10-05-2014, 07:58 PM
There was a moment when the faraway look of escape crossed Calvin's expression that Jensen thought he'd leave. He'd not have stopped him if the man left. Jensen knew all too well what it was like to live with demons dragging your ankle, figuratively and literally.
As it was, he unzipped the top of his jacket for some fresh air around his throat and led the other man upstairs. He was thankful the elevator bypassed the front lobby. Ever since he brought Aria, Connor and Giovanni home, the door man didn't trust him as it was despite nothing unpleasant having actually passed between them. Then again, the filth-soaked foursome must not have inspired much confidence.
The loft was as he'd left it earlier that evening. The place was tidy, having been cared for by Jensen's meticulous touch. Otherwise, it was unaltered from when Doulou left it in Jensen's care.
"Make yourself comfortable."
He gestured at chairs and table. Otherwise there were some seats arranged along the kitchen island. For himself, Jensen dropped his bike coat across the back of a chair. He was wearing a black body-fitting shirt beneath. Without the jacket, the matching bikepants seemed bulky, but it was probably not appropriate to drop trow before lemonade.
"This here's my aunt's lemonade recipe, even a Yank will love it."
He passed him a glass and made sure to pour one for himself.
As it was, he unzipped the top of his jacket for some fresh air around his throat and led the other man upstairs. He was thankful the elevator bypassed the front lobby. Ever since he brought Aria, Connor and Giovanni home, the door man didn't trust him as it was despite nothing unpleasant having actually passed between them. Then again, the filth-soaked foursome must not have inspired much confidence.
The loft was as he'd left it earlier that evening. The place was tidy, having been cared for by Jensen's meticulous touch. Otherwise, it was unaltered from when Doulou left it in Jensen's care.
"Make yourself comfortable."
He gestured at chairs and table. Otherwise there were some seats arranged along the kitchen island. For himself, Jensen dropped his bike coat across the back of a chair. He was wearing a black body-fitting shirt beneath. Without the jacket, the matching bikepants seemed bulky, but it was probably not appropriate to drop trow before lemonade.
"This here's my aunt's lemonade recipe, even a Yank will love it."
He passed him a glass and made sure to pour one for himself.