@mcnymuse
A champagne coloured night, soft lighting caressing the scene of bodies packed around- shrill voices, and glasses clink with each new bit of chatter. Stands amongst it all a blonde, his charcoal suit well-fitted, almost enough to make him blend with the flock that surrounds him. But there’s something unkempt about him, something that stains the man with a youthful recklessness, perhaps the way his hair drapes a little too long over his face. Or perhaps it’s the way he offers a bright grin to the woman standing beside him, as she fills the silence between them with polite conversation.
Less than a week in the town, and Amos had already grown bored of ‘lying low’ in his apartment, staying out of the limelight. But wasn’t that what he wanted?
He lets her talk, drowning out the sound of the dull music that fills the night, and his eyes skirt the room, taking in the sight of the small town socialites. The flock of those, speckled suits, contrasting colours, drunk on the night’s champagne and gossip. But there’s one amongst them all, something so strikingly familiar to the man. A distant memory, foggy with age floods back as Amos places a hand on his company’s shoulder. “Would you excuse me, darling?”
Amos doesn’t wait for an answer, before he picks up two glasses from a near by server’s tray, holding in one hand he approached the other from behind. A sharpness in him that’s still there after all these years, a daring hunger dancing in his eyes as he places a hand on Francis’ shoulder, interrupting the conversation he’s mid. “Francis, I hope you don’t mind. Julia over there was telling me so much of you.” A lie, of course, but one that teases his tongue with his grin as he offers one of the glasses in his hands. Just how much had he changed? “Amos, it’s a pleasure.”