(no subject)

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty is sprawled on the sofa in front of the fire, hanging half off one end, his violin crooked against his shoulder as he plays Giuseppe Tartini's Violin Sonata in G Minor.

It's not a particularly cheerful tune, but what it is is technically demanding, and Moriarty has his eyes shut and brow furrowed slightly. He'd probably be fairly easy to sneak up on.

Botherable.

[OOC: Mun is sleeping now, but the EP is open forever.]

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

Oh, he knows what you mean, and he still thinks you're precious.

(What it would be like to corrupt such preciousness is another train of thought altogether.)

"Ah, Victorian London," he muses. This explains the fierce blushing. "And you are Irish, are you not?"

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"I am, aye," Moriarty says, a little emboldened to be back on more familiar conversational ground. "I have only taken up residence in London in the past few years."

[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee stares thoughtfully into the flickering fire, cigarette held near his lips as he speaks.

"Mm, I have made the acquaintance of a few Irishmen at the Kit Kat Klub. Large ruddy-cheeked, ginger-haired sailors, and mousy, bespectacled writers in waistcoats and polished brogues. Both ends of the spectrum of physicality and intellect, but nevertheless passionate in their own ways."

He turns his head, fixing Moriarty with coal-black eyes.

"And what have you a passion for, darling?"

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Wryly: "Which one am I, then, a large ginger sailor, or a mousy bespectacled writer?"

He does shuffle a little uncomfortably at the question. "Music. Puzzles. I will be honest and say that so much of my life seems to just be a hunt for distractions."

[i_am_your_host]

Also wryly: "I would venture that you have the best qualities from both worlds."

The reply to his question intrigues him, and he tilts his head, his gaze no less intent.

"Distractions from what?"

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty's blush returns in full force at that.

"Just - distractions. Without activity to keep my mind occupied, I grow agitated and on edge and, perhaps, more than a little self-destructive."

[i_am_your_host]

"I see..."

He takes a drag off his cigarette, eyes still fixed on Moriarty, although now he may be seeing deeper into him.

It's why he runs the show. It's his duty to gauge and engage the audience; to direct and redirect their attention; to make them forget the world outside those walls, and within themselves.

The music, the dancing, the boys and girls -- himself -- all distractions.

"Then surely there must be more than mere puzzles and a tune or two to exercise your fingers on a violin. Someone like you -- you need more than that. So allow me to rephrase my question, darling."

He leans toward him ever so slightly.

"What makes you feel alive?"

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty fixes him with a level stare, crooking one eyebrow down.

"Why do you ask?"

A beat. He rubs the back of his head. "Challenge. Chasing down someone who can match me at every turn, forces me to strain my mind in their pursuit, and who I could lose against."

Which is to say, Rache. In Moriarty's world, at least, he's the only one, and Moriarty couldn't help but feel some glee when the man outsmarted him.

[i_am_your_host]

"Marvelous," he purrs as a smile slowly spreads, with an ever-present undercurrent of a leer, pleased with his answer.

There may be hope for him yet.

"And why do we ask anything about anybody, darling? Curiosity. Interest. Knowledge. And if that particular someone is proving difficult with his answers -- a challenge, perhaps."

Have a smirk.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty ducks his head sheepishly, peering at his knees for a moment. He's not used to people purring at him. Or sort-of-leering, for that matter.

"I wouldn't say I was being difficult."

[i_am_your_host]

"I never said you were, darling. Only, I think, you are being difficult with yourself."

The perpetual blushing, the nervous and awkward glances.

Boldly, the Emcee reaches over and takes Moriarty's chin in his cool fingertips, turning his face toward him.

"Try not to be."


And with that, he gets to his feet, and taking one last drag off his cigarette, flicks the stub into the fireplace.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty goes very still, letting his face be turned. He does nod, though.

"I will, er, keep that in - mind."

[i_am_your_host]

"Please do, darling," he murmurs over his shoulder before turning to face him.

One hand in the pocket of his coat, he extends the other toward him.

"It was an absolute delight to meet you, Herr Moriarty. I only hope I might have the pleasure of speaking with you again soon."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"As do I," Moriarty says, shaking his hand.

[i_am_your_host]

He gives his hand a subtle squeeze and takes a step closer, meeting his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in a faint smirk.

"Perhaps next time, you'll be playing something a little more cheerful. Hm?"

Slipping his hand from his and sliding it into his pocket, he bobs his head in a small nod at him, before turning and slinking away.