Armand has enough money that he can get anything he needs to be customized without people asking many questions, but it is still somewhat awkward at times; when it involves his coffin, that is one such case. He can smell in the air now what is so special about Ganymede's cigarettes, the mixture of its components, and he smiles. Oh, that's good.
"My life span is, but a drop in the ocean compared to yours, but I see your point." They're both too old for judgment and wasting time on petty resentments or accusations.
Armand leans into the brush against his jaw, always hungry for even the smallest touch when it's sincere. Ganymede is often a light in the darkness, a miracle in itself that it had not diminished in brightness or snuffed out during all those years, and Armand wants to help keep him that way. Another reason why he's so determined to get his hands on the man's painting.
"You would be surprised how many centuries-old men I had to deal with that behaved like children. Maturity is certainly not a matter of age. It's why it's so refreshing to be with you. Also why I am sure you'd hate Lestat."
Enough of delayed gratification, Armand brings his cigs to his lips, then tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, eyes closed as he listens to this friend. When he looks at Ganymede again, his smile is as honest as it gets.
"Two old men on a free evening, yes. I have a surprise for you too, but that will have to wait until later." And before Ganymede even thinks to ask what it could be, Armand brushes their free hands together and gives them a squeeze. "I'll go get your drink." Don't let the admirers distract you too much."
And with that, Armand grins and leaves. There are people already glancing at them from time to time; Ganymede's a very handsome man, after all, and Armand can read minds. He knows these things are inevitable.
no subject
"My life span is, but a drop in the ocean compared to yours, but I see your point." They're both too old for judgment and wasting time on petty resentments or accusations.
Armand leans into the brush against his jaw, always hungry for even the smallest touch when it's sincere. Ganymede is often a light in the darkness, a miracle in itself that it had not diminished in brightness or snuffed out during all those years, and Armand wants to help keep him that way. Another reason why he's so determined to get his hands on the man's painting.
"You would be surprised how many centuries-old men I had to deal with that behaved like children. Maturity is certainly not a matter of age. It's why it's so refreshing to be with you. Also why I am sure you'd hate Lestat."
Enough of delayed gratification, Armand brings his cigs to his lips, then tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, eyes closed as he listens to this friend. When he looks at Ganymede again, his smile is as honest as it gets.
"Two old men on a free evening, yes. I have a surprise for you too, but that will have to wait until later." And before Ganymede even thinks to ask what it could be, Armand brushes their free hands together and gives them a squeeze. "I'll go get your drink." Don't let the admirers distract you too much."
And with that, Armand grins and leaves. There are people already glancing at them from time to time; Ganymede's a very handsome man, after all, and Armand can read minds. He knows these things are inevitable.