|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 1, 2012 16:42:50 GMT -5
His smirk slipped just a little when his insult seemed to simply be brushed off by the Frenchman. Arthur had failed to get many reactions from the man who he thought must either have the patience of a saint or missed his implications. After all, he’d insulted him and his culture and yet the man had still invited him out. It couldn’t possibly be a French thing to be so hospitable; this guy had to be an exception.
Francis had every right to take it as a yes, because pride would never let him agree directly. A yes hidden behind words of annoyance. He probably wasn’t as irritated as he led on, although the hand on his shoulder earned the man a dirty scowl.
Arthur didn’t mind that he held the door open, but the simple ‘after you’ irritated him. He wasn’t a girl after all. “I don’t have all day.” The Brit crossed his arms, waiting impatiently for the other to direct him, even if he honestly wasn’t far behind at all. Maybe just one small part of him wanted the Frenchman to put his hand back on his shoulder… a tiny part. One that he would never recognise the existence of.
“Where is this place?"
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 9, 2012 18:02:39 GMT -5
"Ah, of course, of course." he replied in what sounded like a just-a-tiny-bit teasing tone. How could have Francis forgotten that he was undoubtedly talking with someone with a very busy agenda? Someone who - he assumed - was so bored that he had to hide in a bookshop he didn't seem to like in search of something he didn't seem to like either. Besides, he was really accepting his request, and sure, Francis' charme was impossible to resist, but...
"It won't take us long. Unless you plan to eat a lot, which takes time." he evaluated Arthur with critic eyes. He was thin - no surprise, English food was so bad one would rather starve to death instead of eating it - and he had a nice ass (or so it seemed, he had taken a glimpse of it in the moment in which Arthur had gone out of the shop, and the moment was too short to evaluate it properly, but Francis trusted his first impressions in that field).
"Anyway, the place is just down there. Come." he strolled along the street with a relaxed smile, avoiding any further physical contact with the British (he hadn't missed the glare, earlier, and although it had caused a weird fluttering in his stomach, he knew he could wait to give it a second try later, at the table~).
"Would you like to sit outside?" he glanced at the kids at the table nearby, wondering if they would bother Arthur, and guessing that they probably would. In any case, he gallantly shifted a chair offering to his brand new friend to sit down.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 10, 2012 6:40:22 GMT -5
Of course, Arthur didn’t appreciate the patronising tone either particularly and made sure the other could see it when he threw him yet another irritated look… as if he was being forced into this. And he wasn’t! Yet he kept asking himself: why was he bothering? Maybe it was because he was good looking… Or because he seemed to share the same appreciation of literature. But it probably also had to do with the fact that a lot of people that met him didn’t seem to, well, appreciate his company. The last time he’d been asked out to coffee by someone he hardly knew was in college.
It was probably a good thing Francis didn’t bring up his thoughts on British cuisine as the Brit would undoubtedly take offence. “I’m only having tea.” He stated, not particularly hungry at this point in time. Arthur was definitely leaning towards the lanky side but honestly it was because he never had much of an appetite. That of course may have had much to do with the fact that he hardly ever exercised, but it also seemed inherent in his family.
Since it seemed the Frenchman had absolutely no plans to make any more physical contact with him he made sure to stand a few feet away. If he wasn’t getting any he saw no reason to act like he wanted some. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say now so he let the other lead him to the small café on the coble stone streets. “Outside is fine.” He had noticed the children but they didn’t bother him in the least… in fact, he had to fight the urge to smile and wave at the little girl who was looking at them.
Unfortunately, even if his mood was lifted ever so slightly by his internal fawning over the children, it soured quickly when Francis gestured for him to sit. He went out of his way to walk around the table and sit on the chair which hadn’t been offered to him.
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 10, 2012 7:43:23 GMT -5
Francis was actually a bit surprised when he noticed that Arthur didn't glare at the children; in fact, he could swear he saw his eyes soften a bit, which was unexpected. Less unexpected should have been, instead, the British' sour face as he deliberately ignored his kind (kind! Gallant!) offer to sit on the other side of the table. Oh well, he should have known, Francis guessed, and he shrugged lightly with a smile as he sat on the ignored chair.
"There is no way you can sit here and have only tea." he replied, anyway "C'mon, a bit of cream or chocolate doesn't hurt, you know? It helps the mood, too." he winked, implying that he thought Arthur would use some help for his grumpiness. "Besides, you'd really miss something if you declined my offer, their pastries and cakes are delicious... they're French." he underlined the word, as the adjective itself provided enough of an explanation. French, not English, was the subtext.
He waved to catch the attention of the waitress that was looking at them from inside the shop, and then brought his attention on Arthur. "Don't tell me that since you hate this place you're refusing to eat French food and that you're starving yourself just to avoid it?" he said, looking at the other with a parental-like, oh-my-god-have-you-been-eating-enough-poor-baby? kind of look that was probably going to make Arthur mad.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 10, 2012 8:06:13 GMT -5
Honestly, tea was all he wanted at this point… he wasn’t a huge fan of overly sweet foods anyway, which probably explained why he was so taken by British cuisine. He didn’t miss the quip about his mood, but decided to let it slide this time, since he probably hadn’t made the best first impression… not that it was nice of him to point it out now of all times. However, the second slight made against him (in a sense) irritated him to no end. “Yes… as is the bane of my existence.” And of course Francis was included in that particular equation. Although, he probably wouldn’t have stayed there if that were entirely true.
Why was he still sitting there anyway?
Once again, even if it was just a joke Arthur took offence and scowled back. He knew he was thin, and he couldn’t help that really. He didn’t think it was particularly nice of the other to draw attention to it… if that was indeed what he was doing, and he could be doing little else. “Sod off. Is it that hard to believe I’m not hungry? Not everyone eats seven courses in one sitting.” He crossed his arms and leant back in his seat sulkily before turning to the waitress and simply saying. “Earl Grey.” With the desperate hope that she’d understand him. “Please.”
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 14, 2012 17:24:54 GMT -5
Francis chuckled. "The bane of your existence, eh? Pffft... We have to change that, then." he decided. Seriously, he couldn't understand people who refused to try something good when they had the chance. He turned to the waitress. "I'll have a coffee, and please, bring us two eclairs as well." he added with a kind smile.
He turned back to Arthur before he started protesting. "Life is short enough as it is, don't tell me you don't want to accept at least a bite of pure deliciousness, mh?" again, he winked "After all, I'm the one who's paying." Francis placed his elbows on the table, and his chin on the back of his hands, fingers tangled, and looked at the man with half-opened eyes. "It's like a bet... you try one small piece of pastry, and if you like it, I win. If you don't like it, well, I'll eat the rest and.. hey, I get to win in any case!" he smiled brightly.
No, he wasn't the type to eat seven courses in one sitting, but he liked sweets - he liked anything sweet, he would point out, "sweet" including also everything spicy... spicy not in the sense of "spicy food", of course. Ah, Francis.
"So." Francis' back straightened, and he leant back on the chair. "What are you doing in Paris, anyway? At this point, I'm pretty sure it's not a trip of pleasure." he said. On that man, it rather looked like a punishment, indeed.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 14, 2012 19:48:44 GMT -5
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the challenge, because once he had an opinion it could be near impossible to change it. He had a way of looking at everything in the world and often refused to see things in any other light. “I said-” He started irritably only to be cut off by Francis’ speech on life… living it once, or whatever it was. What caught him more off guard was that he was insisting on paying despite the fact that they’d just met. Part of him wanted to shout that he wasn’t some beggar and could pay for his own meal… but he’d gone and ordered him something he didn’t want to begin with. Further, he’d practically forced him to come out with him (or that’s what he decided he would tell himself from now on) so he should pay.
“Don’t wink at me.” Was all he managed with a scoff and rolled his eyes at the silly bet which it seemed he wouldn’t win no matter how he played. “Oh? Well good for you.” His tone was dripping with venomous sarcasm.
Honestly, Arthur probably wasn’t as much ‘spicy’, as he was bitter.
And now he was forced to sit in the Frenchman’s company and wait for the desert he would inevitably like and be annoyed about and the heavenly drink to accompany it. He didn’t really feel like talking… and answering that question especially because he’d asked himself the same thing many times these past few days. “I’m on a holiday.” He said simply, although it probably didn’t make a whole lot of sense; why he would go somewhere he clearly didn’t like. Not that he owed Francis an explanation… “It was either here or Scotland and God knows that won’t happen in this life time.”
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 17, 2012 16:44:05 GMT -5
Francis' eyes narrowed a bit. The more the Frenchman offered in terms of hospitality (if their "date" could be defined as such - but then again, Paris was his city, and Francis felt like he was in charge of making it look good in the eyes of strangers), the more the man seemed to despise it. And yet, he was still sitting at his same table. Francis liked this kind of game. The weird thing was that Arthur's rejection of... everything, from the food to his winks to whatever, was spontaneous. So, Francis assumed, even the fact that he hadn't ran away yet must have been spontaneous. He surely wasn't doing only to be polite.
"I can't avoid winking, I'm sorry for that." he admitted simply. Flirting came natural to him, he couldn't really do anything about that - especially with someone like Arthur, but he couldn't admit it just now.
Holiday, mh? "I went to Edimburg once, lovely place." he said with a wide grin. "A bit too dark for my taste, but still nice." He looked in the man's green eyes for a while. "You look like one of those kids who are dragged around by their parents in places where they are supposed to have fun, but that they hate. It'd be funnier, though, if you had some playmate." he suggested, implying that, if Arthur didn't have anyone else to meet, he was quite ready to take the role. "You know, the more the merrier and all that jazz."
In the meanwhile, the waitress came bringing their drinks and the deserts, placing their cups in front of the two men and leaving the plate with the eclairs on the table between them. Francis thanked her with all the charm that could grace his smile, and she left with a soft blush on her cheeks.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on May 17, 2012 18:00:49 GMT -5
Arthur would never define this as a ‘date’, even if there is a part of him he chooses to smother which would like to. It was as much a mystery to Francis as it was to the Brit as to why he hadn’t run away yet.
He scowled in question when he actually apologised for not being able to stop winking… like it was some sort of disease of compulsive habit. “Fine…” He’d never admit this, but it was nice to be flirted with by someone good looking that seemed like he was perusing him. Although he was certain nothing would come of it. Francis was probably one of those people that enjoyed the chase and nothing more. If that was what was even going on here… and Arthur would like to believe it was.
It surprised him a bit that the Frenchman chose to compliment one of his favourite places, even if it was followed by something he decided to take as an insult. “I have family there. It’s gorgeous.” He found no better place to be inspired by architecture and landscape. “I don’t know what you mean by dark.” That was a lie; he could see it but of course had to disagree with the man. He caught himself staring into Francis’ eyes, which he allowed himself to think were irritatingly pretty, before looking away again.
Is that how he came off? Well it probably wasn’t far from how he felt. Although this time he really couldn’t understand what the other meant. Because it did sound like an offer to say, show him around the city, but didn’t Francis have to work? Surely he didn’t have that much free time. And who said he wanted HIS company anyway!? “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.” He admitted, honest this time.
Before he could get an answer though there deserts and drinks were placed on the table. He would have thanked the woman too if Francis hadn’t made a show of it. Arthur hadn’t missed the way she blushed and rolled his eyes; at him or her, he wasn’t sure. Suddenly it didn’t feel quite so special to be flirted with by Francis, and his mood plummeted once more.
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 1, 2012 17:41:22 GMT -5
((asfghjkl again, I'm very sorry for disappearing >_<))
Arthur's reply, "Fine", brought a sincere smile on Francis' face, as it was a small victory on the grumpy Englishman who seemed to never be okay with anything, let alone Francis' attitude. "Easy, easy, I didn't mean anything bad with dark, don't take everything as if it was a personal attack, I told you I liked the place!" Francis said, waving one hand mindlessly. That puppy was eager to bite, eheh~ "It was a feeling, you know? With all the rain we got there, I could hardly get any other impression." he almost tried to justify himself.
For a moment, their eyes met and Francis caught the chance in order to stare at the man's irides with intention. They were bright and vivid, two precious gems mounted in a messy frame of golden hair. He found that wilderness somehow intriguing.
He chuckled a bit when Arthur asked him what his goal was, but took his time to answer. He put some sugar in his coffee and took a small sip. What was he getting at? Good question, indeed. Francis himself wasn't sure - he simply found Arthur a pleasant change from his now flat life routine. He didn't have anything to do that week, basically, and the same was true for the week after, and for the whole month. It was true for his whole life as well. "What do you think?" he asked, leaning forward with the same smile hed had just dedicated to the waitress "We met by chance in a shop, then we go out for a coffee... isn't this just the most cliché way to start a holiday romance?" he teased, holding the small coffee spoon to reach for Arthur's hand.
Before any abrupt reaction from Arthur's side, he leant back with a small laugh. "The truth is that I have a lot of free time, nowadays. And my guess is that you could use someone to help you discover the city and some love for it." he explained simply. Besides, although he had put that "holiday romance" thing as a joke, he wasn't excluding any possibility. After all, he did find Arthur attractive, in his own peculiar way. He didn't care to add this, though, but simply stared at him from behind his cup, letting the other interpret his answer in the way he preferred.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jun 1, 2012 19:09:25 GMT -5
(No worries XD this week was tough for me too)
Arthur pursed his lips slightly at the defensive reaction, although it didn’t seem as though Francis was teasing him about it. “Calling something ‘dark’ has rather negative connotations.” In case the other hadn’t picked that up, but his reasoning made him bite the inside of his cheek. Yes, it did rain a lot. And despite telling himself that this situation they were in was completely ridiculous he was torn, debating about offering to return the favour. He felt as though, even if he was French, they probably shared at least a few similar values, and he could definitely force him to appreciate the city more for what it was.
His eyes didn’t leave Francis as he fiddled with his coffee, waiting for some sort of justification which he seemed intent on not giving him. And when he did receive it he almost wished he hadn’t. That smile said it all before his words, but Arthur found he still didn’t have time to brace. “What?” He spluttered, blood rushing straight to his cheeks to paint almost his entire face red. “That’s not-!”
Francis cut across him though with a laugh and the Englishman scowled, not knowing what to think. It had been a long time since anyone had riled up so many of his emotions at one time. Even when the Frenchman amended himself, Arthur wasn’t sure how he should feel.
There was a strong part of him that told him to reject that offer, to simply tell him ‘I don’t need a guide and I certainly don’t need /you/’. But his joke had brought up another question to do with intentions. Was all this just some sort of game to chase him into bed? The way he was staring at him over the steaming cup in hand told him that he might not be wrong. It was a startling revelation, but not one he was… entirely opposed to.
“Well that’s… certainly generous.” He said, colour never leaving his cheeks and nervousness gnawing at his insides now. That wasn’t a yes.
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 8, 2012 16:16:43 GMT -5
(June is June for everyone I guess @@)
Francis shrugged lightly. "Desolé, but English isn't my first language." he apologized sheepishly. Despite being French, he didn't dislike English - it wasn't as beautiful as French was, though, and he also thought that talking in English reduced the charme of his words and speeches. French was still the real language of love, wasn't it? He thought he could give a demonstration of it to Arthur, but he could save that for later. If there was going to be a "later", that is.
Anyway, he couldn't help being delighted at Arthur's reaction. What a cute, little hissing kitty was he~ "Of course it's generous. I mean, I'm a generous person, in every aspect." he said, implying... well, everything that there was to imply. He had always considered himself a generous person, in friendship and love. In fact, he had always thought he had too much love to give to invest it all on a single person. Until Jeanne, that is - but he'd rather avoid the topic, even in his mind. He lowered his eyes, and took the small, silver fork and cutting one piece of eclair. He put it on the tip of the fork and then raised it towards Arthur.
"Please, be the first!" he offered with his usual smile. The pastry was creamy and soft-looking, and he was actually anticipating the moment Arthur's lips would close on it as the man took a bit of it.
He hadn't actually asked him to the café with that in mind - or at least, he hadn't realized it. Now he was becoming aware that he was rather attracted by the English man. It wasn't just the fact that he was attractive, in a special way - the fact that he acted so angrily and yet obediently was definitely something the Frenchman liked, and quite a lot.
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jun 9, 2012 8:11:27 GMT -5
“I noticed.” Arthur said rather dismissively and with just a little bit of a bite which could easily offend most people. Although it seemed he’d yet to get under Francis’ skin… the man either had a lot of patience or he wanted something. Somehow the Brit doubted it was the former.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his self-proclaimed generosity, even if he was the one who initially gave him the compliment. Although he wasn’t completely sure it was simple generosity… how often did someone come across such a ‘kind’ stranger? Even if he did have a lot of time… why waste it on him?
….
If Francis expected to personally feed him without complaint he was in for a rude awakening. “I am capable of feeding myself!” Arthur snapped irately, slamming his teacup back onto its saucer in a fashion far from gentlemanly. The beverage sloshed over his left hand, but he tried to pay it no mind. He saw the gesture as degrading almost… taking offence immediately to the simple lifting of a fork. And really, after comparing their meeting to a typical chick flick, did Francis really think he could get away with this? “I can also pay for myself!” He huffed, although the total effect of his anger was probably ruined (at least slightly) by his continuously glowing face. “And I have no need for an escort… so…” He shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, counting out the bills before realizing… he had no idea how much the meal cost or even a general idea.
“………….”
He frowned, knowing that he was over reacting but tried to tell himself it was justified. Arthur, even with all his pride, couldn’t figure out why Francis would pursue him of all people. Surely he had options. Better looking people to waste time with….
|
|
|
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 11, 2012 17:28:58 GMT -5
Okay, Francis had gone one step further than allowed. Not that it wasn't worth it, he decided looking at the adorably enraged face of the man.
"Fine, fine, I wasn't trying to poison you or anything, you know?" he said, putting down the fork and gesturing with his hands slowly, as he was calming down a barking dog that had just startled for nothing. "But you shouldn't react this badly." he said, suddenly looking serious and concerned "Look there..." he pointed at Arthur's hand, covered in tea. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, taking one of the paper napkins from the table and carefully padding Arthur's hand.
"I'm sure you can do all that." he replied quietly, putting the napkin away and taking the fork again. "You look old enough for it." he stated simply. He couldn't tell how old Arthur was, precisely, but although he seemed younger than Francis, he still looked old enough to take care of himself. "But I'll be quite offended, you know, since I invited you here and everything." He took the piece of pastry on the fork and made it disappear quickly in his mouth. Heavenly taste, as expected.
"And these eclairs would be offended too, since they were made for you to eat them and they came out so delicious." he declared, looking at Arthur with intention. How could the man actually resist such a temptation?
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jun 12, 2012 7:20:55 GMT -5
Arthur had always had a tendency to over react, but his pride would never allow him to blame himself or listen to reason. Somehow this was all Francis’ fault. And yet, for once, he knew that it wasn’t… not that it was his fault that they were in this situation either. He didn’t know if he should try to make amends or not.
“Don’t touch me.” He snapped, pulling his hand out of reach. In all honesty, the Brit wasn’t entirely used to human contact when it wasn’t a relative’s and his default reaction was always to move away from it. “I’m fine.” Although his searing red flesh said differently; he thought it looked worse than it felt. Francis was still showing him kindness in his gesture (which admittedly had felt kind of nice) and the realisation annoyed him all the more when he was clearly trying to make this difficult for him. It made him the bad guy.
Francis wasn’t making it entirely easy to tolerate his presence though with the jokes and gestures… if anything it was confusing Arthur about his intentions. Of course his ever expressive face reflected this confusion. “Offended?! You’d have no right!” He sounded more startled than actually meaning to insult him this time around. The gestures had been teasing to him and therefore offensive… Pulling out his chair, paying for his meal then trying to feed him. What exactly did he think he was doing? Treating him as the chick in that trashy Hollywood movie he compared their meeting to? In his mind he had every right to walk away without any guilt.
“Why do you want me to stay?” He asked with surprising ease.
|
|