Re: [At the Carnival]
[This then, new world order. Jude tipped chin onto the fine mass of Oliver's curls as his own head rested briefly and warm on the expanse of Jude's shoulder. The show reminded him of modern art, spectacle and spectacular. It was vivid and it was red, crimson and scarlet and vermilion and if the store had been wiped out in red sea this new sanctuary was built upon it. Fitting, rather. Jude thought musicians and artists sat together (begging pardon: musicians who invented, because the devil horns and the play to the back of the theater said Misha could invent and Jude himself was neither creator nor constructor, rather mimicry and play if you please) on the scale of artistry, but:] Noted, not an artist, then, sunshine.
[They were up high, high enough that Jude could fancy stealing into seats instead of paying for them, but Oliver roamed up and along and hello, new beginnings. This then, love's young dream (or fancy, but Jude was obligatory obliging on the terminology appropriated. He gave Oli's shoulder warm prompt in the spread of fingers.] Go on then, if you're going.
[We'll ignore the sleight of hand that was the apple, please and thank you. Old tricks died hard, and concealment had always been Jude's particular skill. The apple was lost in the dust beneath the seats and Jude sprawled in apparent pleasure to wait on the orchestration and production of the musician.]