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[the_cupbearer]

Splayed out on the couch is one very pretty young man in a tunic of deep Trojan blue, and black leather trousers, barefoot with a thin silver and copper anklet. It's made of a multitude of bells, each chiming a little sweet note when he moves. He's slowly furrowing out grooves in the two flute pipes in his lap, all the better for binding them together.

Do tell him to move if he's taking up your space.

Comments

[onceaviking]

"Good evening, Ganymede," Eric says.
He has arrived back in Shreveport and thus he is dressed for office work. Which, when you are Eric , means a dark blue track suit (Pam picked it; it was expensive) and light blue flip flops.

He has very long and narrow feet.

He's got a bottle of TruBlood in one hand (brought from home) and his cell phone, a pen, a small notebook, and a necklace (bronze, hammer shaped pendant) in the other.

"Mind if I sit down?"

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede's never quite understood the allure of tracksuits. Then again he's never really understood the desire to run in circles voluntarily anyway, either.

He tilts his head back to look straight up at Eric, baring his throat in the process as he seems to consider the option of moving versus that of not. In the end he shrugs, and doesn't yet move more than a little out of the way. He's sure Eric will make himself comfortable. "Well, it certainly just got better," he smiles lazily. "I don't mind at all. What have you got there?"

[onceaviking]

Eric is not in favor of running in circles either.
He just likes the fabric.

He also likes the view. It may show in his smile.

He puts his stuff down on the table and takes the offered small space. Lounging.
If parts of him are almost draped across Ganymede, well, he could just not hog most of the couch.

It really is a lovely neck.

"Work. And a broken necklace. I should get it fixed."

[the_cupbearer]

"Oh?" he asks simply, a syllable that requires infinite expansion as he stretches languidly, not minding at all the parts of Eric that are almost draped across him. On the contrary, he merely flexes his ankles, curling and uncurling his toes with a jangle of merry little bells, each only about the size of Ganymede's smallest fingernail.

He keeps his head slid back, watching the vampire's face move upside-down. "Perhaps I can help you with one of those things."

[onceaviking]

Eric shifts a little, getting comfortable. Then he lifts one long leg so he can rest his ankle on the armrest. Stretching it across Ganymede.
The flip flop bobs merrily.

"I am thinking," he says, "that you are not offering to call a couple of new distributors for me to get quotes?" Seeing as how there is no signal here. And it's work.

His skin is pale and cool. His body is firm and quiet.

"Are you good with chains?"

The chain is fairly delicate and made of long links wrapped in copper wire. One of the links has been twisted out of shape.

The pendants is a stylized hammer. It's old, the chain less so.

[the_cupbearer]

"You would be thinking correctly," he replies, taking the tiny chain and inspecting it before his attention turns to the hammer for only a moment. Fixing the link is a deceptively easy process, the fine blade of Ganymede's knife braced against the pad of his thumb to give him a hard enough leverage point to bend the link together, joining the chain again and adjusting the copper wrap.

He's fixed things like this for a long time, most of the examples his own. In one way or another. Ganymede just gets comfortable in the way Eric is wrapped around him and is cooling to his skin, though the distinct lack of a heartbeat thudding at his back is always something to get used to, every time. "A hammer pendant. Utilitarian, isn't it?" he asks.

[onceaviking]

Eric watches him work.

"You've got very nimble fingers," he remarks. "And it is a symbol more than anything. Of virility." His smile stretches and shows of his even, white teeth.

"What kind of payment do up you ask for repairs like that?" One of his hands strokes down the chain, making it dance from Ganymede's finger.
Then the hand ends up resting on Ganymede's hip. Casually.

[the_cupbearer]

"Well, it's not the worst thing that's been said of my abilities," he murmurs, watching the chain dance and wave as Eric draws on it. He doesn't miss the part where the vampire's hand is resting over the side lacing of his trousers; Ganymede can, when it suits him, have the patience of the proverbial saint.

"The more applicable question is what kind of payment you want to give me," the immortal smiles back.

[onceaviking]

"Well," Eric says, slowly. "There is always money of course. But that seems so - pedestrian. Kisses? Kisses could be said to be customary. In some cases."

If you were the Goddess of love, and kisses in fact meant ' nights spend with'. But close enough.

He seems to be in a good mood. Almost teasing.

[never_shall_yield]

He is not taking up Javert's space, because Javert was about to leave. But when he sees Ganymede, he makes a detour and comes to stop in front of him. He would speak immediately, but he is looking over the man's tunic - and are those leather trousers? - and then regarding the flute with a blank expression.

'Good evening,' he says, politely. Eventually.

'May I take the horse?'

[the_cupbearer]

The clothing really isn't all that unusual for Ganymede; he had been out riding, and leather is useful for that, even ifhis are laceddown the sides, exposing skin from his waist to his ankles. The tunic is loose, breezy, open at the neck and elbows.

He looks up at Javert mildly, setting his knife aside. "Are you asking again? I told you it was alright to take him when you wished to," he says.

[never_shall_yield]

The clothes never stop being unusual for Javert, as if he somehow hopes the man is going to stop being different every time he sees him.

'I did not know he was here. No matter. I will fetch him then.'

[the_cupbearer]

"Do you have a place to take him, then? Last we talked you were waiting on that," Ganymede says. "If you'd like I'll help you with him."

[never_shall_yield]

'I walked to the town to find a door, and have told my hosts a friend would leave a horse there for me. It will not be strange when I ride him back.'

He might have garnered a strange look for mentioning having a friend, but he does not care about that.

'If you would like to come you are very welcome, but I imagine I can handle him well enough.'

[the_cupbearer]

"I imagine you could, given he's not incredibly difficult as horses go," he replies. "Would you object if I did come with you?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Not at all.'

He looks Ganymede over again.

'You will need to change your clothes, though.'

[the_cupbearer]

"I had thought as much by the way you looked at what I'm wearing," he murmurs. "By all means, tell me what I should wear, then. It's been a while since I had to worry about blending in perfectly."

[capture_eternity]

"A diaulos!" Dorian breathes, entranced, when he sees Ganymede with his flutes. "I know them from Greek vase paintings, but I never hoped to hear a living one, as it were."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede chuckles when he hears that enthusiastic tone, and looks up at Dorian with a little smile, jangling his ankle and sounding the bells as he shifts. "Indeed it is, and I won't say I'm the best musician, but I like having the ability. You may certainly sit and watch if you'd like."

[capture_eternity]

"And bells to go with it, for rhythm!" Dorian says. He sits down on the next couch and then sprawls, smiling brightly at Ganymede. "Can you play the oldest song you know? Please?"

[the_cupbearer]

"Not the one I've practiced most recently?" he asks, chuckling.

"When I finish binding it, yes, I'll play you something."

[capture_eternity]

"What have you been doing?" Dorian asks, curious.

What does an ancient immortal do in the future?

[the_cupbearer]

"Oh, this and that. Moving to another house temporarily, though, that was fun."

[capture_eternity]

"From town to country, or something less -- starchy?" Dorian asks.

[the_cupbearer]

"From continent to continent," he says. "North America to Africa. Morocco."