log: louis and ren
Louis had no idea what sort of stories he was lining up for, but he was intrigued. He genuinely liked Ren, who had become a safe solace in his usual whirlwind of complex feeling and a more complex life. His quiet world of managing the antique store continued to be punctuated by interludes where Desire wanted to stretch her legs, visiting the Capital or enjoying the novelty of being a town busybody in Repose - matching people up, breaking them up again, watching people move around her, for the first time, as if they were more than just clockwork dolls for her amusement.
He had never visited the mansion by the lake. He didn't even make the connection that Ren might be connected to it, somehow. He assumed the mansion was a convenient meeting point, a recognizable landmark on the picturesque lakeshore.
He certainly wasn't expecting Ren to be inside the house. When he noticed the lights on at the top of the steps, he slowed a little in his approach. He was carrying the promised bottle of wine in a leather bag slung over his shoulder, and he thought perhaps the owners of the home might spot him trespassing across their lawn.
But there was Ren, just inside the open door. He paused at the gate. He had dressed lightly for the spring evening, sleek blue pants and a neat button-down.
"You're living at the motel?" He asked, incredulous.