Re: log: antique store - louis, misha, and damian
If he hadn't warned them both so thoroughly, no doubt Louis would have felt even guiltier about the lapse. The boys didn't know, of course, that he'd known about Damian before they walked inside, though he hadn't known the specific substance in question until five minutes ago. But he had thought about it, worried over whether Damian would feel well enough, whether Misha would be alright after his strange dissociation when they brought Bruce to the apartment after the party. He took each of them at their word that they would be alright. Their help was generous, but well informed. It didn't make him feel any better about offering pills to an addict, but at least they weren't flying blind. Louis looked back when Misha threw him that look, and he smiled, faintly. "No, I suppose not."
Louis hard forgotten completely that Damian lacked a very good sample for what he might be like on an ordinary day. They had spoken on the phone, of course, but they'd only met when he was badly hurt. This was almost a first meeting, now that he had a control of himself again. There was something about Damian's quiet that made him feel as if he was being scrutinized, and he tried not to pay too much attention to where he was looking or how he arranged his face under that gaze. For himself, he would remember to tell Sam that Damian didn't look well, later. He did seem comfortable, though, settled on Misha like an outsized house cat. It was charming, really. He watched Damian pinch out the cigarette with a flicker of consternation. He couldn't feel the pain, or any wish for it not to exist, but it was only a moment. The flicker in his expression was only ordinary sympathy for something that seemed like a bad, painful idea, but then it was over.
He watched as Damian approached. Both his hands were still clasped together, but he lifted them tentatively over the tabletop as Damian sat down. It made perfect sense, he rationalized, that if he knew what was coming, he could guard against it. Hadn't he managed to sit across from Bruce with no ill effects? "I don't mind," he said.
Then his gaze fixed on Misha. "Is that so?" he asked. His pleasure at hearing Misha say so was evident. He wasn't completely positive what 'being Host' meant, but it meant Misha had acknowledged there was more to him than he'd been willing to admit. Hence the quiet desire to be human, which made much more sense in context. "Thank you." The things people wanted could hurt them, unfortunately, even if his imperative to fulfill those desires was straightforward enough. It was a relief to know Damian was at no real risk.
He looked up at Damian, and he felt that shift in what he wanted like a tide rolling in. The addiction fell into the background, still present, still pressing, but less immediate. What a difference a room of distance could make. Unused to incense, all he could think of when Damian came close was the resiny richness of some old books, or the scent of old perfume in the lining of old clothing.