[ Don't fall off the deep end in the back, the man tells him and Claude's smile widens slightly as he chuckles; in a way that would have been a proper laugh if he weren't saving his breath, sorry gorgeous person in front of him. He'll laugh with you for real next time. ]
I'll try not to roll into the deep.
[ Shaking his head in a way that doesn't mean no, it means don't worry, Claude straightens up, stretching slightly in his shirt and vest plus jacket that always feel a little bit constricting, even with all the extra seams and inlays. Arms well above his head, that's how he does it, the stretch. All the while he regards the other man, noticing his long hair this time, easy bun at the back of his neck, keeping it out of his face. The rest just hanging loose. Looks good on him. Looks natural. Even with the trends of the time, not a lot of guys dare go that long, but - Claude thinks - this man couldn't have it any differently.
And Claude likes it, too. He supposes.
Arms coming down, shoulders doing a roll, he gives a little wave at some of the Champs Élysées couples that are beginning to mill by them, though most of his attention is still on the head technician. He wishes with everything he has that he isn't going to take his leave yet. They've got five minutes yet, and Claude feels invigorated. For some reason.
So, if not for Claude, he wants the man to stay for the performance. He'd like to dance for him, he thinks. Of course, dancing for people is what he does, he's a professional, a true artist, as it has been termed by the dancers, but there are performances that are more personal, intimate, still.
He swears, though, he isn't trying. He doesn't even know which way the man swings, leather is no real indicator anymore, if it ever was, like everything else you put on your body it's just an aesthetic. Choice.
He's just got a feeling. ]
Will you throw me a lifebuoy if I do fall in?
[ The guys on the spots are usually pretty amazing, they can save anything and everyone, but they're not really talking about the guys working the spots. Claude hopes he knows. Whatever his name is. ]
no subject
I'll try not to roll into the deep.
[ Shaking his head in a way that doesn't mean no, it means don't worry, Claude straightens up, stretching slightly in his shirt and vest plus jacket that always feel a little bit constricting, even with all the extra seams and inlays. Arms well above his head, that's how he does it, the stretch. All the while he regards the other man, noticing his long hair this time, easy bun at the back of his neck, keeping it out of his face. The rest just hanging loose. Looks good on him. Looks natural. Even with the trends of the time, not a lot of guys dare go that long, but - Claude thinks - this man couldn't have it any differently.
And Claude likes it, too. He supposes.
Arms coming down, shoulders doing a roll, he gives a little wave at some of the Champs Élysées couples that are beginning to mill by them, though most of his attention is still on the head technician. He wishes with everything he has that he isn't going to take his leave yet. They've got five minutes yet, and Claude feels invigorated. For some reason.
So, if not for Claude, he wants the man to stay for the performance. He'd like to dance for him, he thinks. Of course, dancing for people is what he does, he's a professional, a true artist, as it has been termed by the dancers, but there are performances that are more personal, intimate, still.
He swears, though, he isn't trying. He doesn't even know which way the man swings, leather is no real indicator anymore, if it ever was, like everything else you put on your body it's just an aesthetic. Choice.
He's just got a feeling. ]
Will you throw me a lifebuoy if I do fall in?
[ The guys on the spots are usually pretty amazing, they can save anything and everyone, but they're not really talking about the guys working the spots. Claude hopes he knows. Whatever his name is. ]