Crimson1: Wow, thanks for pointing that out! I hadn't even realized I'd put amethyst. (I'd meant to put amber. Go figure.) Anyway, it's actually worked out well! Hah.
chronic-fever: Done and done.
He was growing impatient. He'd never been one to sit around and wait for so long for something so…well, it really wasn't all that important, was it? A chat with a dancer. This was precious time that could have been spent taking a stranger into the bathroom and letting out his frustrations. Twice. To four separate people. Instead, he found his eyes dragged back time and time again to the stranger in the cage. It didn't matter how many times he looked, the white haired man was there, dancing away. Schuldig had stamina, but even he couldn't dance for hours on end. Not that voraciously, in any case. He had a sneaky suspicion that Farfarello would be the perfect partner for those dance-a-thons people used to have.
When the club finally had its last call, it was nearing three in the morning. Schuldig stumbled his way outside to the fresh night air and took in a deep breath, allowing the crisp morning air to wake him up a bit. He sighed softly and closed his eyes before moving off to the side to lean against the wall of the club. More people began filing out of the club as it closed, several of them squinting at the lights that lined the streets. They murmured their goodbyes before parting and heading back to their homes, leaving Schuldig blissfully alone. He pulled out his silver cigarette case from his pants pocket and stuck one in his mouth before he began patting around for his lighter. Damnit. I've lost it again, haven't I?
"Need a light?" A cool voice sounded from beside him, and he nearly jumped in shock when a flame appeared in front of his face. Why hadn't he heard anyone approaching? They should learn to think louder. He leaned forward to light the end of the cigarette and took a drag on it before turning his head to thank the person and paused. It was his dancer. Farfarello. He blinked a few times, trying to discern why something looked different about him, aside from the fact that he was now dressed down in a relaxed pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, when it hit him. His uncovered eye was no longer the amethyst he had seen in the club. What gazed at him now was a swimming topaz hue.
He smirked faintly and pulled the cigarette away from his lips, letting out a sultry curl of smoke as he smirked at the white haired man. "Thanks." He murmured this quietly and took another pull, relishing in the taste of tobacco coursing through his system. Mmm, taste that cancer. He let his gaze float over the other, who seemed perfectly content to merely stand there and watch him desecrate his body, before speaking again. "You're one of the club's dancers, right?"
This seemed to snap the sinewy man out of his reverie and he nodded, smirking a bit. "That I am. Center cage." He chuckled quietly at this and casually laid his hands on his hips, jutting one out to the side. Schuldig found himself watching that hip and the way the black shirt rose just slightly to give a slight flash of skin before his eyes snapped back up again at more words. "I saw you watching me in there." It was hard to miss that red hair in a sea of black, especially from his vantage point.
Schuldig, however, had taken a too quick drag on the cigarette in his hand and he began coughing on the smoke. He threw the stick to the ground and stamped it out before turning his azure gaze toward the other man. "You did?" It was hard to keep the amazement out of his voice as he asked that. He didn't get caught at things like that often, so to say it was unnerving at best was being optimistic. He tried to capture any thoughts from the other that he could, but only found himself up against a rock-hard resistance. Either the man he faced had some sort of gift like he did, or someone had enforced a mental wall around him. Any way he looked at it, he was both intrigued and antsy about the situation.
Farfarello nodded, smirking at the obvious look of apprehension that flickered across the red-head's face. He covered up an amused sound with a cough, passing it off as a reaction to the smoke. "I did. It's hard to miss that hair of yours amongst all of the black that massed on the dance floor." His eye flitted over the other, smirk still in place.
Schuldig merely nodded at his response. It made sense. His hair made him stand out wherever he went. It wasn't often you came across something so bright and so…there. "Well, then, if you saw me watching you, I have no problems with asking this. Wasn't your eye another color in there?" It'd been bothering since the man had sidled up to him. He could have sworn…
Farfarello merely nodded, moving to lean on his arm against the wall, facing Schuldig. "Colored contacts. I'm going to have a different color each night. The boss says it makes me even more 'dynamic.'" He actually chuckled a little bit at this and slid his arms over his chest, crossing them.
The other glanced at him at this statement and he raised an eyebrow. "More dynamic? I really don't think you need any more help in that category." Schuldig paused when he noted what he said and resisted the urge to smack his forehead with the heel of his hand. Idiot. Should try to be a little more smooth in the future, dumbass. You sound like a freaking fan girl.
The white haired man merely laughed at this, and Schuldig found that he was rather liking the sound of his laughter. Farfarello nodded a bit, still snickering quietly. "No, you're right. I tried to tell him that, but he wasn't having any of it. So, in the contact went. I think tomorrow night's going to be orange." He snorted a bit before leaning his head back to glance up at the dark morning sky. Schuldig watched the graceful arch of his neck and licked his lips before the face came back down again. "I'm Farfarello, by the way."
"Schuldig." He replied, realizing that he'd been asking questions before even introducing himself. That was so very unlike him, but he had been far too distracted by that eye to care about it. Farfarello let out a great gaping yawn, and it struck him, then, that the dancer was probably rather exhausted from his night. He pursed his lips, loathe to part from his company. "Hey, I know this all night diner not far from here if you'd like to go hit that up."
The other man actually paused a moment, his eye flicking toward the club, as if he were debating something. A flash of worry crossed his face but he shook his head, leaving Schuldig to wonder what that had been all about. "I'd love to."
It didn't take long to get to the all-night diner Schuldig had mentioned, even with walking. It was only a block and a half away from the club, after all. They walked in a companionable silence the entire way, Schuldig trying to get into Farfarello's mind, the dancer simply walking. It was chilly that early in the morning, and Schuldig desperately wished he had his jacket with him. Well, it wasn't like he had been planning on not going straight home (whether it was his or not was up for debate).
When they got there, they made their way over to a booth and sat opposite each other, Farfarello actually looking glad for the chance to sit down. They each ordered a mug of coffee, Schuldig with some cream, Farfarello ordering it straight black. When their drinks came, they sat back and sipped at the hot liquid quietly, each eyeing the other. Probably trying to figure out what to talk about. Normally, holding a solid conversation wasn't difficult for Schuldig, when he could know what was on the person's mind! That was really starting to slowly piss him off. He wasn't complaining that it was happening; he just wished he knew what was so special about this man across from him.
Finally, as the silence stretched between them, he couldn't stand it anymore. Never let it be said Schuldig didn't like the sound of his own voice, anyway. "So, what made you decide to be a club dancer?" He finally settled on asking, raising his coffee mug to his lips once more.
Farfarello played with his own for a moment before taking a drink, pondering this. "Well, there were a couple factors that went into the decision. I do like to dance and, right now?" He raised the glass, another swallow passing his lips. "That's the only reason you need." He paused for a moment, allowing a corner of his mouth to raise into a smirk. "Maybe you can find out more on our date tonight."
Schuldig was about ready to give up on getting any more answers when that last statement reached his ears. He nearly choked on the coffee he'd been taking a drink of and lowered the mug to the table once more, lest he spill it. Had he heard him right? Had he just said something about a date? "…Come again? Did you just say something about a date?" He paused, suddenly on the defensive. "What makes you think I'm into guys?" He wasn't that noticeable, was he?
The white haired man merely laughed and pushed his empty coffee mug forward. "Would you honestly have asked me to a cup of coffee if you weren't?" When he didn't receive an answer, he took that as silent agreement to the question, and continued on. "And, yes. I said a date. I have every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday off from work. Boss wants me on Friday and Saturday, the busy nights, and the rest of the week's pretty slow. So, a date. What, are you declining the offer?" He arched an eyebrow at him incredulously, and nearly laughed again when Schuldig shook his head.
"Nuh uh. Just took me as a bit of a shock, is all." He looked around for a pencil, and finding a short, stubby one near a pad of paper on their table, he brought it over and began scribbling things down. "Here. My phone number, cell number, and address. If you can't catch me at home, I'll certainly answer my cell. Thing's never off." He tore off the sheet of paper and handed it over, even as Farfarello took the pad and began writing down his own information and handing it over, as well.
He stood slowly and stretched, and Schuldig couldn't help but watch as a small patch of white skin peaked from under the shirt. Hell, no wonder the man had been able to pin him for what he was. Kind of hard to miss when he kept openingly ogle the man like that. His eyes flickered up as Farfarello leaned down against the table, putting their faces dangerously close together. He could feel the other's breath cascade across his skin. "I'll call you sometime after one." Winking, he stood straight, turned, and sauntered out of the diner, leaving Schuldig to watch that sensuous sway of hips, almost hypnotically.
He let out a low, appreciative whistle before finishing off his coffee, smirking faintly against the mug against his lips. Now that was a fine piece of ass that sashayed out the door. And Schuldig was certainly man enough to admit that.