Dance Party

[Armande]

The distinctive...odor of the joint was not missed. Of course, he had tried it, at university. He glanced at Nik, half smile on his lips. It was a place to sample many things.

But just as the scotch neat was a sipping drink, Armande, in the main, eschewed anything that caused him to lose control. Still, he did not begrudge the use in others. Merely that, given the chaos of his childhood, he preferred to always be in the driver's seat.

Blue ice stared into hazel embers that seemed to flicker between green and gold and brown. Like a flame was burning various minerals, color shifting again and again and again. A kaleidoscope of hues he could get lost in.

And all he knew was her name.

His hand reached out to touch hers lightly, a simple shake. Warm.

To her question. "Nik and I were at Bologna together. University. We have stayed close ever since." He glanced at the other man, missing an arm. A nod in his direction. "I only met Nox this moment."

He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip, feeling the slow burn crawl down his throat. "Just as I have been priviledged to meet you." He smiled politely, his English tinged with his Scillian accent. "Obviously, you are American. But I detect a French influence. May I ask where you are from?"

Without moving, his blue eyes seemed to lean in.