#c.gabriel

Bhari had made good on his word by meeting up with Gabriel for drinks. Round after round, there was no telling why the other was being so generous in getting him zozzled, but the writer did not mind a bit. There was warmth in his smile-widened cheeks (almost entirely a result of the bottle of scotch they’d shared) and he was happy. 

“Excuse you!” Bhari exclaimed, feigning offense at the suggestion that he broaden his horizons beyond the Moulin. While it was true that he’d become a barfly at the fabled cabaret from his very first visit, he would not soon admit such a thing. Familiar territory would not be given up so easily; not when it was conveniently right down the street. “You’re the one that insisted we come here tonight.”

“What does Montparnasse have that Montmartre doesn’t?” 

She tried not to make a habit of smoking--- something about the image of a winged angel with a cloud of smoke around her head ruined the fantasy---but since she’d departed from Cirque Cassuli, and there was less need to keep her breathing tip-top, she decided they were a fine way to work off the nerves of a day. Having handsome men offer one certainly helped as well.

The little wings that typically adorned her back were traded for a long robe of blue silk, much darker than anything she sported on the stage. 

“Monsieur de Silva,” the name slipped from her lips, sweeter than honey. “You know there’s no need to bribe me for my company. We are past that point, non?” She fixes herself with one of his cigarettes between her painted lips, of which she aimed to the critic. “Be a darling and light me, mon sucre.”  

“Coño carajo.”

The squish of his shoes played a double-time rhythm against the sidewalk as Arturo ran to the Cinema du Pantheon to escape the afternoon downpour, uttering swears the entire way. Once free from the rain, he pat at the lapels of his jacket and dug through his pockets to see if the worst had not happened. Alas, the final cigarette he had foolishly tucked away without a case had been a casualty of bad weather. 

"Joder esta vida y la siguiente...”

Arturo turned to face the street, but realized he was not alone beneath the cinema’s facade. Through the stained glass doors of the theatre, he could see the many guests of some type of event going on inside; and he could only assume that man beside him had taken a moment to escape. What he would have given to feel the need to escape an event again... It wasn’t often that the old maestro was invited to the types of parties he would frequent back when he was somebody. 

He turned to the man, soggy cigarette in hand as evidence to help his desperate case. Arturo was about to ask if the man had another, but was then caught by the familiarity of the other’s face.

“Ah. I know you. You are the one from the papers, oui? The one with the sharp pen.” 

     Bhari would stand for the chill of a cold shoulder no longer. While he could understand Gabriel’s reasoning, there was nothing that Bhari wanted more than to have his best friend back. Upon finding the critic tucked away in a shady corner of La Closerie’s terrace, almost obscured by a potted plant, he saw it as an opportune moment to slip away from the small crowd he was with. 

     “Very clever,” he said once close enough to catch the other’s attention. “It’s no easy feat finding places to hide in a city as small as this.” Unsure if he should sit or not, he decided upon standing awkwardly, tilting the glass back and forth in his hand.

Drunken Confession Meme ❈ accepting.

Lusine adored the way she’d been able to unravel the critic’s emotional bindings, if only in a small way. She took pride in the fact that Gabriel seemed comfortable enough to speak with such candor while in her presence; passing secrets back and forth like little treasures for the other to keep safe. Whatever one would call the little relationship they’d sparked up, it felt precious.

“You will have to be more specific, I have had many.” 

“The very first, I don’t count. It wasn’t special. It was,” she paused to sigh before continuing, “harsh, forceful. It hardly felt like anything at all at the time.” That kiss was not paid for, but it may as well have been with the way she was held like a tool rather than a warm body with feeling and emotion. And while the memory was dismal, she spoke of it with a casualty that was attained after years of forcing herself not to feel when remembering it. 

“The first kiss I ever felt kindness from was given to me by my best friend, Adele. It wasn’t of the romantic sort, but it is the best I’ve ever had. We were young, and so mischievous.” Lusine’s words broke off as she existed in the thought, a mere hint of a laugh hung from her painted lips. “As girls we used to sneak into the Palais Garnier together, though we were almost caught the first time we tried– We were forced to run from the guards, which was terrifying but we laughed the entire time. Along the way we managed to finagle a bottle of champagne, and we were so happy once we managed to lose them that she took my face in her hands and kissed me.” Lusine sighed happily. “We thought for sure we would be caught.” 

“The first romantic kiss was with my late husband, Gerard. He had the most magnificent lips.” That kiss had always been held in high regards by Lusine, who thought of it as one of her best; but while it was romantic for her, at the time, she never knew if Gerard had felt the same. She was always too afraid to ask. Her light eyes turned away from Gabriel as she spoke to look out of the window. “I miss him so.” 

A moment passed, she took a drag from her cigarette, then Lusine turned her attention back to Gabriel. “Do you remember your first kiss?”