldn't ask about things that were said in confidence - ]
no subject
Certainly, he'd been a little sad about the sudden stop to his fun with Darius, and okay, he'd been playing it up a little, but his primary focus in that moment had been the sound of a hand slapping his boyfriend. He didn't think Darius was hurt, and it seemed like this was something that occasionally occurred between the two friends - but he didn't like it. He had discretely run a hand up Darius's back, rested it soothingly on the back of his head, and had, when the other man began began looking him over (between a heart-thudding warmth and a breath of awe) given a glance full of apology and questioning.
What he'd mouthed back: hey, beautiful.
What his sorrowful, slightly tipsy, doe-eyed glance had said: Are you hurt?
And. I'll kiss it better.
And. Miss you already.
And he had wound his arms comfortably around Daddy while he ranted at Sen, right up until he introduced Enri as my Enri.
He had straightened, glowing with pleasure, because Daddy had - right here in this bar with its nice purple and its nice drinks, where everyone knows Darius Scarlett and all the boys he's fucked with - introduced him as my Enri, to a guy who's allowed to slap the back of his head and get away with it. (A friend. Family?)
(He will later amend that to "family", without a question mark, because he realizes this is a bit like meeting Darius's parents.)
And Sen shakes his hand. Enri clocks something in his hesitation, and he knows it's not anything to do with himself. It's something about Sen, something about how he held back Darius that night with Mark but didn't try to hold back Enri, how he was cuddled up to the blond on the sofa. Something about how he steps aside carefully, gracefully, when people move past so that he's just out of proximity for accidental touches. (He'll notice, later, Sen doesn't return claps on the shoulder. He stiffens in unfamiliar embraces.) Sen doesn't touch people much, he thinks. But he touches Enri, a shake that reminds him of a million hands he's known all his life. Rough, strong, but careful.
Like his own.
He likes Sen immediately.
Maybe likes him a little more for the manic look on his face when Enri asks about the horse joke. Darius, of course, sounds apoplectic, so Enri navigates silently, his head resting on Daddy's shoulder, his eyes a little wider and raised innocently, hand caressing a steady stroke up and down his side. Okay, nevermind. See how good I'm being?
And that.
Is when Rin Renault enters stage left.
Because that's how it feels. An entrance. He half expects an audience applause track. He knows without question this is Rin, because -
Well, for one thing, Sen gets the stupidest look on his face, as though he's been hit with a frying pan, and clearly he's forgotten all about the horse joke. His hand finds a place on Rin with no hesitation at all, and Enri swears to god (Darius) that they remind him of grandparents. Not his grandparents. But someone's. Old people in love. It's as much that they're totally vibing with one another as it is that they're performing together. It feels like he's watching a home movie, actually.
For another, though.
For another thing, he can't tell what sex Rin is. It's a perfect, seamless performance of - every gender. No gender? He doesn't think to call it androgyny. It's like how his drink isn't whiskey or honey anymore, even though it has both (he'd actually like another drink of that -), but also how it's not anything else. Rin's a perfect cocktail.
He's caught up in this assessment, eyes wondering and faintly impressed, when he realizes Rin has slipped into French and lowered their voice.
He blinks.
Darius speaks French. They must know Darius speaks French.
So the French is for privacy. From him - about bar business? That's kind of weird. He flickers hurt at the exclusion from the conversation, turns his attention to fiddling with the buttons of Daddy's shirt and pretending not to follow Sen's gaze to the left.
He sees a couple getting up at the behest of bar staff, one of them angrier, louder, darting glances in the direction of his sofa. Hey - he knows that guy. That's Jerry. That's Alice's doctor, the one Alice called to come see him after the trip, to give him some medication he subsequently dumped down the toilet.
And the guy with him. Oh. Yeah, he knows that guy. He -
Rin's talking to him again, so he raises his head and meets the green-eyed scrutiny. He feels a flinch of disquiet. (Rin doesn't like him. Doesn't trust him. Doesn't want him here.) (He's not good enough.) (He did something wrong.) (He shouldn't have had alcohol, it always makes him (more) stupid -)
(Daddy said he should play into it when people don't think he's smart -)
He pushes back from (the moment) those thoughts and gives an untroubled, pleased smile - a dumb kid, happy to be noticed. Nods confirmation: he sure is Enri Anderson (though that's not true, is it?) ]
Yeah. I guess you're Mx. Renault?
[ A polite pause and, with a tint to his smile speaking of an eagerness to please, and an unawareness that he shouldn't ask about things that were said in confidence - ]
Hey, what language was that?