Every Thursday afternoon Florian joins Solomon Sugar for tea. It's a longstanding appointment of nearly a year now, with only a few misses due to Solomon's work or Florian's unfortunate bout with the flu. The day and time remains the same, but the location varies according to whimsy, with Solomon partial to rundown pubs and Florian favoring tiny cafes. It's Solomon's turn today and they're seated at a back booth in The Golden Goose drinking dark ale and making up outrageous stories about the other patrons.
"It's true," Florian insisted in an undertone, having just decided that the man in the third seat from the door was an aristocrat out slumming. "Look at his left hand."
There was no ring, but there was a bit of lighter skin where a ring had been. Solomon turned back to Florian and raised his glass slightly in salute.
"I'm impressed."
"Don't be. I learned that trick from you - always look at a person's hands."
"They never lie." The two men completed the quote in unison, but not too loudly; this wasn't the kind of place for drawing undue attention. Florian had his hair covered with an old wool cap and he was wearing an old outfit he'd gotten from Ray's gardener.
Florian took a cautious drink of his ale and grimaced, but only a little, as he studied his hands. They had a few small callouses now, hard patches of skin that he'd earned with sweat and sometimes blood. His mother would have been appalled, but they made him a little bit proud. He had earned them.
"You did well today." Solomon picked up the change in Florian's mood and responded to it. They read each other well for a pair with so many secrets.
"I'm still off target and my grip was weak. I need to work harder."
"You're still recovering from the flu. I'm surprised Ray let you out today."
"He was glad to see me go," Florian confided with a grin that had more than a hint of mischief. "I've been housebound for almost two weeks. If we spent one more day together he would have had Jameson put my bed out in the middle of the street. Or the backyard at least." Solomon shook his head and laughed. It wouldn't matter how long the two were together, Ray and Florian would never have an easy relationship - they were both far too stubborn, especially now that Florian was gaining more self-confidence in his ability to defend himself.
"I think you should practice with the larger pistol next week. Your accuracy has improved a lot, but now you need to increase your strength in order to use for using heavier weapons.
Florian considered, then agreed. There was a glint in his eye that told Solomon no matter how calm the blond was on the outside, there was a lot more happening behind the facade. Florian hid a surprising amount of anger behind his aristocratic manners.
"It's time to tell Ray." Solomon said it carefully, keeping his tone serious but not demanding.
"Not yet." Florian brushed the idea away without a moment of hesitation.
That was another thing to which Solomon was having trouble adjusting. The Florian he was used to was much more deferential, always stepping back to let Ray and Solomon make decisions - only coming forward when they couldn't reach an agreement or when he felt strongly about whatever they were deciding. This new Florian was less impulsive, more decisive. Solomon would never admit it, but sometimes he missed the naive young aristocrat.
Still, he did like seeing Florian standing up for himself more, and of course he agreed that the blond should be able to defend himself. That's what started the weekly appointment in the first place. Florian wanted to learn how to use a gun to defend himself and Solomon hadn't been able to deny the request.
He'd agreed to keep that part of the meetings secret from Ray at first, knowing the man would never agree to let Florian do this. So he'd kept his silence. Unfortunately, now he was stuck between helping Florian and betraying his Black Cat.
He considered prolonging the discussion; Florian could still be swayed by a well-reasoned argument, but he was cut off by Florian's sudden intake of breath. The blond nearly choked on his ale and Solomon was suddenly very busy thumping him on the back and trying to help. "Water." A gruff voice declared as a somewhat suspect glass of cloudy liquid was thumped down on the table. Solomon barely looked at the person, concentrating instead on Florian, who was recovering rapidly but still looked grateful for the water.
"No wonder he's choking, you can practically chew this stuff." Florian's glass of ale had been lifted from the table but now it was returned. Solomon didn't even have to look up to see who had delivered the water.
"I should have known." Solomon shook his head, amused and a little annoyed at himself for thinking he or Florian could have any secrets from Ray.
Without waiting for an invitation, Ray snagged a chair from a nearby table and swung it into place. He dropped into it without a bit of grace and took another swig of Florian's drink.
"That was mine." Florian said, sounding more amused than annoyed. "But since you like it so much." He raised his hand and signaled the bartender before calling out. "Two more ales and a cup of tea."
The bartender nodded and set to work while Florian gave a smile to the new arrival.
"New wardrobe?" Ray asked, his eyebrows raised at the sight of Florian's clothing.
"Latest fashion." Florian assured him before moving on to a more serious subject. "How did you find us?"
Ray glanced at Solomon before giving Florian a look.
"Forget I asked." Florian dismissed the question lightly. "I suppose you know about the lessons then." He'd told Ray from the beginning that he was meeting Solomon for afternoon tea each week, but he'd been vague about the details, and, when the lessons started, he simply didn't mention them.
"If I had any objections, I would have stopped them as soon as they started." Ray looked up as the bartender arrived, set down their drinks and shuffled away to wipe off a recently abandoned table.
"Then you understand." It wasn't a question so Ray didn't treat it as one. Florian didn't need to be coddled and reassured.
"You've been at it for a while." Ray pinned Solomon with a look. "How much longer do you plan to keep up these lessons?"
Solomon was just as interested in the answer as Ray and they both looked at Florian who was calmly sipping his tea.
"Until I know that I can hit any target I need to, exactly the way it needs to be hit." Florian set the teacup down with a clunk and added in a tone so cold it even surprised his lover. "When I know I can defend myself and the people I love."
Solomon opened his mouth to protest, to offer some kind of platitude, but he closed it again and remained silent when Ray simply nodded.
"Take as long as you need." The tiniest flicker of something crossed his face and Solomon regarded the two men curiously. He knew Florian's experiences in Morocco were at the root of his sudden desire to learn. Especially in light of Florian's confession that his uncle had tried to teach him how to shoot when Florian was a teenager. Florian had waved the matter off, saying that he'd been a poor student, but other comments made Solomon wonder how interested Maurice had been in teaching his young nephew.
"I hope you're getting more than some cheap ale for your time." Ray commented as he drained his second ale and made a face at the bitterness. He was covering well, but Solomon knew that he didn't like the idea of Florian handling firearms. Not after the blond had gone catatonic after shooting Azura. Solomon admired his Black Cat for setting his own feelings aside on this matter, knowing how protective Ray was of his lover.
"I'm teaching him as a favor." Solomon looked to Florian. "I don't charge my friends." It was an ongoing argument between them that Solomon had been winning. He had a feeling that was about to change.
"Then you're a damned fool." Ray muttered, signaling for another round of drinks. "You'll take twenty a lesson and I won't hear any argument. You can even continue your rounds of all the questionable pubs in Paris if you must. You can accompany Florian home afterwards for your payment and the rare delight of Laila's cooking."
Florian made a strangling noise and quickly tried to cover it by taking a sip of tea, even though he was at the bottom of the cup where it was more leaves than liquid.
"That's quite an honor." Solomon tried not to smile too broadly at the thought of an afternoon spent with Florian followed by an evening that included dinner with his Black Cat. He'd heard about Laila's cooking, of course, but he also knew that Ray had hired a cook to help Laila with meal preparation. Besides, Solomon had an iron stomach √ he'd been eating his own cooking for years.
"Might as well start today." Ray waved off the bartender who was approaching with their drinks. He tossed some money down on the table and stood, waiting for the others to join him. He blinked when Florian picked up the money and handed it back to him, replacing it with his own. Looking at Solomon, then back at Florian he grinned, then laughed out loud.
"Twenty a week," he said when they were outside and headed towards Ray's car. "Your debt's really adding up."
"I'll work hard to pay it off." Florian's voice was serious but the glint in his eyes promised mischief. Solomon settled into the backseat of the car, crossed his arms and prepared to enjoy the show.
:end: