[ It comes out very earnestly, while also still keeping the balance of flirtatiousness, just a little bit impish, not too serious, you know, just true. Very true. Claude isn't worried. These guys have never let them down, everyone knows they're the best at what they do, that's why the Opéra bothers hiring them for the big jobs in the first place, to get that kind of quality control where it'll matter the most.
And although it disturbs his train of thought, very work-centered, very unsexy by comparison, the wink doesn't even catch him off guard. It's just there, so easy, so unintrusive, it could mean anything, nothing and everything in one happy mix, maybe even at once. He smiles, holding the man's gaze for a moment, before he eventually has to glance towards the stage where Yvette is sitting, quietly, noting how she's making ready to get off the bench any moment now, the way the muscles in her upper arms shift.
Okay, he'll have to remember that five minutes are a very short time when in good company. Then, he turns his head back towards the stranger. The man with the nice hair and the even nicer eyes. Who takes a tease, and doesn't run with it, but dives, goes deep. ]
You look a great many things.
[ His voice is soft as he speaks, so soft it almost drowns out as the bell chimes, times the first. Looking over his shoulder, catching sight of Caspar across the stage, picking up the prop dress that they're going to exchange in a moment, Claude very decisively sticks out his right hand for a shake, the proper, neutral, unassuming way of greeting someone, of letting them understand you want to know them better. ]
I'm Claude. Bérubé. I have to go in a second, but I wanted you to know, it's been a pleasure.
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[ It comes out very earnestly, while also still keeping the balance of flirtatiousness, just a little bit impish, not too serious, you know, just true. Very true. Claude isn't worried. These guys have never let them down, everyone knows they're the best at what they do, that's why the Opéra bothers hiring them for the big jobs in the first place, to get that kind of quality control where it'll matter the most.
And although it disturbs his train of thought, very work-centered, very unsexy by comparison, the wink doesn't even catch him off guard. It's just there, so easy, so unintrusive, it could mean anything, nothing and everything in one happy mix, maybe even at once. He smiles, holding the man's gaze for a moment, before he eventually has to glance towards the stage where Yvette is sitting, quietly, noting how she's making ready to get off the bench any moment now, the way the muscles in her upper arms shift.
Okay, he'll have to remember that five minutes are a very short time when in good company. Then, he turns his head back towards the stranger. The man with the nice hair and the even nicer eyes. Who takes a tease, and doesn't run with it, but dives, goes deep. ]
You look a great many things.
[ His voice is soft as he speaks, so soft it almost drowns out as the bell chimes, times the first. Looking over his shoulder, catching sight of Caspar across the stage, picking up the prop dress that they're going to exchange in a moment, Claude very decisively sticks out his right hand for a shake, the proper, neutral, unassuming way of greeting someone, of letting them understand you want to know them better. ]
I'm Claude. Bérubé. I have to go in a second, but I wanted you to know, it's been a pleasure.