is it too flashy?

a quiet multi-muse by ida / freddie.

Rydal Keener, before he becomes an accomplice to murder. (caps)

     Rydal doesn’t give any attention to his own drink but he keeps watching the treasure hunter with curiosity. It is surprising that he didn’t try to correct the accusation, but once he came up with one of his own it made more sense. He lowers his eyes but quickly regrets doing so and turns them away to look sideways instead. Finally the lack of clothes on the other is brought up and Rydal can’t stop himself from becoming a bit more flustered.  “That’s my bad, your landlady let me in.”  He bites his lip.  “How would I even know you weren’t dressed? ... About the story.”  He tries to change the subject.

Rydal looks to the glass of scotch and watches as it slides to the end of the table, stopping just in time. He shouldn’t take it because who knew what would happen if he did. Not that one glass hurt anybody ... “Good to know.”  He’s aware of the amusement that Alex seems to feel towards the situation.  “That’s great. So you’re the guy that goes to sacred places and steals forbidden objects?”  Maybe a little bold and not entirely true to his research on the guy, but he sticks with it. He also walks to the table and grabs the glass that was offered to him.

     This was getting to become more than Rydal could handle. He was tempted to take off his jacket and throw at the other man to cover him up. For a moment he shuts his eyes, then he looks back at Alex to make eyecontact.  “Sorry. Artifacts.”  He crosses his arms and does his best not to let his gaze wander again.  “I don’t kiss and tell.”  The phrase slips from his mouth before he stops himself.  “Does it matter? You’re Alex West, aren’t you?”

     Rydal breaks his gaze away from the ‘view’ and lets out a small, shy laugh. He fears that he may become too engaged in what his eyes hadn’t been able to look away from.  “A story on your treasure finds. A contact led me to you.”

          “Oh you think?”  Rydal was usually the one making people swoon around him, or trying to at least, so he wasn’t used to being approached in such a forward way. His eyes can’t help but lower little by little, the dampened naked skin of the other man being difficult to look away from. He speaks slowly as his mind as elsewhere.  “Well I think ... I’m just here for a story.”

     Eyes moved up to meet his.  “A nice view should be enjoyed, shouldn’t it?”  Albeit the assuredness, his cheeks revealed that he was a little flustered.