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peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
TDM 05
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.
As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.
Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】
ARRIVAL
DIVINE AWAKENING
All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.
New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.
GILDED CAGE
AN ENDLESS FEAST
Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.
Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.
PHOENIX CASINO
ALEA IACTA EST
The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.
Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.
BEAK
ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS
Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.
A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.
TALON
SHOW OF STRENGTH
Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.
The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.
INDULGENCE
DESIRES FROM THE VOID
Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.
And they’re coming out.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
no subject
The phantom sensation of Alan's fingertips against his face remains, a memory that only helps to stir his own arousal. An insatiable feeling that he meets with a shift of his hand. He presses a caress of his thumb against the slit of cockhead.
There is no hesitation. No lasting question of who may stumble upon them or what would happen in retaliation - if only because Baptiste is haughty enough to believe he could outrun any such consequence. He'd lived on the outside of 'acceptable' society for so long that even before finding himself here - there had been little shame in his displays.
Baptiste's tongue drags upward - a glimpse of pure hedonism as his eyes meet Alan's once more.
He would dare to call it a beautiful sight. Dark eyes transfixed on him and just what he could do. The bounce of that curl as it falls, the shifting of muted breath beneath that palm... A hum leaves Baptiste's throat as he presses a kiss to the tip of the man's prick.
He buys himself a moment with this indulgence before he has to tear his eyes away from the lustful visage. His mouth opens before he begins to take the man's arousal in.]
no subject
Alan moans again, strangled. His cock twitches under Baptiste's kiss. Keeping his hand over his mouth can't last, and as Baptiste takes him in, Alan finally drops his hand back down to Baptiste's hair, bracing himself with the other hand behind him on the daybed.
For now, he doesn't do anything like hold Baptiste in place, or direct his mouth. His fingers comb frenetically through Baptiste's hair, though, making it stick up every which way. ]
Fuck. [ Still straining for quiet. ] Oh, Christ.
no subject
His balancing grip that is entangled in cloth fineries tightens as his head begins to bob. The steady undulation uninterrupted by wandering fingers. As his hair is tousled by the other man's touch, the sensation of fingers caressing at his scalp is a welcome treat.
Alan struggles to maintain a sense of secrecy and the strained threads in his voice are silently relished. Behind closed eyes, Baptiste can still see the starved gaze the man had worn only moments ago-
His other hand finds purchase on the man's inner thigh. Thumb brushing sensitive skin near his sac - a promise of carnal reverence.]
no subject
Yes, fuck, please.
[ What's he supposed to call him? Not "boy," and certainly not any of the really sharpened barbs he'd throw around with Jack. You can't just pull out gutter-filth on a man you don't know. Not while he's got your prick in his mouth and his hand at your short and curlies. ]
You bloody devil.
[ Yes -- yes, that feels all right, even if it comes out shaky. He feels Baptiste's tongue slide up under the head of his cock, where his foreskin is mostly drawn back, and his fingers spasm in Baptiste's hair. ]
no subject
Though he catches a glimpse of the man no longer hidden behind the palm of his hand. Handsome face and dark gaze ensnared by the heat of his own mouth. Baptiste can't help but hum as he bobs downward once more.
A miserable godling and a bloody devil. He is quite fond of those potential roles. A performance that Baptiste wouldn't dream of turning down. To invite someone down to 'hell' with him, only to charm them in such a way that they wouldn't dream of clawing their way back up?
Perhaps it is an act he knows all too well.
Each movement of his head has him taking just a little more of the other's prick into his mouth. The hand at the man's inner thigh grows tired of simply teasing tender flesh with his thumb alone. Instead, he shifts to palm at the other's sac. A coaxing squeeze as cock slides down Baptiste's throat.]
no subject
But back to now, where the infernal is seducing the divine.
Alan bites back a moan. One of his legs jerks. He doesn't think he can last much longer, not if Baptiste keeps him down his throat like that, fuck. His balls are drawn up tight under Baptiste's palm. He'd better say something. ]
Do you want--
[ Fuck. He shouldn't have said anything. All his attempts at keeping his pleasure behind his teeth are wrecked when he starts trying to form words; they come out just a little too loud and desperate. ]
--in your mouth? [ he finishes, before slapping his hand over his lips again and tightening his hand in Baptiste's hair. Invoking the idea of coming in Baptiste's mouth, and hearing his own hoarse need in his voice, has him that much closer to the edge. ]
no subject
To find that Alan's keen observations and gorgeous prose also just so happened to be delivered through smut?
Alan would've ensnared the partnership of the man before him. A passionate friend with a benefit or two, even!
A potential friend who just so happens to have said passionate mouth wrapped around the author's cock. The twitch of muscle is a precursor to the inevitable completion of this thorough seduction.
Where the stifled moan fills Baptiste's wanting body with a sense of triumph - it is the less-than-perfect delivery of Alan's question that nearly robs the blonde of his sense. The fantasy of becoming a tangle of limbs and weight in the welcoming arms of that extravagant chaise or the promised entanglement of heat and sweat...
A short-lived fantasy with the pull of his hair as the other's grip grew tighter. It brings him back to the now.
Baptiste slowly pulls his mouth upward, a purposeful press of his tongue tracing his path. The tip of his tongue tugs at pulled foreskin before his warm mouth separates. Immediately, his mouth yearns for the cock it had pressed its venerations into. His breath is thick as he pants against the head. An action initially meant to be a long tease for the man below him only taunts them both. A thread of spit laces lip to tip.
The taut pull of this connection pulls Baptiste back forward.]
Fully- [A one-word response, hoarse and low. Too impatient for a more coy exchange, his lips part as he takes the other in. An intentional push to engulf the other entirely, back into his throat. His palm massages the other man's balls with a silken touch as a moan rumbles in his own throat.]
no subject
It's a miracle he doesn't come right there. Or, no, it's not a miracle, because Baptiste doesn't give him time, thank God, and Alan's cock is back in that tight embrace, thank God, and Jesus, the man's hands, that moan, the impatience of him like he can't get enough of Alan's body, oh God, and Alan comes like a shot, his palm barely muffling his groan.
A-fucking-men.
As the throbs of pleasure subside, Alan un-gags himself. The sound of his own rough breathing fills the little pavilion, and he drops both hands to Baptiste's head again, stroking his hair and the back of his neck. Some men get oversensitive after orgasm, but he's always liked the feeling of touching and being touched right after. For a few seconds he gets to be soft as sealing wax, content to be imprinted. ]
no subject
Replaced instead by a familiar, welcome warmth and fawning hands.
Baptiste's head swims with the transition, and yet a smile plays at his features as he straightens. His own half-hardened desire is temporarily lost in a wave of touch. The hand of his that had balled up in finery reaches to cup at Alan's cheek. Yet he does not move to kiss the man.
Instead he stares at the man fondly, indulging in the strokes to his hair. A sigh slips through his curved lips.]
I could get used to someone like you bailing me out of trouble. [He breaks his panted silence with something that makes himself. Airy and certainly relieved. He offers the other man a wink.]
[One hand to Alan's face - fingers searching to touch at curls he's been eyeing all night. The other gives an appreciative brush over the side of the man's hip.]
no subject
What's "someone like you" supposed to mean?
[ He feels better than he has all day. A trifle loose in the joints from a good suck, certainly, but more satisfied than just that. Less thirsty, and less thirsty still when Baptiste caresses him. ]
no subject
Fun.
[The word exits his mouth. His lashes flutter as he glances upwards and nods, mulling it over.] I mean, you're a mite difficult, but spirited! A fellow deviant, and one that's easy on the eyes...
[An intentional pause.]
Someone I'd enjoy talking with beyond the whole lord-servant roleplay, even. [Baptiste says this, but something in his posture and a coy glance projects a 'Well. Unless...']
[His hand now rests at the other's hip bone, thumb teasing idly circles into it. Despite being aware of how he should pull away, Baptiste selfishly draws the moment out. It's warm. Comfortable.
And no one would dare pull him from an 'esteemed guest' such as this, which is also a boon in itself.]
no subject
"A mite difficult, but spirited." I'll have to remember that one.
[ Like many artists, he never quite knows how to take a compliment. "Easy on the eyes" is sufficiently casual to let him keep the momentum up, at least, and tease in return. ]
You made it look easy on the rest of you, too. [ Alan drops a hand to run the backs of his fingers down Baptiste's throat illustratively. ] You're good at that. No wonder you get in trouble. [ His voice drops lower -- not a rumble, just rough, laced with amusement. ] If this is what you do to get out of it, you must get in trouble a lot.
no subject
But he lets the moment pass in lieu of the brush of fingers against his neck. It serves as a teasing reminder of his own delayed release. Slipping from the suit's grasp had been euphoric in itself, but his own half-hard cock throbs as if to remind him of it's existence.
As if he could forget it when Alan's tone grows low and... well Baptiste would dare say a little impish in that amusement. His head lulls, stretching his throat to invite that surveying touch to continue. The continued touch keeps him patient, even soothed as he basks in the warm between them.]
How observant. [Baptiste coos, a steadily mischievous smile begins to crack across his features.] It's not exactly a deterrent to put me on the straight and narrow. Why? Thinking of inviting some more trouble into your life?
no subject
Not as a rule. Seems to keep finding me nowadays, though.
[ Witness this whole kidnapping as the latest in a six-month string of things he never would've asked for, starting with Bella's pregnancy. It's hard to say, in light of his new friends, new positions, new lover back home, that he regrets all those things -- but it's hard to say, in light of the threats, the enchantments, and the murders, that it was exactly all worth it. Maybe it never really balances out. Maybe it'll always be an uphill climb on a mountain of bad, clinging to the good he finds on the way.
And maybe that's why he'd rather focus on that smile, and the way Baptiste basks. Alan glances down towards Baptiste's lap. ]
Did that get you hard?
no subject
Baptiste seems to remember he ate his dinner at the foot of the stairs as a stubborn oath to meet ever-present concept of trouble with trouble of his own.
Somethings never change. He idly wonders what route the man above him will pick, hoping it to be something foolishly stubborn.
While Baptiste had already resolved not to pry into what troubles lay at the man's feet - he prefers to be trusted with such information rather than prying it out of someone - what the other says quickly shifts the gears in Baptiste's head. Returns it to the very thing he'd tried to set aside.
Baptiste scoffs. His brows raise incredulously. His mouth opens and for a moment the man is actually dumb-founded. Glances down at the traitorous curve of his stupid little toga before he looks back up to Alan.]
Sucking you off got me hard! [A beat. His mouth presses into a thin line. Then he cracks a smile again. A roll of his eyes before he's shaking his head.] Well, and continuing to flirt with you.
[The weight of his head falls a bit heavier into Alan's hands now. A purposeful dabble in dramatics as he waits.]
no subject
'Course it did.
[ He swipes a thumb over Baptiste's lower lip, an echo of earlier. ]
I'd like to watch you bring yourself off. I reckon you've got enough oil there, haven't you?
[ Alan is a writer, not an actor; he hasn't the talent for mimicry that Violet Debenham does. Nevertheless, he injects this line with a haughty amusement worthy of an actual aristocrat. The implication is clear: Baptiste is here for his amusement, and he's not about to get his hands dirty when Baptiste is perfectly capable of doing it for him. ]
no subject
His unspoken 'well, unless' in regards to a bit of roleplay is answered far sooner than he expected.
Despite not being an actor, Alan's tone carries the perfect delivery. One that is easily written off as an endearing play at nobility rather than anything else. It brings none of the bubbling contempt the real thing would've stoked...
And so who was Baptiste to deny this man a chance to play? That damn smile only helped to seal the deal.]
That's right, sir. [His tone dips low once more. Lashes fall heavy over his eyes in a faux-display of subservience.
So he sets himself to the scene. A servant savoring the attentions of this nobleman after bringing him to completion. The glimpse of desire is a tantalizing promise to chase. To indulge a nobleman brought with it the chance of winning favor so that he might-
Baptiste could almost laugh. Even in play, he sucked at truly just playing 'servant.'
Instead he sighs as one hand blindly gropes for the open lid of the oil vessel. The other moves to loosen the white linen of his toga. The shifting of cloth over his own cock is a pleasure that he punctuates for this man's viewing pleasure by swallowing hard. White folds are a curtain pulled back. An oil-doused hand shifts the weight of his half-hardened prick. Slick fingers wrap around the shaft and begin to stroke with a steady hand.
A shuddered breath follows the introduction of a slick warmth, before his jaw sets to bite back his first moan.]
no subject
He huffs laughter, dropping one hand beside him to lean on, trailing the fingers of the other over Baptiste's cheek. ]
"Sir," even. Good.
[ God, the sight is entrancing. Maybe this man's an actor? He's got a showman's touch that reminds Alan a little of Violet. He swallows himself, a moment after Baptiste does. ]
Good.
[ Soft and hoarse. His gaze flicks over the man at his feet, desperate to take in all the details for later. He sees a muscle clench in Baptiste's jaw; he sees oil fall from Baptiste's fingers to the floor in a fat drop. He sees Baptiste's cock and imagines it in his own hands, in his mouth, and the idea is enough to send another warm flush through him -- though not enough to actually revive him. ]
no subject
Or perhaps Baptiste will recall that huff of laughter and that dark, amused gaze instead. The trailing touch to his face serves to press the moment into his memory as his own breath hitches.
He doesn't remember his lines. The next clever quip in this act is lost between his hand, the scent of sweat and sweetened oil, and a hoarsely offered praise. Baptiste's lips part with the next moan. A haze dulls the intensity of Baptiste's gaze as it drops, unfocused. He catches Alan's fingers in his periphery, along with the fine, draped fabric at the man's torso that still lays displaced. A flash of skin that has him wishing his face was buried in the crook of the man's neck instead of nestling desperately against his palm. A dip at the other's thighs that reminds him of how the other's cock felt under his lips just minutes ago.
All the while, each stroke of his cock continues to stoke the promise of these feverish fantasies. Until the building warmth in his gut threatens to spill over, quickly back in step with where he had been. His own voice rises until his head sharply turns - as if to use the palm of Alan's hand to muffle his next groan.]
Ah- I- God-- [It accomplishes the trapping of his heated breath more than dampening any sound of faux-worship as Baptiste comes, a splatter to the ground that intermingles with the pooling of oil. He pants against the other's hand, lips moving in a mockery of a kiss as he attempts to collect himself.]
no subject
On impulse, while Baptiste catches his breath, Alan leans down and presses a kiss to his hairline. A benediction, of sorts. Straightening, he looks around for something he can offer to help clean up, and settles for grabbing a napkin off the table with the wine. It's no monogrammed handkerchief, but it'll do. ]
Very nice. [ He holds the cloth out, smiling. ] Thank you for that.
no subject
Instead, its met with a warm smile and the acceptance of a part well-played.
While the offered linen isn't a monogrammed handkerchief in the slightest, it stirs an amused twinkle in Baptiste's eyes. A glimmer that begins to cut through a bleary gaze. His head is leaden as he slowly pulls it away from the hand that had been a life line. Moments before. His body basks in its languid afterglow, and Baptiste finds there are no strings attached. No simmering powerplays beneath the surface. No gnawing influence. Not even a spare, roguish urge to press his luck.
It's a stillness that brings out a bewildered laugh. Baptiste is not a man to know 'still' and yet he sits before this relative stranger in just that.
He reaches out to take the offered napkin. His fingers brush the other's in the gesture before he sets to wiping up.]
I should be thanking you, sir. [The title itself is nearly sung in its newly won irreverence.] I do love to put on a show.
[He may as well have said, "I do love a chance to show-off." Regardless, the point stands. All while a satisfied smile plays at his features.]
no subject
[ He starts to rearrange himself, as well, smoothing down his robe and pushing a hand through his own hair. (This doesn't help his curls at all.) ]
... I feel better, [ he says after a moment, surprised. He hadn't even realized he'd felt bad, before. But like the sun finally going down on a hot day, the cessation of discomfort brings the discomfort into focus.
A breath later, he realizes that that's a pretty silly thing to say to a man on his knees in front of you, and he looks sheepish. There's always this moment, isn't there, when everyone's cleaning up and there's nothing left to be done. What should he say? It's been a long time since he had an anonymous encounter like this -- and this is nothing like a fuck in a darkened park corner or cramped back room. He knew the script for that. No names exchanged, no niceties, just a carefully timed exit to make sure no one saw the two of you together and caught on to the crime you'd just committed. ]
Don't call me sir, for God's sake. I'll never know who you're talking to.
no subject
Baptiste shifts to stand, his legs leaden from prolonged kneeling. He smooths out the draped folds of white cloth before his delighted gaze falls upon the other man. Standing now, he'd nearly forgotten the height he'd had on this fellow. It's a realization as charming as the stray curls that refuse direction from Alan's guidance.]
So then what should I call you? As cute as that would be, I'd hate to slip your notice.
[Darkened park corners or cramped back rooms are not unheard of for Baptiste. He'd met his fair share of nameless lovers on his travels, after all - sewing his wild oats with the abandon of a man privileged to know he could talk his way out of the law. Through the promise of familial money or trade - he would happily evoke the same family name he often spat.
Regardless.
If the resort keeps this one, Baptiste operates under a clear assumption that they're bound to cross paths again.]
no subject
He has to take a moment to decide what to say, in any case. Names have always been potential vulnerabilities. There's the name his mother gave him, too Italian for Londoners to respect. There's the name his articles are published under, unsafe to link to his sexual activities. There's "the Roman" -- but it feels discourteous to fob this fellow off with something so obviously fake.
(And it would be too close to "Cesare," anyway.)
The truth will probably out, he decides. There will be other lies to tell if he's stuck here, he's sure, and it's easier to keep track of them if he keeps the number low. ]
Ross. Alan Ross. [ He pauses, and then offers a handshake, with a rueful smile. ] And who am I going to be getting out of trouble next time?
no subject
But the name that follows doesn't sound too much like a fake name to him, so he reaches to grasp the other's hand. A bright warmth comes naturally to his features with the gesture - his other hand reaching to clap at the man's shoulder.
For Baptiste, it's always just a step closer in physicality. A natural state. His hand brushes over the other's shoulder while the other returns a firm shake.]
Baptiste LaFontaine, my dear. [The drawl on his vowels is more noticeable on his name than any of his English. As if the name itself were some sort of song carried on by the traces of Québécois. The hand to Alan's shoulder slides away just as he releases the man's hand.]
I'm sure it is inevitable, so perhaps I should start making up for it now by showing you to the baths? It might just get you out of 'god duty' for a little bit.
(no subject)