Above rim of cocktail glass reflecting frothy pink contents, Loras' eyebrows - precisely plucked and penciled - inched ever further toward dark hairline. Enjoying first sip of his third cosmo of the night, Lady Tyrell felt exceptionally relaxed and rhythmically fluid as the soft strains of improvisational jazz piped through club system. Using lover's broad chest as choicest of pillows, he alternated walking lacquered fingertips across Renly's knee and idly twirling a long, curly lock. He'd chosen for their outing high-end hair extensions from Italy perfectly matched to his own pulled into a side ponytail worn low and sexy to compliment rich navy shirtdress. Vintage inspired, front double-breasted details and satin buttons with matching lapels and cuffs hugged all the right places - real and imaginary. Office power outfit meets Dita von Teese and Loras couldn't imagine himself any less attractive than iconic pinup. From top of neatly coiffed head to tips of black t-strap platforms; petals of the silk orchid hair clasp in deepest blue he wore brushing his jaw whenever he laughed or turned his head, Loras thought himself luminescent and truly unstoppable.
“Oh my poor darling. How awful for you!” Reaching over, Loras curled sympathetic hand around Jon’s oversize mitt, giving it a quick squeeze. Silent encouragement for someone who’d been hovering just outside the fringe of conversation most of the time, barely able to get a word in and giving them all the wary side-eye because of it.
“The Thames is such a dirty place,” he remarked with a tiny shiver. He’d only been in London proper a few times during short layover flights between continents. Just enough time to take in the basic touristy spots, is all (and The Box Soho but that was tale of its own for another day), but he remembered the dark swath that cut through the city; remembered all too well the musty, dank smell that permeated shoreline and surrounding area. It reminded him of old things, dead things, a Dickensian nightmare of extreme poverty wrapped in the cloying smoke of Victorian coke fires.
Shivering again, Loras fingered the diamond eternity bracelet he always wore while counting his blessings, one by one.
“You were able to keep it from your father, I hope?”