Re: Damon + Samandriel
He wished the glass was full, or that he had several more glasses in front of him. There were several reasons he wanted drinks, wondering idly if it was his own form of self-punishment, for being exactly what people thought of him.
He was quiet for a minute, which was as good as an admission of his own. His mind kept focusing on one word. That one word that kept him coming back. He did know. He was at the Lux the night after the engagement because he knew, and was actually verifying that whatever it was between them still existed. It was perhaps a toxic relationship.
"I know," he said evenly. The man had moved more into the line of vision, but was looking at the floor. "I also know that you love those blurred lines as much as I do. You love dancing on the edge, getting that rush from it, especially when you are expected to be more - ," his tongue flipped over possible words, "mature, perfect maybe, or maybe just more." It was on of those reasons why he drank. Standards and expectations often left him fighting with himself.
He carded a finger through dark hair, well aware that he was a little drunk, and his brain wasn't entirely as clear as it should be. He didn't have that same control. If he wanted to set a hard, defining line, he could simply walk out of the room, refuse to have this conversation, which was sure to bring that familiar temptation. Instead he turned to face the angel more, back to the moulding, arms crossed over his chest. "You might have an open relationship, but -- ," he began, but paused, considering a question instead. "How many others are there? How many more temptations?"