au : dog eat dog :: smoke and secrets.
@iolondinium
Ah, the beautifully long, dark alleyways that drifted so carelessly past Jean-Thibault’s sight as he slunk along the murky crevices of the city, nearer and nearer to the centre until his clean-shaven form melted easily into the crowd.
It was mid-evening, when most of the rich society sashayed themselves off to dinner, or the pubs, or the theatre, or wherever their bulging wallets led them. In other words, a perfect opportunity for some business.
The first one to catch JT’s eye happened to be a tall, gaunt-looking fellow clad smartly and standing a small distance from the bustle and din of the raucous elite who queued at the theatre entrance with their shrill laughter and stuffy voices. The man leant against the corner of the adjacent building, in a slightly more quiet but not at all secluded area where a number of gentlemen kept company for a smoke. The hazy air wafted into the Frenchman’s senses, and he suddenly had the urge to pull out a cigarette of his own.
JT’s slicked-back hair and formal clothing belied his business while effectively demonstrating just how much he could afford to blend with the upper-class. His business, unlike all the bourgeoisie floating by, was conning. And tonight was a working night.
Producing a box of cigarettes from his pocket, he slipped one out and skilfully swapped it for a lighter, setting a flame to the end of the fag as he gripped it in his teeth. For a few minutes, he played it casual, sauntering nearer to observe the others around him, alternating in turn with eyeing the flock of theatre-goers and other passersby. He’d heard the latest stage production was a great success; perhaps next weekend he would buy himself a ticket.
Some of the men had struck up light conversations with one another, perhaps waiting for their friends and family to meet them for their evening plans. Others, like the dark-haired fellow dressed in shadows, enjoyed a wordless smoke. Given a decent opportunity to strike up a conversation, the Parisian exhaled daintily before glancing sideward at the man of interest whom he stood near to. “Sometimes, one must withdraw from the rhythm of society, and listen to his own heartbeat instead,” murmured JT cryptically, drawing on his cigarette again, but with a catty smirk gracing the corners of his lips as he quietly awaited a comment from the other.