Gilbert couldn't exactly remember what he had said, but it had been a lot and quite unstructured, out of context, passionate and random. That was just how he was. His brother always scolded him that he was thinking too much about unnecessary things. This was probably an occasion where he should have put more thought into his words. Of course he didn't. And of course he was moments before realizing that circumstance with a little help from the man from the bar that could as well be classified as 'beautiful'. That man didn't even speak a word to him. He just stood up from his seat, in a perfectly calm and gracious manner, stood in front of Gilbert, reached out his hand and slapped him one time on the cheek. The brunet was already sitting again, when Gilbert realized that this had, indeed, really happened. Even though it couldn't have. This man had small hands, even though they were delicate and elegant, but nonetheless tiny ones for a man's. But this dude had whipped him like a high-class 500-euro-an-hour dominatrix, who crunched your throat with her polished latex plateau-boot and smiled down at you in an angelic manner at the same time. This man had devious hands. What the fuck had happened? Gilbert's cheek burned fiery and he heard a few guys giggle due to his misery and failure. He turned around slowly and returned to his friends who were already awaiting him.

"Wow, that are for sure nice fingerprints on your cheek, mon ami. Maybe you should ask him, if he's able to tattoo his number in there as well. I should get you a cool pack."

"Thank you, but I don't need one." Gilbert sat down on his bar stool like someone had told him just now, he was made out of porcelain.

"Are you sure?" Antonio poked his flaming cheek, "That sure looks like it's hurting a lot."

"I don't need one!" Gilbert snapped. His hands thundered down on the surface of the bar. Antonio retreated his finger slowly and kept quiet, while Francis just kept drying off a freshly-washed wine glass and hissed through his teeth: "Someone's certainly not in a good mood..."

The other customers at the bar looked a little shocked at Gilbert's fuming form who tried to calm himself just a little for the sake of his own dignity. But there, when he glanced over the rows of faces who were looking at him like gossiping grannies immediately running off to their coiffeur to tell them the newest news, he caught an eye on some particular well shaped features: The man looked at him - a cheetah searching out one prey out of the flock to eat tonight. His thin and nicely-curved lips were smiling just a tiny bit at the corners, but his almost violet eyes had a mischievous amused glint in them. A cat. Just like a cat. A cat wanting to play. He took a sip of his cocktail through one of that odd bulgy black drinking straws, too big for his lips and the cocktail too bright for his preppy-self. And he was still looking at him. He was drinking, sucking, even though Gilbert of course didn't notice what an indecent gesture that was, and still looking at him. Was he flirting? No, as if, he wasn't flirting and IF he was flirting, Gilbert sure wasn't picking up on that. But he wasn't flirting. His eyes were saying "I won. You fool... So? What are you gonna do now?"

Gilbert snapped again. Twice in five minutes. This guy was absolutely a danger for his blood pressure. His doctor would say "please refrain from drinking, smoking and dealing with pretty little sexy but annoying cats". No, not sexy. No... His doctor would say "eat healthy, sleep well, have an awful lot of good sex - and everything will be fine. Just fine. Just don't deal with that sexy bitch anymore. Just don't. Just-"

Leaving aside that no doctor would actually say that (if he does, you should maybe think about changing your medical support...), Gilbert had already stood up. No, he jumped up. He knocked his chair over and almost his beer, raced over to that whore and knocked him off his feet. No. Not literally, like they fell in love and shit. That was taking place in the romance novels his brother read and hid them so desperately under his bed. Gilbert read a lot too, but he was smart. Smart enough to know that there was a romance possibility percentage of... something around zero for him. And he knew his place. He had no degree, had not studied any shit, he was a mechanic surrounded by oil and rust and metal. And therefore he knocked that prissy something with his playful smirk, the stick in his ass and the barstool to the ground. If this asshole thought he was an idiot, he could just as well show him how impolite, rude and uneducated he was. This shit would breath his armpits and suffocate under his muscles. Disgusting. But who deserved what? He seated himself quite comfortably on the other one's lap and wanted to slap him. Should all of that people remember him as ill violent tartar. Should they. Gilbert had also quite a low percentage of being accepted anywhere. He was quite intelligent, but he didn't have the status to actually show it off. He really didn't even wanted to have the status, because most people in the upper-class-areas (like this guy under him probably) were fake and he hated that whole... fake. But sometimes, sometimes he had wanted to be like Sherlock Holmes. But that dream had died. Long ago. He prepared to punch, when:

"Brother?"

He looked up. No. What? Nononono... how even?!

Cemented blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, a swaying black trench coat with a carefully tied silk scarf - his brother looked like a duke.

"Uuh..."

Gilbert's mind melted.

1. You're in a gay bar.

2. He's in a gay bar.

3. You're sitting with your legs spread on another guy.

4. Everyone can see that you're about to punch that other guy.

5. Everyone relates that violent man (you) to your brother.

6. E.g. that priss, who is probably a member of the upper class.

Conclusion: You have properly ruined your and your brother's reputation in a few seconds, also your relationship is probably ruined, congratulation's you are an idiot.

"Could you maybe, mhh, get off me?!"

"I could get you off..." Gilbert said with a dead serious face. Nobody laughed. And his other cheek hurt too after that.

I am very sorry for possible mistakes. I would have re-read it better, but I am very tired and exhausted. Went swimming like a maniac today. :)

Thank you for your wonderful comments. They make me so very happy.

Stay happy and healthy. C. x