maskormenacelogs | she got the current in her hand

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she got the current in her hand

WHO: Dorian Gray & Yuri Petrov
WHERE: Some unbearably hipster Heropa restaurant.
WHEN: Sunday afternoon
WHAT: Dorian finds Yuri utterly interesting. Yuri's still staking out Dorian for his sinner nature. ~~They go on a date~~ no, they just have lunch together.
WARNINGS: Probably none, will edit.

By this point, Dorian and Shade had already robbed one of their banks in their bank-robbing spree. And considering that they hadn't been caught (yet, just wait until Wednesday, buddy)...Dorian was riding high, his pride surging to obscene levels. So, it was during a dull Sunday afternoon that Dorian shot Yuri a text: On for lunch today? My treat. :)

One text conversation later and Dorian was sitting outside of some ridiculous Heropa restaurant that was obviously trying hard to attract a certain type of customer, what with their free-range eggs, Mason jar glassware and Thai peanut and orange salad, made by a white twenty-something with tattoos and gauges. Still, they were open on Sundays, were relatively cheap and (most importantly) had an outdoor seating area. Dorian had a penchant for eating outdoors, mostly because it was easier to be seen in them. People walking past the restaurant to other buildings, people lingering in front of the restaurant and debating whether or not to go in, people waiting for their friends outside, all of them saw you if you were eating outside. And being seen and noticed was one of Dorian's (many) vices.

Dorian was looking good, wearing a black and white striped shirt and tight black jeans, with black loafers. A pair of aviator sunglasses were perched on his head, though Dorian was seriously considering putting them on because wow was it bright. As he spotted Yuri approaching, Dorian couldn't help but grin, lazily waving a hand in the air to signal where he was sitting.

"Glad you could make it."

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The most noticeable (and arguably intolerable) difference between Sternbild and Heropa was the heat. Yuri was used to long days spent in full suit, his collar buttoned, his tie tight, but Florida's summer was growing increasingly warmer by the day and that did not afford him the conservative dress he was accustomed to. He approached Dorian, his choice of attire for the day a loosened grape colored paisley necktie; a lilac dress shirt, collar unbuttoned; charcoal pinstripe trousers (matching jacket looped over one arm); and designer square-toed Italian leather dress shoes.

He returned Dorian's wave before draping his jacket over the back of his chair and seating himself.

"I hope you did not think I would stand you up," said Yuri, showing a measure of care for himself as he straightened his naturally wavy hair, today bound with a simple band as opposed to a ribbon, held up a little higher off his neck to allow for better flow of air against his skin. He straightened his rolled up sleeves afterwards, taking care that wrinkles had not settled into the fabric of his shirt. "I assure you, I would not be so rude. If there had been even a remote chance that I would be unable to meet you today, I would have told you earlier."

The text had come as a bit of a surprise, but only just a bit. After all, Yuri had expected Dorian to be the one to make the first move. He was needy that way, desiring the attention of others, and today was no exception to the profile. In fact, Yuri would wager that being seated outside was a part of the other man's design, too. What better way to be gawked at? And people were indeed gawking, though Yuri couldn't necessarily blame them. Seated across from one another, he and Dorian Gray must have looked as different and alluring as night and day.

"Anyway, thank you for the invitation. Is...this a place you frequent?" It was by no means an eatery Yuri would pick had it been up to him, but it would suffice. It was quirky, but clean.

As Yuri approached, Dorian couldn't help but give him an appreciative smile. While the purple was a bit too much for Dorian's tastes, the man knew how to work it. The shoes, of course, were spectacular. This was all the better. Two men, dressed to the nines with radically different styles, sitting across from each other. Yes, this would attract plenty of attention--exactly what he wanted.

"I had faith in you coming," he teased, smile still on his face as he watched Yuri sit down. Because he had to. Dorian believed that he himself was interesting, charismatic, and the sort of person you knew you wanted to be with. Of course Yuri would accept the invitation if it meant dining with him.

At the question, however, Dorian shook his head, reclining back in his chair, hands dangling in midair, pointed towards the ground. "Nah. I've only been here once or twice. The crowd's a bit too uni for my taste, but it's quiet on the weekends." Indeed, the place did seem like the sort of restaurant that university students would work at or frequent. Considering that Dorian looked mid-twenties at the oldest, it was utterly explainable why the draw of university students might be a mar: a bunch of confused little twentysomethings, desperate to find their place in the world. Not his scene. Still, leave it to Dorian to talk about the restaurant's clientele before anything else. "The salads are great, though. Not much of a salad guy myself, but I got one and it was near divine."

"Is that a polite way of telling me that you think I am predictable, Dorian?" In some ways, Yuri could be. For example: when the waiter made his way back toward them, Yuri ordered tea; he hardly ever sat down to a meal without enjoying one variant or the other, preferring the way it warmed him from within to the way alcohol could be said to (even in the dead of summer). However, there were many ways in which Yuri was not predictable, ways that lurked beneath his meticulously maintained public face. They were ways that had defined the purpose behind their first encounter, and they were ways that defined the reasons behind his agreeing to meet with Dorian again. "I shall have a job ahead of me if I hope to keep you on your toes, if that is the case."

With a smile, he settled against the back of his chair and took a moment to properly survey their surroundings. For the most part, Yuri did not look like a man approaching his forties, but some days he certainly felt it. This particular restaurant catered to a generation that consisted of some who were young enough to be his children. There was no escaping the reminder that he was not quite as young as he used to be.

It was a reminder that might trouble some, but not Yuri. Each passing year was not so much a mark of his growing older as it was a clear record with which to refer back to, a record of those who had been punished and those who had yet to be. It gave him purpose. It made him feel the closest thing to alive he could feel.

"Salad sounds delectable right now. With tea, I would be too hot for anything else. Do you recommend anything?" he asked Dorian, taking a moment to leaf through the menu though he couldn't actually be said to be reading it. His eyes were upon the man across from him.

"Don't be so broken up about it," Dorian responded, with a teasing grin. "Most people are predictable." Most. Not all. And it's the few people that aren't predictable that made life so much more interesting, at least for Dorian. As the waiter approached, he ordered ice water for himself. Normally, Dorian would make a beeline for anything alcoholic but a: it was Sunday, b: it was the early afternoon, and c: he had no idea what Florida's blue laws were (but oh how he had grown to hate this American concept of blue laws.)

Dorian too had realized that Yuri looked a bit older than this place's typical demographic. However, it wasn't exactly something that hit him until now. Everybody was younger than him. For Dorian, it was just a matter of looks and standing out in the right sort of way. Which here? He did wonderfully at. Other places...not so much.

As for the menu, he gave Yuri a sheepish smile. "Not exactly. Like I said, I've only been here once or twice. The Asian noodle salad was sublime--so I can recommend that, but not much else." Picking up the menu in front of him, he also started to casually leaf through it, equally keeping an eye on Yuri. After all, he had a feeling they both knew that they weren't here entirely for the food. If he picked something terrible, he would just get something better later.

"I will try my best," Yuri replied, placing his hand over his heart in jest, "but I make no promises. And if I should fail, I hope you will find it within you to forgive me."

Undoubtedly, a certain level of predictability on both their parts had brought them together again today. Yuri was not about to dispute the fact. Predictability would also play a part in the outcome of their future, at least to some degree. The fabric of tomorrow was not yet woven into any wholly discernible pattern. Time -- only time would bring it all together in the end. All truths revealed themselves with time, and the true nature of Dorian Gray would be no exception to the rule. Yuri needed only to be patient and to be ready for when that time came.

And what better place to be ready than across the table from the man himself, where he might be privy to any secrets shared, intentionally or accidentally?

He glanced down at his menu briefly, the salad options listed before him. After skimming the description of the Asian Noodle salad, he nodded approvingly and lifted his chin, all eyes on Dorian once more. Absorbing about the man all he could, all that was offered and all that he might read between the lines.

"That sounds delectable. I'll have that, then." For all that he was haughty, Dorian had fine taste it seemed.

The fact that Yuri picked what he had suggested only made Dorian like him more. After all, if he picked that suggestion then that meant that he either had good taste, or thought that Dorian had good taste--and really, either option was preferable to Dorian himself. "I think I'll have this Strawberry Chicken salad, myself. It sounds refreshing."

And heaven only knows that refreshing was needed on this ridiculously hot summer day.

"It does," Yuri agreed, though the Asian Noodle salad promised something a little more tangy which would contrast the heavily sweetened way he took his tea, and that was preferable to him.

He closed his menu and set it at the edge of the table. The waiter had returned by that time with their drinks; an ice water for Dorian, and for Yuri, rose hip tea with honey. Yuri placed his order, then looked to the other man for him to do the same. When the waiter had written down everything, he collected their menus with a smile and promised to return shortly. They were left alone after that. Or...as alone as they could be on an outdoor patio, the subject of so many stares.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Dorian. Did you ever finish the paperwork you started in the park?"

As the drinks came, Dorian placed his order, right after Yuri did. He took a sip of his water, enjoying the icy coolness of the drink as it slid down his throat. Oh yes. This hit the spot. He set the drink back down and looked over at Yuri.

At the mention of paperwork, Dorian couldn't help but laugh. "Eventually. I'm honestly thinking of quitting the job and looking for something better, though." He wasn't happy there. And what mattered (at least for Dorian) was that he was happy. Well, happy and making money. Okay, happy, making money, and something that didn't give him much to do. Those were hardly unreasonable expectations, right?

"I'm simply not cut out for guidance."

"I cannot say I am surprised. When last I heard, you seemed rather dissatisfied with your profession," Yuri remarked. A sip of his tea was taken before he added with a curious inflection, "And have you given any thought to what you might pursue in the future? A man with your qualifications would undoubtedly have a range of jobs to choose from."

Which wasn't untrue. A banker, if he were any good at his job, would have many transferable skills to offer other employers, and those aside, Dorian had a silver tongue. Yuri wouldn't have been surprised if the other imPort could talk his way through an interview and into a high paying job in the time it took most people to stop sweating indignantly in their seats.

Dorian was enjoying the hell out of this. He realized that Yuri was buttering him up and he loved it. To what end? He didn't really know and he didn't really care. Whatever Yuri's reasons were, they probably didn't affect him. He was going to take any affection and attention vaguely thrown his way and revel in it.

"I'm not sure yet," he remarked, with a frown. "Part of me was thinking I'd go back into banking, but now I'm not so sure that's a good idea." Especially since, you know, he was planning on robbing some.

"Why wouldn't it be a good idea?" asked Yuri. He might not have been so curious about the matter if Dorian had said it didn't interest him anymore, but the words he had chosen instead implied that something else was going on. It could have been any number of things, from those that were personal to those that were professional, but Yuri wanted to hear it from Dorian's own mouth.

"Well, I was a banker back home," Dorian replied, with a little shrug. The lies slipped effortlessly off his tongue, as Dorian's tone remained a carefully crafted nonchalant. "I'm in a brave new world with nothing but opportunities. Why do the same thing that I did back home when there's so much more out there?" The problem then was, Dorian didn't know what the so much more was. He needed to get some ideas before he managed to decide on what job he should attempt.

Edited 2014-09-09 02:56 (UTC)

"Then, you are seeking adventure, Dorian?" There was an upward quirk to the corner of Yuri's mouth as he observed the other man from across the table. "You must have some idea of what it is you would like to do, in that case. One doesn't simply decide to take a step away from the familiar without first considering which direction he may go. Something has to have captured your interest. What is it?"

Dorian paused for a moment, frown on his face, as he thought. He had a lot of different options, really. The only question now, is which to choose. "I tried painting one time. I suppose I could try to take up as an artist again." Which is one hypothetical out of many. He took a sip of his drink, frowning slightly. Most of his life he had been content living off his money--the concept of "having a job" was something relatively new to Dorian. "I could work in museums. I'd be good at that sort of thing."

Yuri was still listening intently as their salads were brought to them. Yuri's, suggested by Dorian, looked as delicious as it had sounded, but he was far more interested in the topic at hand. Small talk he was terrible at, but this...this wasn't small talk at all. There was something inherently likable about the other man, something that lurked beneath a many-tiered holier-than-thou attitude. Maybe it was that they had something in common besides a remarkable taste in fashion, though Yuri was more inclined to believe his tolerance of this stranger (and remote enjoyment of his company, which fluctuated unpredictably between being both an amusing and revolting presence, at that) was born from a certain sense of freedom that surrounded Dorian himself. It was not something with which Yuri was expressly familiar.

"I'm partial to museums." He picked up his fork and poked at the colorful concoction on his plate. "What would you do, precisely? You are a bit too lively to be an exhibit, and I do not imagine you are capable of holding still for very long, besides."

As the salad arrived, Dorian picked up his fork as well. However, the salad lay still for now, as he used the fork as a gesturing tool instead, pointing it at Yuri, grin on his face.

"I can stay perfectly still when I want to." He smirked, laying the fork down a bit. "I think I'd be a curator, though. I've always had an eye for design. And I know enough about art history to make sure that I'd do things right."

That last statement was accompanied with the small little smirk of someone who's saying an inside joke.

The judge frowned disapprovingly at Dorian's use of the silverware, but said nothing as the fork was soon lowered. Needless to say, it was a rather pointed reminder of certain behaviors exhibited by Dorian that Yuri disliked immensely.

"I will believe that," Yuri replied dryly, "when I see it."

After a sip of tea, he seemed to relax once more. A flicker of interest showed behind his eyes at the mention of curating. He could imagine Dorian carrying out the duties required of such a position within a museum, but he expected the book work would quickly bore someone with Dorian's short attention span.

Nevertheless, he said with a smile (unrelated to Dorian's joke, because such things were often over Yuri's head - though there was a moment where Yuri considered the wording and how it could pertain to restorative art and theft), "A man after my own talents. It must be by some greater design that we've become friends, then."

He could certainly carry out the duties of a curatior longer than he could the duties of a guidance counselor. But Yuri was right: eventually he would get bored. Book work wasn't the same as design, it wasn't the same as acquiring and displaying paintings, it wasn't the same as projecting his taste and his aesthetic over a blank gallery.

"Greater design or sheer coincidence," Dorian shrugged. He wasn't one to believe in 'greater design.' But if that was what Yuri believed in? He'd be tolerant about it. A little chiding and a little teasing, but overall, mostly tolerant. "I kind of like the idea of the greater design better. We were fated to meet."

The life of a curator was many parts social and many parts bookkeeping and long hours in studious solitude. It could be glamorous and fun, but there was a precision to the work that demanded a professionalism that Dorian...lacked for the most part, at least as far as Yuri was concerned. And over time, Yuri suspected that such restrictions on his time would be what bored the other man more than anything else. Dorian demonstrated a lot of free will. Copious amounts of it, actually. Yuri would be surprised to find the man confined to any one profession for a period of time due precisely to that...

It was as he said, he didn't think the other man was capable of sitting still at all.

What was not to be taken at face value was his comment about a greater design. That was purely for conversation's sake, though...maybe justice had a hand in it. Why else would Yuri find himself drawn to investigate more closely such an individual?

"It's poetic," he said, and he lifted his teacup as if to toast. "To fated friendship...and many onlookers. Perhaps we could go someplace more private next time?"

Dorian lifted up his glass of ice water as well. Poetic was certainly one way of putting it. And it was something he couldn't deny. It was poetic. Two similar men, meeting in seemingly random circumstances, who as it turns out were similar enough in manner and likes.

It's a pity that Yuri wasn't younger. Dorian was utterly vain, preferring to surround himself with interesting people and, if failing that, attractive people--all the better if they were both. Yuri was certainly interesting. But Dorian, ever acute to these things, could see the subtle signs of age creeping up on the man's face. A stray line here or there, a small wrinkle that only showed under the right light. Yuri was slowly inching towards old age, inching out of the narrow spectrum of youthful and beautiful.

Again, it was a pity. Dorian would gladly suggest more...intimate encounters, were the man younger. And who knows, depending on how the conversation went he might even suggest those again. Perhaps, for once in his life, the personality would win out over looks. .

..the mention of going someplace private only made Dorian stick further to his guns. Well, might as well test the waters, hmm? See just how Yuri would react. Push his buttons, as it were. "Someplace private, hmm? Well, my place or yours?" he asked, with a cheeky smile, as he took a drink of water.

The miracles of cosmetics. Yuri would probably look older were it not for a strict routine of carefully applied makeup every morning, not to mention good genetics...at least as far as appearances went. He considered himself lucky, to a point. There were, of course, times when he cursed the fact that he looked remotely like either one of his parents, but in this world the chances of recognition were so slim as to eliminate any concern.

Nevertheless, there was only so much those things could do. The rest he had to do for himself. Eat healthily, exercise daily, try to live as stress free a life as he could manage...

He did those things, although one could argue the the case of the latter. It was not, after all, stress free to go chasing criminals around the city, particularly if it meant breaking laws or putting oneself at risk of being caught by authorities. In fact, it was entirely stressful leading the kind of double life that he did, and yet...Yuri was incapable of living any other way.

So his answer came naturally to him when Dorian issued his cheeky question. Without batting so much as an eye, Yuri replied, "Yours."

Just the answer he wanted to hear. Dorian smirked at Yuri, a devilish smirk. He had a feeling that Yuri's ideas of getting to know each other better and something 'fun' were light years away from his own ideas...still, he couldn't help but entertain a thought or two about just what exactly he and Yuri could do.

"I'll make sure my flatmates are out for the day then." Going a bit bolder this time, he followed up that statement with a wink, a wink that hopefully told Yuri just what exactly he thought.

Yuri thought Dorian's smirk was one of questionable nature, but it was not one he hadn't been expecting, nor was the other man's followup statement. He returned, "I should hope so, Dorian, as that would wall within the confines of the definition of privacy."

The two of them. Alone. In Dorian's home.

Yuri expected he could navigate his way through whatever advances the other man might attempt (as well he should, for his experience in the matter as it went beyond words was strictly limited, one could say) he only hoped that he could draw out the experience long enough to glean something beneficial to his investigation from the home environment.

After a few bites of his salad and dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin, Yuri made eye contact with Dorian and asked, "Will we be making a day of it, then?" It would do well to know that Dorian had cleared his schedule. No one expecting him to leave, him not expecting anyone to arrive...that way, if anything did happen (and not the kind of happen Dorian was probably hoping for), Yuri would be able to take precautions. That was, of course, a tremendously big if; at the utmost, Yuri expected to be offered something alcoholic to drink and to be subjected to plenty of visual undressing. The latter of which he would return if it came to that, for he could be very good at providing looks that meant absolutely nothing, particularly those that feigned any kind of emotion, but beyond that...what would his excuse be?

He doubted Dorian would buy into Yuri saying he wouldn't sleep with Dorian so soon, not after insinuating they should find a more private place to entertain themselves, so...what were his options? He considered the benefit of an alarm, designed to sound like an important phone call that could draw him away if, by a certain time, he hadn't acquired any reliable information. Of course, that would rely entirely on Dorian being predictably forward, and he was not. But at the moment, Yuri could not think of a better alternative...

The more they were talking about this, the more Dorian grew to like it. He's had dalliances with certain people here already. But the idea of him and Yuri, by themselves, enjoying the moment, enjoying themselves in a richer setting, something more intimate than casual conversation over salads. Something closer.

His mind was already starting to drift towards idle daydreams, populated by just what exactly he wanted to do to Yuri and how wonderful it would be to have someone with a little bit of class to himself, even if only for an evening. Of course, Dio was great. He couldn't turn down the man if he tried. But there was something a little disheartening about the familiar. Exploring unbranched territories was always something Dorian prided himself on, why not keep it up here?

He's practically visually undressing Yuri over the dinner table, as he takes a bite of his salad, imagining the curves of the other man's body as he chews and swallows.

"Why not," he simply responded, with a grin. "Out and about in the morning, back home for the evening. I've got to say, that sounds very attractive."

Beneath the designer folds that concealed his body, Yuri sported a physique that—for a man his age, and in many cases, even for men half that—was surprisingly fit. In fact, it would not have been a stretch of the imagination to say that Yuri's body type mirrored his personality: it was, every inch of it, hard and unyielding, and in some places, a little too lacking in the softness that made being close to someone a comfort. In essence, he was attractive, but there was definitely something grave about the man underneath.

In public as they were, Dorian was denied the opportunity to see any of that, not that a man as skilled as Dorian was with visually undressing someone couldn't make educated guesses. In any case, Yuri's conservative style did not make it easy for anyone and left something to the imagination—his clothing was never too loose and never too tight, and it gave away very little before the other man's exploratory eyes. That was the way Yuri would have preferred it to stay, too. Unfortunately, when Dorian addressed his question, the answer Yuri received was...not what he expected.

He paused, his fork above his plate, a noodle wrapped around the prongs and partially dangling. Did Dorian think he meant to do this today? That wouldn't give him any time at all to plan, to prepare...!

"Just to be sure we are on the same page," he began, suddenly finding himself to be not very hungry and lowering his fork, "when precisely did you want to do this?"

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