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Post by whelpzie on Jul 17, 2011 13:36:10 GMT -5
>> Matthew had been more than surprised when his boss had replaced his day planner with a ticket to the exhibit and encouraged him to take a stroll through the expensive setting. His boss was also to attend, but, he was fully off the clock and he intended to make the most of it regardless of why he'd been handed an invite. Unlike when he had a hotel to tote back to, tonight he could crawl back into his own bed, making almost nothing off limits. The blond figured there was no better time to start getting his confidence and social skills back up, and if all else failed, he could easily fall back into his assistant role.
He'd changed into his usual work clothes, his crisp red shirt with the vest over top but kept his hair down for once and dug out his second set of glasses to at least match some. The Canadian figured he would look out of place anyways, and with only a pay check's worth of cash in his pocket to avoid over pushing his credit card, Matthew had entered and set off to blend in with the crowd best he could. Finding someone to talk and relate to was his first goal in mind, but with dread, he realized swiftly he was like a fish out of water.
Awkwardly standing off to the corner on his dry fins, Matthew hoped he would encounter someone other than his boss before he could split for home and get out of his uncomfortable shoes. Ugh. A few faces were familiar, associates he dealt with from behind a desk and certainly not his place to talk to. Sighing softly, he turned to the walls to inspector the interior until something better would hopefully pick up his attention.
Ooc; Just wanted to get something up, open to anyone.
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Post by fbonnefoy on Jul 20, 2011 1:01:14 GMT -5
He was going to go crazy.
Francis gripped the base of his cocktail under the radar, smiling pleasantly and making niceties with the lovely but equally bored invitees surrounding him. They weren't exactly to blame--forty minutes into the prelude and the introductory speaker was already late, undoubtedly fumbling with his Brooks Brothers suit in an attempt to look ironic within a crowd of little black dresses.
At the very least, it was three steps back from white-tie, and he ran one hand down the front of his fitted jacket to tuck it into an open pocket for lack of something else to do. Shaking hands was out of the question. Try a kiss on the cheek.
"--and then I said 'Dear god, Louis, don't tell me you fell into the cliché of buying a piece of art at a junkyard for future profits, or I will slap you'!"
An imperceptible twitch. He makes the support to reach out with the previously tucked hand to take hers, ignoring the soft sound of surprise as he dipped his head to kiss the fingers. "Dear Vanessa, 'work' of art, ouai?"
The blush is quite nice, though.
"O...of course. My mistake, Mister Bonnefoy."
He winks at her, never letting his eyes slip from hers as he bows his head, ever the playful gentleman. "De rien, ma amie. I'll meet up with you--" a gesture to the tight circle, "--when monsieur 'I 'ave better z'ings to do' arrives."
He exits on the obligatory laughter. Ah, here he was, in a glorious explosion of art--and yet he was stuck here with the tittering crowd until commencements were over.
A pause. He drains the glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. No one should mind if he slipped out to browse Alexander McQueen's Savage Beauty or the Pastel Portraits, ouai? He'd never admit salivating over the very prospect, but between art and people--at this very moment--there was no doubt of his preference.
Setting the glass on a passing platter, nodding to the server, he ducks his head downward, slipping around the newcomers milling inward, and heads toward the gallery doors.
If he hadn't been so observant, he might have missed him.
"...Mathieu?"
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Post by whelpzie on Jul 20, 2011 8:43:49 GMT -5
>> He was afraid he'd end up on the floor, face planting to his death in his plight pretty soon. In a place where most others had titles, they at least knew each other. Basically, Matthew was spending his silent corner time to beat himself up, and it was working fabulously. Someone at the bar was certainly creating a stir, cheering as drinks were offered on the house, apparently taking the empty time before the speaker ever arrived to get drunk. He watched them lean on the counter, hassling the tender who was pouring the drinks as paid. Maybe Matthew was in the wrong business.
Pondering his career choices as he bit at his bottom lip, he was visibly startled as someone spoke his name, but the American-Canadian knew that accent quite clearly. "... Uncle Francis! [/color]" he gave in a little cheer, public behaviors be damned in favor of childish preferences. Family was family. But, this was also family who usually sat on a different continent. He wasn't sure which of them was more in the wrong for being here, but he figured it was himself. " What are you doing here?[/color]" Matthew asked without much control, watching around them through his glasses as the servers began to make rounds once more. Apparently to drink was really the way to past time. He was amused though, thoroughly pleased with the turn of events, and grabbed a drink off the tray as it passed by. Might as well look occupied and blend in. [/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Jul 20, 2011 20:09:12 GMT -5
[/switches tense]
Francis looked far more amused than he should have been, but it was genuine. This far from the crowd, he allowed his shoulders to relax, both hands tucked into his jacket. "Being bored to death." The accent is more dusty and subtle, this time around. Family had an ironically soothing effect.
Shifting to the side to let people pass, he nodded his head toward the open gallery doors. "And paying 'omage to z'e museum. I might as well use my invite for somez'ing I've been intending to visit for weeks, now." He winked and moved in slightly, resisting the urge to ruffle Mathieu's hair--he'd always liked the look on the boy. Not only because it reminded him of his own, of course. The Canadian seemed younger than his years, still looking the same as when they'd last parted at John F. Kennedy International--albeit with an extra sweatshirt or two.
Ah, what was the harm? He reached out with the hand closest to the younger man and tousled his hair, a chuckle already on his lips. "I z'ink z'e better question is: why are you 'ere, my dear?"
Ignoring the background chitchat and the patrons at the bar, he instead ran his eyes across the other's physique, taking in his rumpled appearance. (By his standards. He had always been the one to tailor the boy's clothing even when they were younger. He'd also taken advantage of Mathieu's willingness to follow his lead by using him as a model... those were the days.) Forgetting his fingers, still caught in Mathieu's bangs, he quirked a brow. "'As it really been six months? You look good." A smile. "Awkward and out of place, but good."
[/SLEEPY]
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Post by whelpzie on Jul 20, 2011 21:11:32 GMT -5
>> Matthew laughed to himself, agreeing with his uncle's statement. It was really super boring here, he wasn't sure why he was ever jealous of the privileged people that got to attend such things on a regular basis. He took a sip of his drink, really still not into boozing the night away just yet. "And what does that mean? [/color]" he asked slyly, tilting his head the slightest to stare up at Francis teasingly through his lashes. Like just visiting was ever his only intentions, and no, it was a rhetorical question for all intentions and purposes. He scoffed, ducking away with a snort. It hurt slightly because his hair was pulled back, albeit loosely, but he did no harm at all. It just felt good to be social, something he hadn't had a chance to be in ages. Holding his glass out a bit so it could steady from his jerky movements, the Williams boy smiled fondly. " I got a ticket through my employer, hoping I'd get into the scene or something and be of more experience,[/color]" he replied honestly, shrugging a bit as he blew his breath upwards and onto Francis' palm. " Being out of school and actually getting enough sleep can do that to a person,[/color]" the blond said with a sigh, pulling away slightly from his Uncle. They were still in public after all and most likely looked like an odd pair from the looks occasionally being spared to them. Matthew really appreciated the compliment too, and wished he could think of something to return with. Saying it down, it was cute and endearing but saying it up... meh. " You look sober?[/color]" he decided on with a laugh. " You should of said you were coming though, even if I was still in Massachusetts, I would of came up. I live here now in New York.[/color]"[/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Jul 22, 2011 16:41:03 GMT -5
>> Feeling the hot air brush against the underside of his palm, Francis let his fingers slip from Mathieu's soft tresses, although not before flicking the man's forehead, gently, with one manicured fingertip.
(It wasn't that he wasn't aware of the open glances, but at this point in his life, he'd learned to absorb the staring and even relish the attention. Mathieu was undoubtedly comfortable, though, given that the boy had an unfathomable tendency to blend in with the wallpaper as much as humanly possible. He still didn't understand it, Mathieu's shyness and predilection toward complacency. With relations to both him and Alfred--the rambunctious, affectionate idiot--, the only explanation he could think of was the other being part-Canadian.)
"Darling," he drawled, eyes half-lidded as if chastising, "Art is sex." Lavender irises flickered with self-gratification, although there was nothing but a playfulness about him. Never let it be said that Francis wasn't a blunt man, with a habit of overriding common decency.
He let his hand drift over toward a wandering platter, manhandling a glass of Chteau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac, 1996, tasting the scent before it ever reached his lips. The Metropolitan never disappointed.
Nonetheless, a light scoff. "I will interpret that as 'you are wonderful and light up my world with your every move.'" A small wink. Penchants. "And not for long, at z'is rate. Social functions are so passé, non? I would've called you, but I wasn't planning on staying for too long. I 'ave a meeting in Tokyo in a few days."
Another sidestep to avoid bumping into another passerby. He clicked his tongue and gave Mathieu a purposeful look. "I already know z'e purpose of z'is event. Z'ey hosted it in Brussels two weeks ago, at z'e Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts. It's wonderful, vraiment, but I'm not in z'e mood for it, aujourd'hui."
A sip of his wine, questioning. "Would you like to see z'e ex'ibits with moi, instead? I was 'oping to go through McQueen's gallery. Maman was such a big fan, you know. I remember z'e night she called you at three in z'e morning to cry over 'is suicide, after using my sweater as a handkerchief."
[/DIALOGUE]
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Post by whelpzie on Jul 22, 2011 17:47:49 GMT -5
>> He rolled his eyes, huffing as he glanced off to the side. Once again, that was a rhetorical question, and he really hadn't wanted to hear it. Francis always blended in so nicely with the crowd, so following suit he mused himself with his own drink. The last time Matthew had ever gotten close to 'seeing' someone was in high school. Trying not to fade out with a pout, he drank moodily for a moment.
"Tokyo?" he chimed back in slight awe, finally bringing his gaze back on his golden Uncle. A french man in Tokyo. In general it seemed like a walking disaster, but he shook it off with a small sip, falling giving into the peer pressure around him. For the record, he had no comments for the previous statement, because he really was fond of Francis. No need for a foot in the mouth over something stupid, regardless that he'd just laugh it off. Matthew never usually got to say what he meant across. "Yeah, sure, that's fine," the blond stated lightly, agreeing with a soft nod to the plans. The crowd had seemed to silence a bit, attention for the doors marked with no patron entry, but the speaker was yet to be on the podium and in all honesty, the college grad had little interest in standing around to hear the drabble. "You can at least explain something about them to me, I sort of suck at this stuff. [/color]" He always loved a reminding he was an emotional teddy bear so to speak - helping to listen to others in distress was really the best thing going for him. He couldn't figure out if it's be insensitive to roll his eyes in good nature, so instead he adjusted his glasses with his free hand and agreed with a soft " Yeah[/color]". The calm from before had seemed to have been broken, the mingling of people resuming as more drinks were poured. " Shows how all of us place on her hierarchicy of favorites,[/color]" he said with a small smile. " There's also clearly, me over you.[/color]" Ooc [/color]: Japan, I see your post got bumped in but due to how proboards does it based on time (instead of making it the newest post), it got thrown in between our 'old' posts and looks like we're ignoring you. ;u; That's not the case, sorry! Feel free to jump in as soon as you get back with a new 'in time' post. <3[/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Jul 26, 2011 0:00:01 GMT -5
[/finally replies, a million days later] >> Waving off Mathieu's slightly disgruntled expression--rhetorical or not, he answered as he pleased--and casting a quick glance around the room, he surreptitiously tugged at the other's sleeve, strolling toward the side doors with casual intent as he melted into the crowd. When his nephew finally caught up to him, they've sidled past the velvet ropes and into the gallery entrance, dark except for the theatrical spotlights that glowed beyond the wall before them, inscribed with the history and purpose of Savage Beauty. Francis took a sip of his wine and read the description while finally answering the manifest and latent questions presented to him back within the crowd. (Whose voices could still be heard, but they were muddled.) " Tokyo and Paris are not so different," and his mirth is quite clear. " Z'e Japanese shower before sex; z'e French, after." He was in casual company, and indulged in playing up the impression of a one-track mind. " Both are beautiful cities, sans doute. It's difficult to paint them more red z'an z'ey are, now." His eyes glittered, something already up his sleeve. " I should take you with me. It's an electronics convention. You love video games, ouai?" He allows Mathieu some time to process the thought before moving on, nodding to the Canadian as he steps past the wall and into the gallery, oxfords clicking on the granite floor. "[color= You did get a booklet, non?" He's struggling not to smile, but takes pity on his nephew and goes on to summarize the event. " Z'ey took the concept of the United Nations' Millennium Goals--z'e somewhat unbelievable fight against poverty by 2015, alz'ough z'ey're overexerting z'emselves in this endeavor--and imbued z'e concept in z'e art community. So, z'is is an event pour les artistes, one where z'ey show off films, dances, sculpture, paintings--any and all performances--to tell z'e world what z'ey z'ink of 'peace,' and 'ow it can be accomplished." He looked thoughtful during the lecture, waving his free hand about while he talked, reminiscent of any Italian. " Or even if it is somez'ing desirable. Z'ere is beauty in death and war. Or so z'ey say." Francis stopped in front of the silk and floral creation featured in the spring/summer 2007 collection, Sarabande and made a noise of appreciation. " Like z'is." He pointed to the writing next to the display. " In McQueen's words." Also... before he forgot. He grinned. " And I don't envy you one bit. She's ready to maul you, Mathieu, next time she calls you, about why you're not married yet." Teasing. " I suspect she wants you or Alfred to somehow overcome your gender and bear children, yourselves." [MAYBE WE SHOULD WRITE SHORTER REPLIES SO BOTH FRANCIS AND MATHIEU HAVE TIME TO ANSWER XD]
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Post by whelpzie on Jul 26, 2011 10:09:51 GMT -5
>> The separation from the rest of the crowd was comforting to Matthew in some way, and followed Francis closely like some sort of mobile life raft. Listening as they moved, he only arched a brow to muse the idea of travel. He was flattered, even if the suggestion was coming from his Uncle to go with him to such a thing. Then again he could never tell how serious the man was being, so he let it sit for a while.
The assistant chuckled lightly, keeping the joke to himself. He'd sort of given up reading as a Graduation resolution on a congrats for no more studying sort of vibe - but he did have a pamphlet and it was tucked into the breast pocket on the inside of his vest. Sounded better when the Frenchman explained it, anyways. "Ambitious, [/color]" he replied a bit skeptically, finding no more words though he was grateful he took the time to vocalize it for him. He wasn't totally out of the loop about the whole thing but the refresher was nice as he trotted along. In the lowered light he still had to squint a bit, humming as he read the words in relation to the pieces. " ... I still have no clue why I'm in this business,[/color]" he responded flatly, folding his arms and holding his glass out with one hand, other palm nestled beneath his elbow. Matthew was sure any words he had for the dress were immature and childish - it was pretty, simple as that, and he didn't see much else that he was supposed to gain. He did admire it though and wondered how it was crafted, and viewed it carefully over the rim of his glass as he took another drink. Slowly, he had to really work his way in, he supposed. " Hey, Uncle Francis... I couldn't impose like that,[/color]" the Canadian answered after a long while, far after the initial question had been asked about him traveling beside his Uncle, shaking his head lightly as he spoke. He'd love to go, and as much as he wanted to he needed some persuasion at least. Then he flushed over a bit - he had really been thinking about it for that long, making it kind of obvious he was interested. Ooc [/color]: > What is short posts What ever floats your boat, though, uh, Ialwayskindofreplylikethis. I don't mind waiting ever as I'm across a lot of places. xD Just yell at me as needed, darling.[/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Aug 7, 2011 20:39:19 GMT -5
[OOC] Since the event is technically over, I'll do a transition post, here, and then we can move to Tokyo, which will probably end up being a three-way RP with our Kiku. Sound all right? C: >> It wasn't that he disagreed with the initiative, but French predilection toward cynicism and politics combined with personal annoyance with slow-moving measures to solve social ills (damn ricans) made him wary of art shows such as Global Art of Peace. It was through irony (and a little spark of hope that he tried to feed every once in a while) that he hosted similar shows back in Paris and throughout America. (Damn ricans and their easily manipulated hearts.) Mathieu echoed his thoughts when he'd been younger, though. If he hadn't a nonsensical (and aristocratic) love for art and the business... Well, at the very least, he'd have wasted the last twelve years of his life along with countless hours of sleep. And mediocre seven-dollar-a-bottle wines. (Why didn't he go to college near Napa Valley?) Allowing himself a sheepish shrug, he lead Mathieu down the exhibit, pointing out the deconstructed beauty of a coat from the 1996-1997 Dante collection and a regal ensemble that had a near feral look from the autumn and winter collection of 2008-2009 along the way, stopping in front of a wispy dress, the "Oyster," from the spring and summer 2003 collection, Irere. " Truth be told, I sometimes ask myself z'e same z'ing. And it's not because the commonfolk--" He flipped a hand into the air, slurring the word with a joking tone. " --call z'e art scene 'pretentious' or 'unnecessary' or 'impractical' or even 'ignoring z'e social ills of z'e world and playing around in a fantasy world.'" Slightly miffed, the undertone, as if he was recalling something particularly irritating. Francis then shook his head, taking another sip from his glass. " Non. Fashion is art. And art?" His face lit up, almost childlike withexcitement. " Art is expressive! Agitating! Documentary! Historical!" The hand not holding the glass--luckily--flailed slightly, a tangible exclamation mark. A grandiose gesture toward the "Oyster." " Z'e work is trying, and repetitive. But when one comes across a masterpiece... Most people forget z'at collections like z'ese are not just pieces to wear. Z'ey tell stories. Irere is not a runway. It details a shipwreck at sea, a venture into z'e Amazon jungle--" He flung both hands into the air this time, very nearly spilling his glass in his his passionate maneuvering. " Pirates! Conquistadors! The natives! I was a lucky salaud to be able to attend z'is show. And maman, Highland Rape, the heartwrenching history of England's rancorous quest to conquer z'e Scottish." A shake of the head. " She called me at four in z'e morning to share z'e 'joyous news' of having acquired a seating when Widows of Culloden opened back in 2006." Finally noticing his rambling monologue, Francis laughed and took another sip from his--thankfully--still-filled glass, leading them toward an ensemble that had a painting printed directly onto the silk. " Angels and Demons, McQueen's unfinished collection." Peering at the label, he brightened and quoted--" In 'is own words, 'For me, what I do is an artistic expression which is channeled through me. Fashion is just z'he medium.'" It was as if he was eighteen all over again and explaining to his amused parents why preservation of paintings was one of his new passions--why history mattered. But... Ah, he was shutting out Mathieu with all his talking. Gathering his thirty years, he tucked one hand into his jacket and grinned at his nephew. " 'Ere I am, talking your ears off." He winked. " I'm sure you'll find your own reasons for existing." He tapped his chin, though, almost forgetting the bashful murmur Mathieu had uttered before he'd started on his own tangent of love for fashion. Ah. A quiet smile appeared on his face, and he reached out to ruffle Mathieu's hair, feeling very fond of his nephew at that moment. " Votre visage est comme un livre ouvert. Is your boss kind enough to let you go for two weeks or so?" He faked a wobbly, teary-eyed look. " Si non, I'll just 'ave to use my French charm pour le convaincre. 'Monsieur, I 'aven't seen my nephew for such a long time. Surely you would not deprive me of 'is company for z'e next few weeks?'" He reverted back to his old grin. " Comme cela. It'd be nice to 'ave someone to drag me back to my 'otel after I get drunk on sake in Tokyo. Maman would maul you when we go to Paris, as well. She'll spoil you silly. 'Ow does z'at sound, Mathieu?"
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Post by whelpzie on Aug 7, 2011 21:08:50 GMT -5
>> A small bemused smile crept on his lips, and it was hidden from Francis mostly as the man was paying him no attention to see how taken he was with his Uncle. Francis was genuinely enjoying himself and secretly, Matthew wished for that same motivation and devotion. It was true though he had little time to speak anything in edge wise, and he even had to side step the French man's wild hands before a drink was poured over his head but only a bit startled, he settled back into his spot.
Thinking about it that way did bring a new light to everything. Not ever gaudy piece of work was in it for the fashion. Eyeing the gold pattern, Matthew's lips set loosely, he was a little delayed in his responses as he thought over the piece and the artist's word hand in hands. Rolling in shoulders in muted agreement and appreciation, the Canadian laughed, shaking his head when he finally came back around. "I like when you talk, don't apologize, [/color]" the near sighted blond assured, wondering if it was easy as his words to find a so called existence. He had gone back into glancing over his shoulder at the works they had passed, matching Francis words back to what he had been saying and like a cat, practically pressed back into his hand as he ruffled through his hair. " I'm sure he would let me go for a while, he does a lot of things without going through me,[/color]" he stated bitterly in a private moment of discussing his thoughts about work. " I don't know how much charm I want you pouring over him...[/color]" the college grad responded teasingly, glancing up through his thick lashes and equally thick frames. " I still don't want to impose though,[/color]" Matthew stated dismissively, turning away again for a second. It was true he loved the tlc though, and god forbid anyone unleashed his Uncle on unsuspecting people though that was usually how it went. Playing a sense of hard to get for a moment, he chewed the inside of his cheek as his breath played with a few stray strands that had escaped and bounced before his face. Glancing up again, he dropped his worried look for something brighter to match the elder blond's. " ... Can't be more then two weeks though, I think that's all of my vacation if I get it called forward for like the next six years.[/color]"[/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Aug 7, 2011 23:00:58 GMT -5
[OOC]PMed Kiku about it. >> Admittedly, a small part of him adored his nephew for the sheer fact that Mathieu let him run his mouth without interruption or much annoyance. He never understood those who told him to shut up, anyway: he knew how to pick his words--unlike a certain tactless American--and why would anyone disregard his clearly superior discourse in the first place? Surely he was preferable to small talk about the weather. Either way, Mathieu didn't get out enough (as opposed to his rambunctious cousin) and rarely took the chance to let loose and enjoy himself. He most certainly remembered the boy back in his college years, wandering about like a ghostly figure and going through the motions--which was only partially connected to the lack of sleep. He'd hoped to run a spark of energy through the young man after his graduation (where he'd jokingly given the boy a punching bag... while his mother took it upon herself to practically frisk her great-nephew in front of his graduating class; oh, maman), but Mathieu never seemed to give off that sated vibe he was feeling for. Half the time, he never knew if the boy was content with his life, and bouncing back and forth between continents and seeing his nephews only once every few months wasn't helpful in learning to read their emotions. (Although, it was exceptionally easy to tell when Alfred was attempting to hide something.) With that in mind, Francis had already been prepared to ask Mathieu to accompany him to Tokyo and then Paris (and was already considering inviting Alfred, so long as the other boy didn't plow through Mathieu while at their great-aunt-and-uncle's house)--if only to put his nephew in a more robust atmosphere. August was absolutely perfect for exploring and experiencing; the entire nation retired for the last month of summer, really, so it wouldn't be so very. Touristy. (He appreciated their business, but having a hoard of people continually drawl English at him in loud, monotonous tones as if he'd understand them better was annoying, to say the least.) Also. Mathieu's job always seemed horribly boring to him. And apparently, to Mathieu. Maybe he could pull some strings... It wasn't bribery if the other party had a legitimate reason to pay you back, non? Then again, the mere mention of such a change might make the Canadian backpedal several kilometers. Well, he could work on that, later. There were several studios that were hiring... Rolling his eyes, he clapped Mathieu on the back and made an inarticulate noise. " Oh, nonsense. You never impose. And trust me, petit. Once maman gets 'er 'ands on you and dresses you up in frilly z'ings as she did when you were six, two weeks will seem like a lifetime." A secretive smile. " I will do my best to extend z'at to a month. One simply can't enjoy Paris in a week, un point c'est tout! I am unresistable."
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Post by whelpzie on Aug 8, 2011 11:06:06 GMT -5
>> "Uncle Francis! [/color]" he hissed lightly under his breath with a roll of his eyes, trying to keep from disturbing a pair that walked behind them and deeper into the exhibit. Matthew wasn't angry, just exasperated, and he looked down to his shoes. " Not a month,[/color]" he corrected, finishing off his drink with a slight pout. As much as he would really enjoy it, there was reality and well, the world the French man lived in. Licking away the last taste of his alcohol from his lips, Matthew rolled his shoulders again. He was particularly anxious now - just thinking about spending a week in Paris made him giddy, but he was skilled at keeping such things to himself (to some extent, he became a fidget but fidgeting related to everything, so it didn't ever mean much). The blond didn't know if he could last more than seven days there without fainting with glee and reluctance to leave. Secretly, he wouldn't mind the frilly things, but that he was also keeping to himself. He didn't find the beloved woman all that bad at all, and he knew he was joking. To some extent. Turning back into his soft smile, he was lost in their comfortable silence for a while until he yawned unexpectedly - oh, how good he was at staying up past 10, hah. He was sure he'd pointed out before how bad he fell into these crowds, didn't he? Balancing the empty glass so it wouldn't fall and shatter, Matthew dug around in his vest pocket for a moment and pulled out a small manila card, the edges metallic and the words in gold. " Here, it's where I work,[/color]" he informed lazily, handing it over, " and trust me, I'll know when you call,[/color]" the Canadian warned without threat, shaking his head slightly because he knew ultimately, Francis would. " My cell and everything is still the same.[/color]" He wasn't sure how long they had been standing around, the other had really given a length speech before, and by the influx of people now actually enjoying the gallery, he assumed the missing speaker had shown and in turn, already finished. If his Uncle was only here for a few days, who was he to occupy his time when he knew plently well he had other things in mind (we're not thinking about that, Matthew). Sighing in content, he glanced up as they really should be parting ways - he just wasn't sure how over the top it should be. " I'm going to head out, I'm not really much use here other than to make my Boss happy. Thanks for your traveling offer.[/color]" Ooc [/color]: I went back in and inserted a lot so sorry if it stops making sense or sounds odd, gfdfaf. I suck at re-reading because I go by what's in my head. |D; And alright at Japan. <3[/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by fbonnefoy on Aug 8, 2011 16:59:04 GMT -5
>> Sticking out his tongue was extremely mature. (He was allowed to be silly. What was it Mark Twain said? "Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." Oh, that man. How he loved him.) Even now, Mathieu's excitement was near-palpable despite his cool expression. Which was broken by the yawn and sleepy-eyed look as Francis took the proffered business card. Adorable. He was surprised his nephew hadn't managed to get plucked into someone's arms by this point. As soon as Mathieu expressed his intent to leave--to Francis's disappointment, he pulled on the other's arm with his free hand to envelop the Canadian in a loose hug. " Ouai, ouai. You and your caller ID." He gently patted Mathieu's shoulder before letting him go. " I'll stop by sometime soon. It will be better company z'an z'e ignorant dealers I'll be meeting later." Tucking the card into his jacket, he drained the last of his wine and eyed the influx of people creeping their way into the gallery. " No need for formalities, Mathieu. You need a little time off, non?" A small smile quirked onto his lips as he gently punched his nephew's shoulder. " Go on, now. It's almost your bedtime, chouchou. I'll give you art history lessons later, when you're flailing at the top of z'e Tour d'Eiffel." [OOC] Short post to wrap up <3
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Post by whelpzie on Aug 9, 2011 20:05:23 GMT -5
>> Matthew smiled softly, leaning into the hug and returning it with one free hand before sipping away, raising his empty glass to his lips as soon as he was free before he remembered just that - it was empty. And, he really didn't need anymore. "Always welcome, [/color]" the blond murmured in response at Francis stopping by. His dusty old apartment (from lack of use, how often his boss tossed him around without much care for his comfort) was sort of lonely when he was actually in town. Time off sounded lovely, but spending it there with the dull walls and wallpaper in the kitchen, not so much. He wasn't sure how Francis knew exactly what he always needed. Glancing up, he nodded and lurched dramatically at the French man's touch. " Alright, see you,[/color]" the Canadian gave in final parting, lingering only to return with a tap on his arm (something more delicate in his range) before heading back out and dropping his empty glass on a passing tray. He was still giddy - how odd was it to find his Uncle so unexpectedly? A little less of a passing ghost for once, Matthew made way for his home. Thread conclusion! [/blockquote]
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