Dallas Shay & Loras Tyrell (hislittlerose) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-09-17 13:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | loras tyrell, renly baratheon |
Who: Dallas and Alexis
What: A city councillor and a prostitute walk into a restaurant...
Where: Market Street Cafe
When: Recently?
Warnings/Rating: Awkwardness. Also Dallas is totally oblivious about most things.
For his part, Dallas Shay was wholly unsettled by the entire prospect of a midday rendezvous for high tea with a prostitute. Hell, even thinking about it to himself was daunting, to say the least. Not only was Dallas a somewhat-upstanding Catholic and a public figure with a fragile reputation to maintain, but he was also a generally shy individual and he did not quite understand why he had agreed to this particular meeting with this particular man. Of course, there was the fact that Loras would not have taken ‘no’ for an answer, and in all honesty Dallas wouldn’t have been able to deny the man who shared his head. Not when Alexis had Renly, and not when Loras was desperate for any sort of connection to his king since he could not force Dallas through the door every moment of each day. And so he found himself agreeing to Alexis’ suggestion of coffee (or tea, in their case). As far as he was concerned, little harm could be done in such a public setting. Or so he hoped. His morning had been typical, if not entirely uneventful. His daughter Rosie was usually easy to coax into her nice church clothes, the neatly-pressed blouses and patent leather mary-janes that Dallas’ mother sent on a regular basis. Today, however, there had been a tantrum of epic proportions that rocked the Shay household in the early, pale hours of the morning. Dallas still wasn’t sure exactly how she could create such a piercing scream with her little lungs, but it had taken him the better part of an hour to get her consoled and dressed for the day, and it wasn’t until halfway through Sunday Mass that his hearing finally returned to normal. The service passed by in a blur, and Rosie was mercifully subdued, probably having exhausted her energy with her earlier fit. She sat there in her neat blue dress and polished black shoes with pigtails in her hair, dozing in the stuffy warmth of the old church, while her father’s mind wandered. Then suddenly Dallas found he was dropping Rosie off at the babysitter’s house and making his way to the Market Street Cafe on Ogden, finding a miraculously empty parking space just down the street. He had found the time to change after church and was dressed in faded blue jeans and a soft grey polo shirt, with a Red Sox baseball cap jammed on his head. He took the hat off once he stepped inside the cafe’s front door, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunshine outside before he looked around. Of course, he had no idea what Alexis looked like. Dallas knew the bare minimum, whereas the other man seemed to be familiar with a few more aspects of his own life, including who he was and (presumably, if Alexis had Googled) what he looked like. So Dallas wondered how he was supposed to pick Alexis, a stranger, out of a crowd made up entirely of strangers - and then was caught by surprise to find that there was someone looking at him from a table, sitting just across the main aisle that led to the kitchen. Another quick glance around informed Dallas that there was no one else who appeared to be waiting for someone, and indeed the blonde man was the only person sitting by himself. With a deep breath, Dallas steeled his nerve and made his way over to the table, ducking his head slightly as he always did out of habit if he was feeling a bit shy. The voice in Alexis’ head was a fraction of a second faster at recognizing the man that walked through the door, hat in hand, with a sheepish expression on his face. That’s him, the voice said excitedly, normal sarcasm forgotten for a moment. Alexis slowly replaced his water glass on the table in front of him, careful to set the glass back atop the rings of water it had left before, and watched the man - Dallas - gazing somewhat shyly around the room, trying to match a face with the comments and questions from the app. The two men then made eye contact, a slow recognition lit Dallas’ eyes, and the man took a deep breath. A cool smile spread over Alexis’ lips. Alexis took in the sight of the man approaching him, head bowed. His eyes moved down to the grey polo, then lower to the jeans, over to the hat, black with an obscured letter in red on the front, then back up to what he could see of Dallas’ clean-shaven face. He made no judgements. He had done this enough to know that most likely whatever he thought would be wrong. Observation was the name of the game. He just took the information gleaned and stowed it away somewhere in the back of his mind, looking up as Dallas drew up to the booth near the back exit. “Good morning,” he said cordially. Most in his line of business tended to be late risers - what with the busy nights. But Alexis had ever been an early bird. He would get up before the sun to go for a run and clean up before the day began in earnest. It was mostly for these reasons that he didn’t drink. He enjoyed the quiet too much to waste it due to a hangover. The cafe was bustling, though not overly busy, with Sunday brunch-goers. It would take the waiter or waitress a moment, Alexis assumed, so he slid a menu across the table to Dallas after the man sat opposite him. “You’ll have to tell me what’s good here,” he said, his own menu unfolded in his hands, peering at Dallas over the edge of the paper. He smiled. “Morning,” he said, voice both soft and assured to match the lopsided half-grin that was almost always present. As Dallas pulled out the chair opposite the blonde stranger and slid into the seat, he glanced around the half-empty restaurant with interest. This was a popular place, though it saw the heaviest traffic during the wee hours of the mornings when the club-goers stumbled out onto the strip and had a craving for Hawaiian-style breakfast foods. Dallas, unfortunately, was not nearly so cool as to know this first-hand. No, the only occasions when he made it all the way down the strip after midnight were on those occasions he’d spent far too many consecutive hours at the office, and was in desperate need of provisions. On this morning, however, they nearly had the place to themselves. The other tables were occupied with groups and couples, and Dallas spotted many tables full of young women dressed in tight, flashy dresses and carrying their stiletto heels in their hands, dirty feet bare under their seats as they had long ago decided to give up the dignity of wearing shoes in exchange for relief from their blistered, aching heels. He also saw older couples, dressed in appropriately-preppy golfing gear, on their way out to the courses. And then Dallas saw mismatched tablemates scattered around the restaurant, two or more individuals together who, at first glance, had no apparent business sitting with one another and yet did so without regard for anyone else. Dallas decided to adopt their attitude, and put a stop to his surreptitious surveying of the other patrons. Instead he focused on the menu in front of him, having been giving an excellent distraction from his own thoughts by Alexis’ remark. He picked it up and thumbed through it once, before his smile widened just enough to deepen his dimples. He spoke to Alexis over the top of the menu, lowering his tone to something good-natured that was nearly conspiratorial. “To be honest, I don’t usually look at the menu. If I’m eating, I’ll almost always get either the oxtail soup or the Loco Moco - they’re pretty famous for both here. If I just want tea, sometimes I'll ask them to recommend something and try it out if I haven’t had it before.” Perhaps it sounded laughable, but living a healthy lifestyle was important to Alexis. It wasn’t often that he went out to eat, unless it was to meet a client. One was much more likely to catch him in the small kitchenette of his studio, bent shirtless over a pot of steaming broccoli or making a dish with roasted asparagus. He liked to know what it was he was putting into his body - in all cases. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy something greasy and fried every once in a while. Sliding his eyes from one item on the menu to the next, Alexis was aware of Dallas’ study of the restaurant. Very briefly, he flicked his gaze up to the other man, only to ask for recommendations. It was a moment before Dallas answered, but when he did, Alexis regarded him evenly from over the top of the menu. “Tea is a good place to start,” he replied, re-folding the menu and setting it down next to his elbow, not particularly caring to peruse the selection. The man then took a minute to simply look at the near-stranger across from him, taking in the details that Renly had missed in his excitement to see Loras. Dallas Shay certainly had the sweet, wholesome farmboy look going for him. (The dimples hadn’t gone unnoticed.) He had the kind of appearance that Alexis had learned - and lacked - exuded trustworthiness. He just looked like a nice guy. Alexis sat back in the booth. “I can see how you would make a good politician,” he said, amused. It was an interesting observation, one that he’d actually heard on more than one occasion and with more than one sort of implication behind it. Dallas raised his eyebrows and drummed his fingers against the menu’s bound cover, regarding Alexis for a moment. He couldn’t be sure whether the man had meant it as a good thing or bad, or perhaps a combination of the two - and he realized that he was interested in finding out. Dallas cocked his head very slightly to one side, an unreadable expression crossing his face before he spoke again. “Should I be flattered, or offended?” Dallas’ smile continued to flirt with the corners of his mouth and he fiddled with his baseball cap for a moment where it lay in his lap, curving the brim and then flattening it out again. He liked to consider himself a fairly good judge of character, but Alexis wasn’t exactly making it easy. With his slicked-back hair and the tattered wisp of a shirt that clung to his frame, Dallas supposed that Alexis could pass for either a model or a homeless person. It was an unusual look, and one that he managed to pull off without any apparent effort. Dallas, in his plain jeans-and-polo, suddenly felt rather lacking in style. Unbidden, a thought popped into his head and nearly made him laugh aloud. He managed to stifle it by clearing his throat and swallowing a small gulp of air, feeling his half-smile hitch up even higher on one side. The words that had occurred to him, that he’d known he would never be rude enough to actually say aloud to a stranger, involved the wise observation that Alexis looked like he would make an excellent prostitute. While Dallas kept it to himself, he was surprised by the fact that he wasn’t drowning in excessive amounts of guilt for having thought about another man in that way - maybe because Alexis’ chosen career made it difficult to do otherwise. “Do you like anything in particular?” he asked after opening the menu to the beverage options, glancing over the cramped list of exotic and delicious teas. “I’ve had a lot of the earl grey oolong, that’s probably my first choice.” It wasn't meant as an insult. Though, to be fair, it wasn't necessarily intended as a compliment. It was an observation. Not objective, of course, because nothing was uncolored by one's past experiences and no one was impervious preconceived notions. Of course, one could try to be aware, but there wasn't much more that could be done. Alexis smiled, saying nothing and watching as Dallas nervously turned his hat over in his hands, then, as he cleared his throat loudly. The corner of Dallas' lips pulled into a wider smirk. The prostitute thought on asking what was so amusing, but, if the politician didn't want to share, Alexis wasn't going to force him. Instead, he placed his elbows on table and used both hands to push his hair back out of his face. One of Alexis' smooth eyebrows quirked at the question posed to him. He smiled and let his eyes fall to the table for a second. He swept them over his hands where he kept them folded, then up to Dallas' face. Renly was causing something of a clangor in his mind, urging Alexis to ask after Loras, see how he was faring, when they could meet again, if Dallas was a good host, and so on. The younger man betrayed nothing of what was happening behind his eyes. Instead, he laughed. It made sense that Dallas would ask such a whore such a question, no euphemism intended. That said, Alexis was paid to have his mind in the gutter. "I prefer black teas," was all he said on the matter. He peered pointedly at Dallas' polo shirt, then gave him a cool look. "And here I thought you were going to dress up." Ever the oblivious little lamb, Dallas hadn’t the slightest inkling what was going on in his companion’s head. Had he known, he might have piped up with some of the commentary that Loras was currently running, if for no other reason than to get the stranger in his head to quiet down. The Knight of Flowers had not stopped speaking, had in fact barely stopped long enough to take a breath, since Dallas had stepped into the restaurant and approached the man who contained Renly. Most of what he had to say fell along the lines of what anyone could have guessed: wondering how Renly was getting along with the blonde man, and when they would each return through the door of the inn. Fortunately, Loras was at least considerate enough to keep his volume to a minimum after the first three times that Dallas had asked him to please be quiet. However, with nothing acknowledged between them regarding the men in their heads, Dallas had only Alexis’ actions to focus on. As a politician it was useful to have a solid understanding of body language and the millions of silent, tiny signals that humans sent out to one another on a daily basis - but try as he might, Alexis was a walking contradiction. The slender hands in his blonde hair, the way his cool gaze swept from his own hands and then over Dallas again. It was all deliberately intriguing. Masterful in his composure. His whole appearance, this artfully-dishevelled pauper who managed to look like a million bucks while also seeming to have just rolled out of bed - Dallas almost might have admitted that he found it impressive. Almost. Of course, then Dallas found himself being criticized for his outfit, and all else flew from his mind (except for Loras, naturally). He actually laughed at that, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his brown hair. “I’m sorry,” he said in a tone that made it clear he was anything but sorry, white teeth flashing as he grinned. “I didn’t realize that the fashion police would be out at this time of day. Forgive me for trying to fly under the radar.” Dallas’ eyes sparkled with amusement and he took a moment to glance down at himself. The jeans were faded, yes, but they were worn-in enough to fit him perfectly. The polo was Hugo Boss, something his wife had picked out for him a few Christmases ago. “What exactly is wrong with the way I’m dressed?” As a prostitute, it was equally as important to be fluent in body language - how else to read one's less forward customers? Dallas, he found, quite composed, even if he was somewhat nervous about meeting a sketchy stranger in public. The dark-haired man sat up straight at the little table, his expression amused. The only thing giving away his anxiety or discomfort (Alexis wasn't sure which was the more apt word yet) was the occasional, very small, restless movement of his hands. Otherwise, he appeared as at home in the cafe decorated like a model home off the Strip as he must've been during political debates. - It occurred to the blond whore that maybe he and Dallas were equally as practiced presenting the face they wanted the world to see. Their only difference lying, perhaps, in the fact that Alexis' mask was uncannily similar to the one he wore in private. There was less of a boundary between who he was and who he showed others. (Of course, he knew nothing about Dallas, besides what he had seen.) And even as Alexis smiled at the laughter in his companion's voice, his eyes remained cool and appraising. "I'll let you off with a warning this time. But I fully expect a gown to make an appearance," replied the younger man dryly. He looked expectantly at Dallas, only to catch sight of the waiter from the corner of his eye. Alexis swiveled his gaze to the boy who couldn't have been more than seventeen. He had a dull sort of red hair that made him look all the paler in his dark work clothes. Alexis smiled cordially as they exchanged pleasantries and handed the menu to the boy. The waiter's eyes went from one man to the other - taking in the older of the two, in his "I am an upstanding citizen" grey polo, with his endearing, lopsided smile, and the blond with his torn, too-short shirt and slick hair. If the boy hadn't seen strange pairings everyday at his job, he might have wondered what circumstances would bring such very different-looking people together. As it was, he gave a bland smile and readied his pen. "I'll just have an assam tea, please." Alexis spoke quietly and politely. "Thank you." “Ah, yes,” he said around his smile, multifaceted as it was, twitching up and down on one side with each new level of amusement. He gave a knowing nod and made a sweeping gesture down the length of his lanky frame, arching one eyebrow as if to inquire of his table mate, see this? “Picture me, if you will, in a sparkly floor-length number. Green, to compliment my eyes. My wife always said that was my best color.” Deadpan in his delivery but with a slightly mischievous glint to his eyes, Dallas turned his attention to their server when he approached to take their order, slightly taken aback when he realized that he recognized the boy. There was no mistaking that red hair, and Dallas had frequented the cafe so often in the last few years that he was familiar with several of the full-time staff members. This boy was a little newer, but thankfully the cheery tag on his shirt saved Dallas from the unsightly faux pas of fumbling for the right name (usually he had a PA around to help him with this sort of thing: prompting him with the names and stories of various important people when he was out on official business, which had sort of impaired his natural ability to put names to faces). “Hey David, good to see you again. Looking forward to classes starting up again?” He offered smoothly, giving no indication that he had been scrambling for the proper greeting only split seconds earlier. He reached out to shake the boy’s hand in a friendly, casual manner, everything about him encouraging and warm. He remembered now that David was an early high school graduate, and about to start working on his degree at UNLV - though the specific field currently escaped him. He was counting on the boy to clue him in first, or else he would just avoid specifics. After the young man had taken Alexis’ order and stammered out a greeting in reply, eyes dancing between the city councilor and the blonde man, Dallas put on his most reassuring smile and nodded his head across the table. “This is my friend Alexis. He’s expressed an interest in learning about his rights as a constituent. Isn’t that right, Alexis?” Dallas managed to pull off just the right mixture of enthusiastic and carefree, before he shut his own menu and handed it over. “I’ll have a cup of the earl grey oolong, thanks.” His order was somehow both polite and dismissive, his attention focused back on Alexis with little more than a shift of his posture. David’s pen scratched on his order pad as Alexis' light eyes found Dallas', where they lingered only briefly. The younger man then turned his attention to the boy as the pen stilled. He offered a reserved smile, but said nothing. For all intents and purposes, it appeared he had agreed to Dallas' assertion of who Alexis was and why the two men were together at 11 AM on a Sunday morning. Not so as naive as to think lying wasn't an integral part of living in a society full of other people, it still wasn't something Alexis often chose to do, unless he deemed it necessary. He wasn't ashamed of what he did, after all - but lying to the wives and friends of his clientele was a part of the job. That said, he was surprised by the ease in his table mate's demeanor - in the effortless way the ruse rolled off his tongue. Couple such an ability with an affable man like Dallas Shay and you had yourself an unstoppable political force. That was interesting - as was the warm way he went about sending David off to fetch their tea. It spoke volumes to a man like Alexis, a man who was always watching, and he continued to take note of the man across from him, stowing the little bits of information away in the back of his mind. A silence filled the boy's wake, and once David had disappeared behind the doors to the kitchen to post their ticket, Alexis looked back at Dallas, his face impassive and betraying nothing. There was a beat. "Some say sparkly gowns are tacky. But, I'm picturing you in the dress, and I like it," he said finally, deciding not to comment on the exchange with the waiter. It wasn't any of his business what things Dallas told people about whom he was meeting with and why. He had learned long ago that everyone had their reasons for acting as they did, and far be it from him to judge them for doing what they thought they needed to. A small smile pulled at the corner of Alexis' mouth. Dallas was pleased to find that Alexis didn’t make any complaints about Dallas’ obvious falsehoods, though it didn’t much surprise him. Surely Alexis could empathize with the need to maintain control of a situation, especially in order to keep up with a reputation. Either way, weren’t prostitutes required to excel in discretion? It was certainly no secret that politics were rife with secrets and lies, and a certain talent for manipulation always lent itself to an upper hand. Dallas had spent what felt like his entire life practicing, all the way from being a confused and lonely boy in a strict religious family, right up until he moved into a big-city political office with his name on the door. (He tried not to let the habit carry over too much into his personal life, but he did whatever had to be done. It was self-preservation, which included the protection of his daughter and the life he had built for the two of them.) “Smart man. I’ve been told I have rather shapely legs,” he smirked, though it was more good-natured than sarcastic. With most of his nerves soothed by the little jolt of adrenaline that his lies had shot through him, Dallas’ hands were steady and he linked his fingers together on the tabletop. Before he continued he noticed that their server was weaving his way back across the busy floor with their tea balanced precariously on a tray. He waited until their mugs were placed on the table and David had started back in the direction of the kitchen area before he spoke up again. “Loras wants me to know how Renly’s doing,” he said in a more careful tone, sweeping his gaze across the room once and casually lowering his voice just a bit. Thanking David for the tea, Alexis lifted the piping cup to his lips and blew a cool breath over the hot surface of the drink. The thin tendrils of steam swirled away into the air. The younger man had laughed at Dallas' mention of his, apparently, shapely gams - it was a quiet sound, low and unobtrusive, but obviously pleased. A slim hand went to brush a stray wisp of hair from his brow and, as the conversation they came to have began in earnest, Alexis quieted down as Renly's ears perked up at the mention of his name. The question sent the king into a bit of a frenzy, provoking something of an avalanche of responses as Renly tried to put to words exactly how he'd been and when was he going to see Loras, etc. The ruckus prompted Alexis to close his eyes briefly as he willed the other man to calm himself. - It didn't take long. Both men knew the exchange would go much more smoothly if they could actually hear what Loras and Dallas had to say. "Speaking of his lover over-excites him. Excuse me," said the whore in a quiet tone, dipping his head apologetically. Once Renly was quiet again, Alexis appeared thoughtful, inwardly inquiring how the king would like to answer. After a small pause, he trained his eyes and attention back on Dallas. "In so many words, he tells me he is well, but for not seeing Loras as much as he likes." Lightly, Alexis reached for his cup of tea, took a sip, and decided to let it steep a little longer. He placed it on the table, his own hands ever steady. (There wasn't much that made him nervous, and even when something did, you'd be hard-pressed to prove it. He knew how not to betray himself.) "Renly begs me to arrange a more regular schedule for him and Loras to rendezvous." Alexis smiled, very amused, and shook his head. "Oh, I'm sorry. He's reminded me that kings don't beg. He requests a more regular meeting." Dallas could certainly understand the problem presented by having an overly-enthusiastic companion sharing your brain. It was no small miracle that he had managed to subdue Loras’ comments and remarks to a quiet purr, and of course as soon as Dallas made an effort to tune in and ask after Loras’ thoughts, all restraint went out the window. He actually winced at the initial volume of Loras’ voice in his head, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped at the edge of the table. Perhaps in the future he would refrain from calling attention to Loras without warning - at least, he would try for the sake of his brain. Ouch. “I think I can relate to that,” he said wryly, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against his brow for a long moment, until the pain relented a bit. “Our friend Loras tends to be rather pushy, and he’s accustomed to being heard. He doesn’t much appreciate it when I try to ignore him.” Dallas moved his own cup closer, fingers tented against the smooth surface of the ceramic mug as he waited for the hot tea to cool enough to be tasted. He could be patient - it was, in fact, one of his best qualities. His gaze shifted down for a long moment, green eyes cast over the surface of the drink in front of him, contemplating the rippled reflections of the world that seemed to spiral out of control when a wave of dizziness swept over him. It was almost intoxicating, to have another person sharing the boundaries of your brain, and Dallas found he very nearly enjoyed it. It was foreign, like the sensation of your own numbed limb brushing against your side. It left him off-balance, oddly vulnerable, and even as he reeled at a sideways glimpse of Alexis’ blonde hair falling over his eye, Dallas wondered whether something was wrong with him. “Renly,” he began after a pause, clearing his throat and rolling his neck until his joints gave an audible pop. “Renly is right. We should arrange something that’ll allow them to see each other more often. It doesn’t feel right, to keep them apart.” He watched as Dallas' grip tightened on the edge of the table, as the man winced - no doubt thanks to Loras' own explosive response to the conversation at hand. And Alexis could sympathize. It was understandably frustrating to try to talk to someone through not just one other person, but two - and to have one's words appropriated and minced along the way. The young prostitute figured that had he been in Renly's place - or Loras' - he would react much the same way. That said, he didn't envy Dallas, who, of the two of them, most certainly had the more... vociferous alter. (Renly was verbose, but he was careful to regulate his volume.) "You don't say." It was mostly because of Renly that Alexis laughed at Dallas' comment about Loras being pushy. He lifted his eyes from where they'd fallen on the table, to flick them at the other man and smile coyly. Though Alexis knew one other person, personally, who shared headspace with a character of someone else's creation - Bailey -, he was quite unsure of how all those he saw regularly on the app handled theirs - how they managed their time, split between two realities. Of course, he knew, it likely varied greatly person to person, and alter to alter, but he wondered if anyone else had sat down to allot time, down to the minute. Musing, Alexis lifted the small contraption holding the loose tea from his cup and set it on the saucer the drink had been served on. "No," the younger man agreed, his gaze returned to Dallas. "I'm open to whatever you can manage. As I make my own schedule, it won't be an issue for me to find the time to make my way to the hotel. I suspect the pair of them have much to discuss. Especially given that it appears the realm is uncharacteristically quiet. - Tell me if you know more, but what I've gleaned from others' posts is that important figures will remain missing until they find their own mind to inhabit, and a form to cross the threshold back into wherever it is they're from. Which, as Renly has told me time and again, makes now the optimal time to make a decisive strike against all who bar his way to the Iron Throne." That was likely the most Alexis was going to say for the week. His usual reticence had been momentarily overridden by Renly's insistence. Carefully, he dropped his eyes and brought the teacup to his lips, taking a sip as he did so. Dallas couldn’t help but brighten a bit at the other man’s words, so sensitive was he to Loras’ emotions and urges. They cohabited in a dual consciousness so closely that Dallas could feel Loras’ relief at the thought of seeing Renly, of holding him close and kissing him. There was a sense of pleasure that warmed the pit of Dallas’ stomach and he even felt his face flush with blood. He hoped that Alexis would chalk the reaction up as result of Loras, rather than anything that had to do with Dallas recalling what he might have enjoyed during their last trip through the door. “No, I don’t know any more than you do,” he said with a slight shake of his head. He picked up his mug and took a long drink of the hot tea, closing his eyes momentarily as the slight burn worked its way over his lips and down his throat. The heat cut through the hazy atmosphere of the restaurant and woke him up a bit, even easing the ache behind his eyes that had come from Loras’ lack of volume control. “Loras doesn’t like spending so much time on this side of the door. He’s growing restless. He says that he’s out of practice in his fighting, and that he must train if he’s going to lead Renly’s army against King’s Landing.” Dallas smiled again, this one warmer than the rest because he was, in fact, quite fond of Loras. He also admired the man’s ambition, and his unwavering dedication to Renly. He was actually jealous, as he was coming to realize. And so he knew that he would try to be a good host and accommodate Loras’ wants and desires, “Weekends are probably the easiest to arrange, but I can try to work out my schedule so that I get a few free evenings throughout the week. I guess we can work it out on an ongoing basis. Would it be completely absurd to - I don’t know, exchange emails or something?” The blush that crawled up Dallas' neck, reaching beyond the silly collar of his polo shirt, and coloring his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by Alexis, but it did go unmentioned. The younger man turned to focus on his own cup of tea, where it sat, nestled and warm, between his hands, allowing his companion a moment. Luckily, perhaps, for Dallas, Alexis wasn't particularly worried about the cause of the other man's reddening. He figured it wasn't his business what made someone else blush, unless he was on the clock. It did, however, make him smile. Alexis cocked his head as he listened to Dallas speaking - or Loras speaking through Dallas, whichever. He raised his eyebrows and set the cup gently on the table. Lifting himself a few inches above the booth seat, he managed to fish both of his cellphones from his back pocket. One was a white iPhone, the screen a little scuffed from daily use; the second was a generic brand that looked like it came from the year 2002. Alexis pushed the prepaid phone aside and swiped at the screen of his iPhone. Several messages appeared, but the man ignored them and opened a new contact, then, his chin still tucked to his chest, looked up at Dallas. More strands of the blonde's hair sprung from where he'd slicked them back and fell in his eyes. "Give me your phone number," he said in a tone that was neither commanding nor questioning. It was a tone that had been perfected after years of microexchanges with strangers. It was decisive, but not so harsh as to scare someone away. Alexis moved the wild hair from his eyes with a toss of the head. There was a very brief moment there - just a fleeting thing, a flash of uncertainty that felt like a cold lump in his throat - when Dallas was sure that Alexis was getting up to leave. Dallas had managed to offend him somehow when he’d wondered aloud about their exchange of contact information... or maybe he’d upset Renly? Of course, then Alexis pulled a phone out of his back pocket and it all made sense. Well, almost. There were two phones, one battered and looking like it was nearly as old as Alexis, and the other a modern iPhone. Dallas couldn’t help it: his eyebrow rose into a graceful arch of its own accord, and he bit down on the fleshy part of his bottom lip in order to keep himself from asking about it. He was curious, but as a rule he tried not to pry into business that didn’t concern him. But two phones? What could anyone possibly -- oh. Oh. Dallas ducked his head in an attempt to hide his own idiocy, as if looking down at his hands would somehow prevent Alexis from reading his thoughts. Of course a prostitute who wasn’t working out of a brothel would want to have a second phone. It was probably so old so that it wouldn’t be wired up with any fancy new GPS systems that could be tracked, if ever anyone had the inclination. Duh. “Um,” he repeated as he fumbled for a moment, reaching into his own pocket to pull out his phone, a fancy Android thing that Rosie’s babysitter had insisted would be better than his last phone. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking up at Alexis through lowered lashes and somehow resisting the urge to glance around the restaurant. What did it matter if someone was watching? Dallas didn’t think he was particularly recognizable out of his suit or when he wasn’t in front of a podium, anyway. Finally he blurted out his number, then swiped open his contact list and waited expectantly for Alexis to return the favor. The pause between his request and Dallas’ response was enough of a clue for Alexis. Of course, he realized having two phones was strange for most outside of CEOs and prostitutes, but he just kept his face blank and waited for the politician to supply him with a number. Had he been asked, he would have happily explained the uses for two phones when one was a prostitute, all without batting an eyelash, but as it was, he saw the realization slowly dawn on the other man’s face after the eyebrow quirk, and decided instead to smile. His eyes went to the sad, battered phone that had been pushed aside, to the iPhone he held cradled in his palms, to Dallas. Once he had the numbered entered and saved, the phones were returned to their pocket. Alexis did it all without his expression changing much, save for the solitary smile. When it was his turn, there wasn’t a moment of hesitance. He rattled off the number. Though the little black phone had many more contacts, all meticulously organized by first name and last initial, and received more calls, it was the iPhone that was for Alexis’ personal use - and that was the number Dallas was going to get. And, unless the day came that the other man was paying him for sex, it was where he was going to stay. Once their numbers had been exchanged, Alexis smiled happily and took another swig of his tea. Not once had he worried about how it might look for two men such as them to be getting each other’s phone numbers in a restaurant on a Sunday morning, when, presumably, if they were friends enough to meet for brunch, they’d already have each other’s contact information. Because, to his mind, Alexis couldn’t see why it mattered to anyone else why he did much of anything, or with whom he did it. After giving Dallas another appraising look and pondering briefly on the man’s crooked, but endearing grin, Alexis ran a hand over his own mouth, dropped his eyes to the table, and raised them slowly. “You know,” he spoke softly as he folded his hands on the tabletop. Renly and Loras were briefly forgotten. “I have a feeling that you could kill a man and he’d still like you.” Dallas felt the change, however subtle it may have been. There was a particular cadence, an expression in Alexis’ lilting voice that was very telling - they were no longer speaking about their others. Loras and Renly were important, essential to even the basic fact that Alexis and Dallas had any reason to interact, yet it was clear that they were not the only reason that Dallas sat across the table from a young, handsome whore. He wanted to be there, however dangerous it may have been. Alexis was smart, but he was also funny - and he was the first person that Dallas had met in a very long time who had absolutely zero interest in what Dallas’ position of authority could do to benefit him. With Alexis’ number safely stored in his address book, Dallas’ eyes couldn’t help but follow the path that the other man’s slender hand followed. First there was the journey over Alexis’ pert mouth, lips flushed and rounded so gently against the contours of the younger man’s face that Dallas felt his heart speed up against his sternum. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment,” he said softly, green eyes flashing a deep emerald as he held his gaze on Alexis’ features. “For the record, I’d like to point out that killing anyone is fairly low on my bucket list.” “The fact that it’s on the list says enough,” replied Alexis in the same quiet voice, though a touch of amusement now tinged his words. His usual cool smile pulled at his lips and he looked up from his hands to Dallas. As a man who made his living reading and watching people for signs of interest (a very specific interest, mind), the subtle path the other man’s eyes took - to from Alexis’ lips as he moved his hand over them, to where said hand came to rest on the table was one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the whore. And though Dallas had been anything but overt and the whole thing lasted maybe a half a second, it stood out to Alexis like a straight man at Drink & Drag Lounge. It was as if he was on autopilot - he wasn’t working, after all - but once something had been registered - be it a gesture or a small change in the cadence of someone’s voice - as an indication of interest, all of his other senses shifted into overdrive as he, usually, tried to use the knowledge to his advantage. Of course, he wasn’t trying to pick anyone up at the small table, with his tea sitting and steaming in front of him. But it was rather hard to turn off what had essentially become his default mode of interaction. Where, in most other situations, he might have used the attention on his lips and hands as a way to further someone’s interest in him, Alexis did nothing more than flick his eyes once again from Dallas’ own mouth to his eyes and smile again. He ran a hand through his ill-behaved hair, pushing it back into its place on top of his head, and let his gaze fall to the table. He let out a small laugh, but adopted a neutral expression again as he turned to address the politician. “So weekends and evenings work best, hm? I think that can be arranged.” “I think that will make Loras very happy,” he managed after a few seconds, recovering from a brief moment of confusing, stomach-churning panic. Loras could not resist the opportunity to speak up in his head, giving what Dallas understood to be the mental equivalent of very enthusiastic nods and murmurs of agreement. Dallas couldn’t help but laugh, head tipped back and eyes crinkling at the corners since the man’s happiness was indeed infectious. “Make that nearly ecstatic,” he corrected himself wryly, reaching up and tapping two fingertips against his temple as an indicator that there was more than simple happiness going on in his head. Now that his tea was cool, Dallas picked up the mug and finished off the last of his drink in a few long sips, feeling the warmth spread within him. “Thank you for meeting me, Alexis. I’m glad we did this. I guess that we can talk sometime in the next couple of days and figure out a time that works best for both of us.” Dallas waited for Alexis to confirm his suggestion, and before he took his leave he lingered a moment. It was undeniable that between them lay a connection, a golden thread that linked them together through the men that resided in their respective minds, and despite however tenuous a link it may have been, Dallas was determined that he would do his part to maintain it. Odd as it was for a man in his position, he was no longer so wholly unsettled by the thought of a city councilman becoming friends with a male prostitute. Even if it did sound like the setup for a bad joke. |