soothing the injured pride
Location: Christmas Party, Potter Estate Time: 20th December, past midnight Status: Closed, for @a-glasshalfempty
Edgar carefully snuck up behind Fabian, having followed him silently for a few steps before one hand reached out for his waist, the other driving from his shoulder down his arm, holding it up until palm met palm. Held him like this for the duration of a breath.
It had looked as though Fabian was looking for someone so Edgar had debated whether to go to him or find Amelia again. He’d told her he’d be back in a moment, and this time he couldn’t break that promise by extending this ‘moment’ again. But perhaps a brief ambush? As logical as Edgar appeared to be, in the end most of his decisions were always by his heart.
“Did you know that the tango used to be a form of ballet exclusively between two men?” he asked, quietly as the exhausted atmosphere around them didn’t require more than that. If the gem-heavy rings on his finger hadn’t given away who he was yet, this question did.
Edgar didn’t like parties. Never attended them for any other reason than a sense of obligation. Tonight had been no exception. He’d come for Amelia, for her to meet the people she ... worked with, and any excuse to hide in a corner to read a book had been a welcome one. That he’d disappear for many hours was, however, indeed an accident. When he’d returned to the hall, most people were gone, the music had ebbed away into the sound of a tranquil rivulet, quiet enough for conversations to be heard from the other side of the room now, and Amelia was, after accepting his apologies, ready to go home. So was he. And yet.
Head tilted, he peeked over Fabian’s shoulder to glance at this face, to look at his profile, nose almost brushing against cheek. “Unfortunately I don’t dance the tango, nor is this the appropriate music for it,” its dusty western sound was surprisingly fitting for a rumba though, “but I do vaguely remember I owe you a dance.”
