Re: log: louis and ren
There was a cheap bottle opener in the bag. Louis set the bottles down and produced the riesling, working the curlicue metal spike into the cork with a few sharp twists. "Let us both hope that trust is not misplaced," he said, with a smile. He gave them both an ample pour. "If it's terrible, that's what balconies are for, I suppose. We can dash it over the edge and pretend to be devil-may-care."
He didn't think Ren was devil-may-care, anyway. This was all too measured, too well thought out. The house was the perfect setting, and the balcony, with a beautiful view of the landscape and the lake, was too perfect a vantage point for storytelling. He didn't think Ren was calculated, per se, but he didn't seem like the type to throw caution to the wind.
How much of him had he seen, though, really? Maybe not enough to judge. Then Ren told him his mother owned the house, and he absorbed it with a thoughtful pause.
"Not completely surprised," he admitted, looking over at him. Ren had a real look, and Louis did his best to meet it. There was typically a lot going on behind those slate grey eyes, moving silverfish quick. "But more surprised that you didn't say 'my parents.' I don't know why, though. Just an easy assumption. Are they together?"