James
Kersen was... nervous, which he knew was completely silly. But it had been such a long time since he'd been on a date like this. Even though he and Klaus had gone on dates, it was after they'd already slept together.
He took a lot of care with his appearance. Dressed as a boy, but with his typical androgynous flair. Some makeup, mostly his eyes, and a pair of trousers that he knew made his ass look amazing. Also the cashmere scarf that James had admired.
James had offered to come to his house, so when the doorbell rang he managed to clamp down the butterflies, and answered the door, a smile already on his face.
He took a lot of care with his appearance. Dressed as a boy, but with his typical androgynous flair. Some makeup, mostly his eyes, and a pair of trousers that he knew made his ass look amazing. Also the cashmere scarf that James had admired.
James had offered to come to his house, so when the doorbell rang he managed to clamp down the butterflies, and answered the door, a smile already on his face.
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He had - admittedly - spent quite some time thinking about Kersen and about what tonight meant. In the end he decided to let it all run its course. He liked the man, certainly, but he did not know what it meant to be involved with the supernatural.
He smiled when the door opened to reveal a radiant Kersen. "Good evening. You look...radiant," he complimented.
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"Well, you look quite beautiful," James admitted, feeling somewhat at ease. Perhaps Kersen's good mood rubbed off. "Yes, we shall," he agreed and walked them both to the taxi that was already waiting for them.
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"A private winetasting in an estate jyst outside of town," James replied. "If we are only having wine, we might as well have good wine."
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James smiled a thin smile. "As am I," he assured. "I trust you've been alright these past weeks?"
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Part of him had been surprised not to hear from Klaus. He'd thought he might at least... call to apologize. The fact that he didn't just made Kersen more sure that he'd been right, that it was all an act. And for a few days, this had made him feel even worse. And he might have wallowed a bit longer if it weren't for James, but hearing from him to set up a date had been a reminder that what had happened was on Klaus. And that though Kersen might have been stupid, it didn't mean that he was undesirable.
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James was assured that this was not a rebound situation, but he thought taking things slow was a right way about it. First and foremost for his own sanity; he hadn't done anything of this kind since the thirties. It was for that reason, though, that he didn't pry about the details of this relationship he was apparently over. "That's good. It never pays to mull over lost..." Loves? "Affairs."
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And he definitely didn't add that the other thing that helped him feel better was Hex fucking him into oblivion.
"Can you tell me something about how you've been?" he asked.
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"Oh, I've had some interesting paintings cross my path," James said, carefully. He did not mention where they came from, who brought them over, and for how much money he auctioned them at the black market. "I was fortunate enough to be allowed a few days with them to study them before they were sold into a private collection."
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James didn't require additional incentive to begin talking about the two paintings and - without mentioning the artist - delved into his research and the analysis that he had been able to make.
By the time he was done, the cab had arrived to their destination. "I'm afraid you'll have to stop me if I bore you," he warned. "I can get carried away."
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"I will," Kersen promised him, before climbing out, "but you won't."
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James smiled. He paid the cabbie, then got out of the car, and opened Kersen's door too, offering a hand to help him out. "We're just in time," he said, pleased about their timeless.
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"Good," James said and he did even offer his arm as they walked up to the house. "I don't know the host intimately," he explained. "She's a friend of an acquaintance. But we have met on a few occasions and she knows her wines, that is certain."
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James was reserved, but not ashamed. He had never dated a man simply because he had stopped dating in the forties. Kersen was an exception, who knew about James' condition and therefore understood more about James than the average person.
When they walked up to the house, James let go of Kersen and rang the door. A butler opened for them and showed them in, after some brief introduction.
It was a private setting, but not a small group. In the library where they were lead, some twenty-odd other guests were getting acquainted. "You will be asked to thenect room in fifteen minutes. The hostess will be here shortly."
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"As long as the wine is good," James said. "Money and taste don't always mix."
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"Vaguely," James said.
"Mr. Pritchard!" Someone then said. "Oh, how nice to see you again. Do you remember me? Jane Wel-"
"Welton, yes I remember. You bought the Connor apples."
"Beautiful. Perfect for the hallway." She eyed Kersen curiously as she spoke.
"The hallway. Of course." James could hardly keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
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"Yes," Came Jane's enthusiastic reply, at the same time James invisibly sighed. The hallway was not a place for that painting at all. Might as well hang a Picasso in the bathroom.
"Have you ever been to his gallery? It's quite a treat, isn't it?"
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