JULIAN CONNOR

JULIAN CONNOR now has 97 points

“Sad champagne it is,” Julian said, flagging down a waiter to get two glasses of champagne. He placed them both on the wooden bench, and sat beside Milo, putting his arm around the other in an attempt to bring some sort of physical comfort to him. Milo looked sad, and though he knew that wasn’t something he could likely fix now, he wanted to be there for him. “What happened?” he asked him, quietly, softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“That’s me,” he confirmed, smiling at the fact that the other seemed to remember him. “Antony it is, then. We’re midway into Trinity term, so I’ve got plenty of things to submit. I’m holing up here for easy access to my professors and so that there’s fewer distractions. It’s good to run into you.” Julian said, and while the pile of books that were in his arms revealed that he had much to do, he deserved a break from revising, and he was always eager to help a member of the Society out. “I can walk you to your destination. I was just heading out myself to go back to London. What’s the place called?” 

A small smile curled his lips at the flattery; Julian certainly wouldn’t reject it. “Who’s to say I don’t drape myself in diamonds and money in my free time?” he said, another chuckle leaving his lips, but he shook his head. “That’s sweet of you to say. I’ve always been ambitious, I suppose. I can’t sit around and do nothing. There’s too much that’s wrong with the world and not enough time to fix it all with my own hands.” Julian took every failure to heart; every failed case, every life lost. Ambition overflowed, and sometimes he tended to forget that he was human, that he was just as helpless as everybody else. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Napoleone is very generous. He’s a kind soul, a man for the people. I happen to be a special case,” he said, his grin cutting sharply. “I would tell you more, but I think I’ll have to go backstage soon for the bidding; it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn to live with the parrot,” Julian said, stifling his laughter and patting Milo’s back. Soon enough Milo had to leave, and Julian was left to mingle with others. At some point during the party, though, he noticed Milo talking to a man — a man that he couldn’t have missed, the famed editor of Paris Vogue. His fiancé. Once they finished speaking, and Milo departed, Julian came over to him, reaching for his hand. “Well, how did it go? Do we get a happy champagne or a sad champagne?”

Julian raised an eyebrow as the other talked about the artist, beginning to suspect that there was something rather unspoken there. A smile curled his lips. “She sounds charming. Could you introduce us, do you think?” At the next few questions, he hummed and tilted his head. “I don’t work for one particular organization, but I have worked with Amnesty International, yes. They’re definitely good people. Right now I’m working on the refugee crisis in Europe. It’s a terrible issue; I wish I could do so much more than what I can right now.” Julian dedicated almost all hours to work. “Even now I’m struggling to justify the time I’m spending away from work for this trip to Paris. I know, though, that NGOs are always in need of financial help, and I know my husband will direct his bids to my charities of choice. I wouldn’t mind whoever bids on me — the more money that goes to charity, the better. My husband can get quite jealous, though — I doubt he’d let anybody else win.” 

Julian couldn’t keep the amusement off his face, but he gave him another reassuring squeeze while he tried to figure out best how to approach the topic. “I can’t claim to be any particular expert at marriage, but... I had much the same fear with my husband. But he’s always been supportive of my ambitions, and I of his.You’re a famous as hell model, Baptiste. You’re constantly topping lists, and you’ve still got a long way to go ahead of you. So that’s not the only outcome that’s possible. He might grow to love you with every inch of his soul, who’s to say? If it doesn’t work out, if that happens — then who’s anyone else to tell you what to do? Divorce him and make his life hell; find true love, or whatever. What are you looking for in a marriage, anyway?”

“He sounds straight out of The Devil Wears Prada,” Julian laughed, though he gave Milo’s arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He looked at the photograph assessingly, humming to himself. “Well, he’s not bad looking. Not at all. He’s got a certain type of handomeness about him.” Julian lifted a doubtful eyebrow at the next sentence. “A match, that you didn’t make for yourself, that will end in marriage. Sounds like an arranged marriage to me. But you can call it what you want. I hope he turns out to be a good guy. If he does anything to hurt you, I will personally hunt him down, trust me on this. Introduce us after you meet, hm?”

Julian laughed at the other’s words, amused by Milo’s antics. “Very sexy indeed.” He lifted an eyebrow at the other’s enumeration of handsome people in the society, and grinned especially at the mention of himself. “You know what I like to hear.” Though the monologue was punctuated with a more serious thought, one that actually brought concern to Julian, with the way it was phrased. Once he parsed through it, he blinked. “Milo, are you being put into an arranged marriage? With whom? Are they nice? Do you know them? Are they at least gorgeous?”

“That sounds like a compliment,” Julian said, soft laughter spilling from softer lips. “No, you’re right, there’s no missing it. You and your sister have an... interesting relationship. Sometimes, I wish I had siblings — you make me feel lucky I don’t have one,” he teased, a sharp grin now cutting through previously gentle features. He followed the direction of his gesture, his gaze lingering for some moments on the painting. “Oh, the Van Renesslaer. Truly one of the best artists of our time, I wouldn’t blame you. Why not both?” At the question of his own choice, he laughed. “I’ve just been told off about not speaking about my own lack of wealth, but I’m a Human Rights Lawyer — I don’t have much money to spend on things like these. I give back in my own way. And I’m on auction, so hopefully I’ll be able to contribute something for tonight still.“

The wonderful thing about having a member as a husband was that he’d been introduced to most members already. Jude Fitzgerald being one of them. And how elegantly they stood in the middle of the Louvre, Julian spotting them in the crowd from a distance. “Jude,” he greeted, an effervescent smile cutting through his expression. “It’s good to see you here. Have any of the pieces caught your eye?”

There was something about the Henry Darger that just drew Julian in — he couldn’t help but walk towards it time and time again, finding a new detail with each new inspection. It was striking, and hopefully after tonight, it would be his. Care of his husband, of course. He looked to the man beside him, vaguely recognising the figure. “You’re an initiate, aren’t you? I’ve been seeing your face a lot in the chat,” Julian said, flashing a pleasant smile, eager to meet other people in the same process. “Julian Connor. Do you have eyes on any of the pieces tonight?”

Of course Julian had accepted the request from the Society — it might hurt his standing, after all, if he had declined. Regardless, he loved being the center of attention, and any occasion to dress up to the nines was a welcome one. The Louvre was always a delight, too, and so with a pleasant mood he inspected the lots up for auction, curiously examining each one with an exacting eye. Beside him was his husband, from whom he would have to part ways at some point in the evening to be sold for auction himself, but for now who had him all to himself. “The Henry Darger would look fantastic in the London flat, don’t you think, darling?”