[ He takes his cup and tags along, because that's apparently what he does now. Keeps up with the Devil. A small pause as he thinks that one over before deciding it's actually quite apt. His father can call him good all he wants, but there is strong evidence to the contrary, isn't there? Life - as Michel would say.
Elio sips his macchiato and savors the taste of it, strong but creamy, almost Italian in quality, and glances sideways at the other man, frowning slightly. He doesn't know how to explain the discomfort he felt when Lucifer looked at him like that, it wasn't painful or anything, it was just a sense of being looked into without having invited being seen at all. Someone probing, non-sexually. Soul-probing. Finally, Elio shrugs and goes for the easiest metaphor he can think up, his tone casual, keeping it clean and desexualized. No undressing without permission, no analogies of the kind.
Being stared at was uncomfortable enough. ]
As if you were walking into my home without knocking.
[ The street's busy and so is the sidewalk, so at some point someone larger than Elio, and they go by the dozen, makes him sidestep into Lucifer's private sphere, their shoulders bumping - or at least attempting to, the height difference between them making it more of a shoulder to upper arm bump. Elio mutters a sorry and retreats as soon as there's a chance. ]
no subject
[ He takes his cup and tags along, because that's apparently what he does now. Keeps up with the Devil. A small pause as he thinks that one over before deciding it's actually quite apt. His father can call him good all he wants, but there is strong evidence to the contrary, isn't there? Life - as Michel would say.
Elio sips his macchiato and savors the taste of it, strong but creamy, almost Italian in quality, and glances sideways at the other man, frowning slightly. He doesn't know how to explain the discomfort he felt when Lucifer looked at him like that, it wasn't painful or anything, it was just a sense of being looked into without having invited being seen at all. Someone probing, non-sexually. Soul-probing. Finally, Elio shrugs and goes for the easiest metaphor he can think up, his tone casual, keeping it clean and desexualized. No undressing without permission, no analogies of the kind.
Being stared at was uncomfortable enough. ]
As if you were walking into my home without knocking.
[ The street's busy and so is the sidewalk, so at some point someone larger than Elio, and they go by the dozen, makes him sidestep into Lucifer's private sphere, their shoulders bumping - or at least attempting to, the height difference between them making it more of a shoulder to upper arm bump. Elio mutters a sorry and retreats as soon as there's a chance. ]