[ If we are honest, Claude would have settled with less. Less than having the stranger shrug out of his robe and proceed to wrap Claude up inside it - because this is a case of the robe wearing him, rather than the other way around, it's that big. Once the hood goes up, seemingly on its own accord, it's more or less a tent by all definitions but the common one. There's commotion all around him, but he can't see a thing - except feet, the stranger's big, booted feet right in front of him and around them, other feet moving by, Parisian sandals on well-known feet, for example, and Claude stands very still until the danger has passed, wrapped not only in fabric, but the scent of the other man, heavy, musky, manly. There's a second, before he lets the hood fall back and looks up at his saviour, in every sense of the word, really, where it feels incredibly safe. Like a fortress. A fortress of personhood, of not being alone.
There's a reluctance to part with it, but it's not his robe and he's getting gold-leaf on the inside of it, sorry to say. It's symbolic, how easily it rubs off, shows where you've been touched, traces back to whom, too. Checking one last time that Rainier is really gone, he shrugs out of the robe again, curls everywhere, and holds it out to the other man, the younger man, Claude wasn't half that attractive at his age. He seems older than his looks. Like there's a weight to him. Some things are like that, Claude knows. ]
Thank you. [ The smile, again, wide, but soft. Amused, but not quite, never quite. ] The gold-leaf wears off after a while. Until then, don't worry, it'll look good on you.
[ Like a testament, one sleeve of the robe now bears a smear of gold glitter across the hem.
Claude frowns and looks down, trying not to get distracted and failing spectacularly, where are Rainier's admonishments when you need them? Oh, yeah. A quick glance the way the older man disappeared, then he turns back towards the stranger who saved him from having to follow him, even one more step. ]
He'll be back, so I should probably go.
[ Looking up at the stranger's face, his chiseled features, the strength in his gaze, maturity beyond his years, Claude doesn't, however. Go. He doesn't, and he longs to be wrapped up in his robe again, that's really all he can think about.
It was soft, it was soft and accommodating. Rare traits anywhere. ]
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There's a reluctance to part with it, but it's not his robe and he's getting gold-leaf on the inside of it, sorry to say. It's symbolic, how easily it rubs off, shows where you've been touched, traces back to whom, too. Checking one last time that Rainier is really gone, he shrugs out of the robe again, curls everywhere, and holds it out to the other man, the younger man, Claude wasn't half that attractive at his age. He seems older than his looks. Like there's a weight to him. Some things are like that, Claude knows. ]
Thank you. [ The smile, again, wide, but soft. Amused, but not quite, never quite. ] The gold-leaf wears off after a while. Until then, don't worry, it'll look good on you.
[ Like a testament, one sleeve of the robe now bears a smear of gold glitter across the hem.
Claude frowns and looks down, trying not to get distracted and failing spectacularly, where are Rainier's admonishments when you need them? Oh, yeah. A quick glance the way the older man disappeared, then he turns back towards the stranger who saved him from having to follow him, even one more step. ]
He'll be back, so I should probably go.
[ Looking up at the stranger's face, his chiseled features, the strength in his gaze, maturity beyond his years, Claude doesn't, however. Go. He doesn't, and he longs to be wrapped up in his robe again, that's really all he can think about.
It was soft, it was soft and accommodating. Rare traits anywhere. ]