Hello, Lover.

“Nikadros has invited us to the opening of his new restaurant. Chtapódi.” Auguste’s flat tone belies his interest. Laurent’s lip curls as he waits for his brother to inevitably continue. “Some fancy Akielon place on Mirabeau.”

Laurent sighs, adjusting his wrist upon his knee. Auguste is watching him, face partially illuminated by his phone screen. “How pedestrian.” Laurent’s boredom is authentic. 

“Will you go?” 

Laurent dislikes the way Auguste smiles at him. 

“When?” 

Silence. And then: “Tonight.”

“Auguste—”

“Damen will be there.” The words come in a rush. Auguste, apparently, has moved past his dramatic pauses. 

Laurent is careful, ascetic in his tone, his posture, every wisp of hair. “And you believe I care about Damianos of Akielos’ whereabouts tonight.”

“I know you do,” Auguste says, thumbs flying across his phone screen. 

Laurent heaves another sigh, uncrossing his legs and standing elegantly from Auguste’s deep-seated navy sofa. 

“We’re taking separate vehicles,” he states, straight-backed and collected as he leaves his brother in the living room.